Striking Thirteen

Striking Thirteen

Chapter Two

Harry awoke in the Hospital Wing, his head feeling as though it had been chewed on by a Manticore. Snape and a very contrite Neville were standing over him.

"What happened?" Harry groaned, clutching his aching head.

"Would you like to field that one, Mr. Longbottom?" Snape asked pointedly.

Neville took a deep breath. "I tried to hit you with a Reductor curse, but because I'm an idiot Gryffindor, I failed to bother learning that on Friday the 13th, some spells do not act properly, and it tried to turn into a Reve de Vie curse, which is what hit you."

"And Mr. Potter is currently awake because?" Snape prodded.

Neville sighed. "Because I'm a mediocre wizard and the curse was too weak."

"And?" Snape had clearly lectured him at great length while Harry had been unconscious.

"And if the curse had worked, there would have been no counter-curse for twenty-four hours, during which time you would have spent lucidly dreaming one possibility of your future based on your desires, and you'd probably have gone mad."

"And?"

"And I'm going straight to the Ministry and have my wand snapped because I'm a danger to myself and the wizarding world." Neville seemed to have finished his instructed speech and began to stutter and blubber. "I'm-- I'm so s-sorry, Harry. I could have ruined your life when all you've ever tried to do is help me and--"

"Neville, Neville, stop it. Just stop it." Harry sat up in bed, though his entire body ached. "Don't be ridiculous. There's no reason you ought to have your wand snapped. Everyone makes mistakes, Neville. I've made mistakes that have killed people, and I'm still here."

"But you've got to stay, you've got to kill You-Know-Who--"

"Voldemort," Harry corrected automatically, at the same moment that Snape said "The Dark Lord." They glared at each other.

"I'm just nobody," Neville continued, tears still streaming down his round cheeks. "I'm no good to anyone," he said, his voice rising, "and I might just as well go and die!"

"Neville!" Harry shouted. "That's enough! I don't know what Professor Snape has been telling you, but unless there's some law on the books that requires you to have your wand snapped, there's no bloody reason to do it!" He turned an icy glare on Snape. "Tell me, Professor, is there any such law?"

"There is no such law, Mr. Potter, but there is a statute that enables the administrator of a school to have a student removed from wizarding society if he is a danger to others, which Mr. Longbottom plainly is."

"The administrator! That's Dumbledore, Snape, not you, no matter what delusions of grandeur you may have!"

"Fifty points from Gryffindor for your insubordination, Mr. Potter," Snape said as though he were remarking on the weather. "As you know, Professor Dumbledore is currently away, and as Deputy Headmaster--" Harry remembered with a pang McGonagall's death that summer-- "the decision-- the irrevocable decision--is mine."

Harry sneered at his Potions professor. "Two thousand points from Slytherin for being a heartless bastard." He waited for more points to be deducted now, but the words did not come.

"Never presume to know my heart, Potter," Snape said in a low, flat tone, not breaking the stare.

They sat silently with their eyes locked for a long moment, each daring the other to move or breathe. Neither did until the all-but-forgotten Neville sneezed.

Snape whipped his head around. "Longbottom, go and say your goodbyes. Groundskeeper Filch will escort you to the Ministry in thirty minutes."

Neville turned and ran from the room with a sob. Harry opened fire. "How dare you, Snape, how bloody dare you? Neville's trying, he's really trying, and he's gotten better, even you must see that! He only made one stupid mistake, and nobody's hurt, so what fucking right have you to have him expelled and incapacitated after you've let Malfoy off with detention for ten times worse?"

Snape leaned down, pinning Harry back against the pillows, his face so close that Harry could smell the cinnamon on his breath and the sandalwood on his skin. "Because, Potter, Longbottom's no use to anyone--"

"Neither is Malfoy!"

"--And Longbottom's father is not out for my blood. And everyone's top priority is to eliminate any threat to you, which, in this case, includes even Longbottom. So if you want to lay blame, you may sleep soundly in the assurance that it rests entirely on your shoulders, my golden and shining saviour."

Snape had billowed out of the room before Harry got the chance to know what hit him. Weak, he slumped back into the pillows, and with utter horror brought his hand to the throbbing hardness between his legs.

~~tbc next week!~~