Intended

[twenty five]

Potions is one of Sirius's worst subjects. It is not that he doesn't get good marks in it; he's one of the top students in the class. It is not that he doesn't appreciate the significance of it; he knows that it's one of the most important branches of magic.

It's because it's one of the few classes he has with the Slytherins. He wouldn't even mind that, except that it's the one class where, try as he might, he can never be the best, because that position belongs to someone else.

Sirius hates potions because it's the one subject in which he is bested by Severus Snape, and to be bested by Snape in anything is not something he is happy about. No matter how perfect Sirius's potion is, Snape's will always be three times better.

That is why Sirius sits at the back of the class, more interested in scribbling notes under the desk and then passing them surreptitiously to James than in the Professor, droning away at the front about the various poisons they will be expected to learn about. He laughs when James passes him a piece of parchment with a caricature of Snape, scribbling away with his nose leaving a trail of grease through the page. Peter glances back at him at the sudden sound and Sirius passes him the cartoon; he grins in amusement as he sees both Peter, and Lupin sitting next to him, trying to stifle their laughter but their shoulders shaking with mirth.

Turning his attention away from the two boys, he lazily watches the rest of the students, his eyes wandering from the Gryffindors over to the side where the Slytherins all sit. Some of them are talking in rushed, excited whispers, but stop when someone notices Sirius staring at them and send scowls his way.

He scowls back. It's become a regular staple in the potions class, and Sirius is aware that he should be ready afterwards for an ambush because a couple of Slytherins are cracking their knuckles in what he assumes is supposed to be a menacing manner. He only raises an eyebrow at them because, to him, they look more like they are trying to knead invisible dough… not even remotely frightening.

Nothing really scares Sirius now. In fact, he finds it rather amusing to let the rivalries boil up… if nothing, it gives him an excuse to let fly with all the hexes he has been itching to use against those who mock him, even if it does land him in detention time and again. Andromeda has given up on trying to make him stop… he had once thought he might even let the Slytherins go, if only because she was a part of that hated House, but after being bound head-to-toe and left inside a suit of armor he treats all of them mercilessly, for Slytherins are to be treated like that.

Andromeda be damned, if she thinks he will stand for anything from them now.

He glances over at the Slytherins again, this time making sure that his wand is in his hand and that they can clearly see it; it could mean nothing, but in a classroom full of twelve-year olds hostile to one another, it is the equivalent of an invitation to battle.

And Sirius would like nothing more than one.

He is barely aware that most of the students around him are now setting up their cauldrons and unpacking various ingredients, and he does the same, more out of habit than anything else. The potion- poison , he amends wryly- for the current lesson is relatively simple; he rushes through the instructions as fast as he can without ruining it, watching out of the corner of his eye as several other students do the same. Even though his full attention is not on brewing, he inwardly give a sigh of relief as he sprinkles the powdered aconite over the surface of the potion and it turns its required shade of green. In front of him, he can see Peter do the same over Lupin's cauldron as the boy hunts for something on the floor- unfortunately, Lupin's potion turns pink and he can see the disappointment and apprehension on both the boys' faces as Peter's does the same.

‘Psst!'

Quietly, Sirius hisses an instruction to Peter, making sure that no one is looking, or listening in; he knows that both Peter and Lupin are abysmally poor at potions and that Professor Oth would only be too happy to fail them, dratted biased Head of Slytherin House that he is.

And Sirius be damned if doesn't intend to stop him. He scribbles a quick instruction to the two, muttering to James to help him and hiding the scrap of parchment when Professor Oth passes by.

‘Gossiping, Black? I expect you to have at least some consideration for others… your noise may have distracted them. Just because you think you have made a good solution does not give you permission to talk. Five points from Gryffindor.'

He can see the look of contempt in the Professor's eyes as they pass over his solution and to Peter's, and wishes that he would just go away. Of course, though, the jeering comments would be mandatory; Sirius supposes that this is part of the job description of a Potions master: to remind his students of what hell looks like with Satan breathing down one's neck.

‘Pettigrew, what color is the Inner Flame poison supposed to take after adding the powdered wolfsbane?'

'G-g-green… sir.'

‘And yours happens to be what color?'

‘P-p-pink.'

Professor Oth tuts and sighs dramatically, then peers over Peter's shoulder to where Lupin is feverishly stirring his cauldron, his eyes watering as he tries to keep it at arms length.

‘Lupin!' he barks, and even Sirius jumps at the harsh tone in the Professor's voice. ‘Pray tell, what do you hope to accomplish by such last minute tactics?'

Lupin only blinks at him in a dazed manner. His cheeks are flushed and he sniffles as if he has a cold, his nose red. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but then shuts it again, instead raising his hand to wipe his nose on his sleeve.

‘Come here.'

A strange feeling blossoms within Sirius; it is a horrible feeling, of dread and knowing that something terrible is about to happen but being unable to stop it. He watches as Lupin reluctantly shuffles away from his seat and around him and James until he is standing next to the teacher; he can see the boy shivering as he inches carefully over the stones of the floor until even his breathing echoes loudly in Sirius's ears.

The Potions master removes a small vial of a strangely pulsating purple liquid from within his robes and waves it in Lupin's face.

‘ This is the antidote. That ,' he says, motioning to Sirius's cauldron, ‘is the poison. You … are going to test if Black here is really as competent a potion maker as he seems to think he is.'

Lupin's eyes grow wide; he looks around wildly, his breathing erratic, and Sirius bites his lip as he glances down at his cauldron. He now wishes that he were worse at the subject, or that Lupin were better; at least it would not be his poison they are testing, or Lupin they are testing it on. He has no idea what the potion does, but somehow, he doesn't want to know… the idea of testing a poison on a student makes him sick to his stomach. He has to fight a sudden urge to shout out as Professor Oth lets a few drops of potion dribble into an empty vial and instead he glances over at Lupin, who is growing even more agitated by the second.

‘Drink this, and we shall see what happens. Then I will administer the antidote… if necessary,' the Professor sneers, holding out the vial to Lupin. He refuses to take it, instead backing away by a step.

‘No, sir… please…' he whimpers. A few Slytherins laugh at his fear, but it is weak laughter, dying away and being replaced by a heavy, tangible silence.

‘Drink it, boy,' he says, and this time he is more forceful as he thrusts the vial at Lupin. Sirius can only watch, trying to fight down the disgust he feels at being reduced to nothing but a spectator as Lupin glances around, the sickly white of his skin betraying his obvious terror at being poisoned.

'No… sir, I can't drink it…'

‘Drink!' Professor Oth roars, and without waiting for Lupin to answer, he strides to him, and gripping the boy's jaw, he pours the little potion in the vial into his mouth. Lupin makes a sputtering noise, almost choking on the solution he is forced to swallow. Sirius angrily balls his hands up into fists; next to him, James lets out a rather nasty swear word as the Professor turns his back and begins to walk up to the front of class.

‘If Black has managed to produce a decent Draught of Inner Flame…'

…Sirius can hear the Professor speaking, but his eyes are fixed on Lupin.

‘… the most obvious indication would be for Lupin to break out in a mild fever…'

… Lupin is sweating profusely; the sweat trickles down his face and into the neck of his robes. He opens his mouth; a raspy, wheezing noise comes out as if he is choking on the very air he is trying to breathe and Sirius's eyes widen.

‘… but nothing serious should happen as this is supposed to be a very mild poison.'

… Lupin collapses on the floor, writhing. His hands claw at the neck of his robes, fingers clutching at his throat; again, the horrible wheezing sound is the only noise that comes out of his mouth. Sirius bolts to his side, knocking over his cauldron, but he couldn't care less about the wasted potion shimmering on the floor. His fingers tremble as he reaches out for the boy who is now jerking about. He has no idea what is happening, but he can tell that Lupin can't breathe, and when Sirius tries to pry his hands away he finds them icy cold, but damp with sweat. He vaguely hears James shouting somewhere above him for the Professor; he is barely aware of the footsteps that surround him and the sounds of things crashing to the floor as people dart forward to look. He is frozen in mute horror as he helplessly watches spasms rack Lupin's thin frame, the agonized look on the boy's face being the only thing in his field of vision.

Professor Oth is a ghastly pale as he hurries down the line of desks. He is muttering to himself as he walks, and his voice is high-pitched in obvious fear. He kneels down opposite Sirius, his hands shaking as he tries to administer the antidote, pouring it into Lupin's open mouth. A sickening, gagging noise can be heard, but Sirius is not sure if it is Lupin, trying to swallow the antidote, or himself, trying to push down the urge to throw up.

He holds his breath, waiting. He can tell that the Professor is nervous from the way he glances at Lupin and then back up at the class, wringing his hands, throwing the vial aside carelessly…

When Lupin takes in a ragged breath both Sirius and the Professor let out their own. The boy looks dazed as he closes his eyes, his expression changing from panic to something unreadable, something that looks even worse than before. He convulses on the floor, then lies unnaturally still… his lips are tinged with blue as he struggles to move them…

Lupin screams in pain, and pandemonium breaks loose. Again, he is struggling for air, his mouth wide open, but this time his movements are so much feebler; his face is contorted as if every slight action is draining him of energy. Lupin's hands are still frozen at his throat; Sirius numbly realizes that it is not because he is unwilling to move them, but it is because he just can't ; Lupin's body is slowly freezing up, his hands already paralyzed. He watches as Professor Oth urgently picks up the slight boy. Lupin's body is still twitching even as he is rushed from the dungeon and by now the whole class is panicking as some students make a mad rush for the door, bookbags, potions and House rivalries completely forgotten.

Next to him, James sinks to the floor. There is a violent sound of retching; a girl vomits, her face streaked with tears and her voice shaking with anger as she questions the testing of a poison on students. Sirius feels as if there is a giant weight pressing down on him; he feels unable to breathe, the scene replaying itself on the floor in front of him.

He glances up, aghast, when he feels a hand on his shoulder

‘Wh-what happened?' Peter stammers nervously. There is something distinctly watery about his eyes, something of fright in his voice.

‘I… I don't know,' James says, his voice fainter than Sirius has ever heard it sound,

‘I messed up the potion,' Sirius mutters. ‘Too much aconite made it stronger.'

James shakes his head, his movements slow, almost lethargic. ‘No, I saw how much you put in… that wasn't it…'

‘Maybe… m-m-maybe he had an… allergic r-r-reaction or something,' Peter offers, not quite meeting Sirius's eyes, but even then, he doesn't really believe what Peter is saying; hell, he can see that Peter doesn't believe it himself.

The rest of the students are trickling out slowly, discussing what happened in low tones; James and Peter are the last to leave, slowly agonizing over their books and cauldrons and wondering what to do with Lupin's things. Sirius just sits there, watching them, but not really seeing anything, not really hearing their questions. He dismisses them with a wave of his hand when they ask if he's coming and once they're gone, he sighs and rests his head against the cold stone wall.

Even when he closes his eyes, he cannot block out what he has just seen. Long after everyone has gone, Sirius sits in the dungeon, unable to forget the horrible rasp of Lupin trying to breathe.

Potions is one of Sirius's worst subjects, because he can't forget how something he brewed almost killed one of his friends, even if he never intended it to.

*