Love's Labours

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Chapter Five~ Class as Usual?

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After his rather conspicuous entrance, Harry tried to keep a low profile for the rest of class. But, with Snape keeping a snake-like eye on him, it was damn near impossible to do so. It seemed that Snape noticed every minute thing Harry did.

On his last pass by the tables, Snape spent an extra minute hovering over Harry's shoulder. Harry could feel the professor breathing down his neck, daring him to make a mistake. Harry took a deep breath to steady his breathing and continued grinding up his roots, despite his second conscious.

In the end, Snape couldn't find one thing to criticize Harry about, so he moved on, muttering under his breath. Harry breathed a sigh of relief as his shoulders relaxed from the tension. Hermione glanced over at him, smiling softly. One small action and his heart soared.

Hermione.

At the mere thought of her, Harry's knees grew weak. Thankfully, he was sitting on a stool; else he would have collapsed to the ground. As it was, it took all of his will-power to keep his hands steady. If they were shaking anymore, his fine powder would have covered the dungeon floor with a nice dusting, adding to the dust already accumulated there.

This time, it was Ron who caught Harry's eye. Harry blinked a few times, in an attempt to rid himself of Hermione's spell. At first he avoided Ron's eye, for reasons still unknown to himself. Maybe it was because of the dream. Thoughts of his dream the night before played on his brain, the images flying past his eyes with a vicious ferocity. Would there eventually be a contest between them? Could Hermione separate that which was inseparable?

Harry let his eyes wander about the room, stopping to look at the Gryffindors and Slytherins assembled for Double Potions. His eyes fell on Malfoy who was sending an amused smirk his way. That was enough for Harry. His eyes narrowed and he was free of Hermione's spell.

For now at least.

Harry glanced back at Ron, sending his best friend a weak smile. He wasn't quite sure he could accomplish more than that at the present.

'Are you okay?' Ron mouthed to Harry, 'You don't look so hot.'

'I'm fine,' Harry replied silently, his eyes flicking back to Snape briefly. 'I'll be better once this class is over.'

"Mr Potter?" Snape's voice seemed to echo over the din in the dungeon. Harry cringed. Couldn't he get through one class without Snape bugging him?

"Yes, Professor?" Harry asked, feeling all eyes in the room circle in his direction. He could feel the back of his neck grow warm.

"Is there something you would like to share with the rest of the class? For it seems that you and Mr Weasley were having a wonderfully engrossing conversation."

Harry heard a snicker come from Malfoy's direction. Snape shot the blonde a look, but said nothing. Had the situation been any different, Harry would have gloated over the silent chastisement Snape's favorite student received. As it was, he was trying to keep Gryffindor from losing any more points on account of him. So, despite the temptation, Harry remained silent.

"No, sir," Harry answered finally, sinking even lower on his stool.

Snape merely raised an eyebrow, and then resumed his pacing in the front of the classroom. Harry stared at Snape with disbelief plastered across his face. How in the name of Merlin did he manage to get out of another point deduction? He could see the desire in Snape's face. Yet, something held him back. Something...

But what?

No matter how Harry racked his brain, no plausible answer came to him. Over and over, his mind brought up the possibility that Voldemort was on the move. Was it possible? The only way to know for sure would be to see Snape's forearm. And that was certainly something Harry couldn't ask to see. He could only imagine the absurdity of the scene.

'Professor Snape, something has been bothering me these past few days, and I was wondering if you could help. Would you mind lifting the sleeve of your robe so I could see if the Dark Mark is there? Thank you ever so much.'

Even in his mind it sounded absolutely ludicrous. He could only imagine the look on Snape's face. Well, the before and after look that is. The shocked look first, followed by the gloating expression... after Gryffindor had lost another fifty points.

No, directly asking Snape wouldn't do. Still, Harry knew Voldemort was on the move. He could feel it in his bones; in his very being. Constantly, he had the feeling as if he was being watched. Yet, no one was ever behind him. There was no Dark Lord lurking around the corner, ready to spring and finish the job he had started so long ago. No, Harry was always alone with his thoughts. Even in the darkest of nights, it was only him.

Cedric.

For the second time that class, Harry nearly dropped his mortar and pestle. It had been years since the Hufflepuff's face had graced his mind. Why today of all days? Why on the day when his thoughts were his worst enemy?

Once again, Ron threw him a concerned sideways glance. Harry merely shook his head, not daring to speak. He glanced at the door, as if to say 'we'll talk after class.' Ron nodded in reply, and then went back to grinding up his roots.

Harry stole a quick glance in Snape's direction, to make sure the professor hadn't seen the quick exchange between Ron and himself. Unfortunately, such was not the case. Snape was looking at Harry with a penetrative stare. It was a stare that chilled him to the very core of his being. But, it wasn't because the look contained loathing or hate. No, something else was there.

Compassion.

It seemed to be a completely alien expression to Snape's face. Especially considering the fact that all Harry ever saw on the Potion Master's face was hate. A hatred that had escalated during his third year. It was a night that would ever be ingrained in his memory. Hermione, Ron and himself; were sitting in a room in the Shrieking Shack with Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. Moments later, Snape had burst in on the scene. The confrontation between Sirius and Snape that had ensued... After that day, Harry was positive it was McGonagall's interference that kept him from failing Potions completely.

The next ten minutes of class passed without any further incident. Harry tried to ignore the snickering coming from Malfoy's corner of the class. He wouldn't give into the temptation to fight with the Slytherin. Not when it would only please Snape too much.

At long last their potions were finished, and left to simmer in the cauldrons. Snape approached the front of the classroom, folding his arms across his chest. If it were possible, Harry would have sank further into his seat, in an attempt to be as small as possible. He could almost feel another lecture about the immaturity of the Gryffindors coming on. It wasn't that he feared Snape or even hated him. Harry merely didn't want to be the cause of the loss of points anymore.

"I would like to discuss the effects of the Confusing Concoction which is currently brewing in your cauldrons."

Harry nearly dropped his quill. Something strange was definitely going on with Snape, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know just what. As long as he stayed out of trouble, that was enough for him.

As Snape droned on about the antidote, Harry felt his eyelids drooping. His late night was beginning to catch up with him. He knew he had to keep awake. He couldn't give Snape a third opportunity.

He couldn't...

So much for the power of the conscious to suppress the subconscious. Harry felt himself drift into sleep and was powerless to stop it. While he knew the consequences when he eventually awoke, his subconscious would hear none of it. The sandman didn't listen to pleas of the wary.

Once again, Harry felt as if someone were standing behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up like a warning sign. Warning Harry not to turn around. Warning him to ignore what was behind him. Warning him...

The temptation was too great. When you tell a person not to look down, the temptation to steal a quick glance down is intense. It's a dare. It's a game. Will you win or will you lose? No matter what you do, don't look down. Don't turn around. Be afraid of the face you see in the mirror. Evil lurks in every corner. But will you succumb?

The glance was brief, but it was enough. Only blackness surrounded him, but Harry could make out one figure in the dark. Two eyes, like blazing rubies, gleamed in the darkness. The cat-like eyes that seemed to follow him and know his mind. The eyes were wide open, but gave the impression of one sneering.

There was no mistaking whose eyes they were.

Harry said nothing, his heart beating a mile a minute inside his chest. Was this what he was waiting for? Was the final battle to occur in his dreams? Dreams... the only place where Dumbledore and Sirius couldn't protect him. The one true place that he was alone.

"Yes, we are alone, Harry."

The voice was soft, yet thunderous at the same time. It was amplified by the sounds of screams in the background. They were the screams of all of Voldemort's victims. Those of Neville's parents... of the Riddles... even his own parents. Harry could pick out the screams of his mother. The heart-wrenching scream that made him sick to his stomach.

"Or are we, my boy?" There was a slight pause before the voice continued. "I have come for you one last time... it is time for you to make your final choice. You know that you belonged in Slytherin. But you appealed to the hat, and the stupid thing fell for your lies. That doesn't matter. Be the first Dark Wizard to come from Gryffindor. Join the right side... it's inside you. You have the potential. Together, we can do great things."

The voice echoed in his mind, as if there were a hundred people speaking in perfect unison. Harry clamped his hands down over his ears, but not even that could shut out the voice. The screams. The agony.

"I will never give into you," Harry gasped out, falling to his knees. "I swear to you, I will fight."

"Such noble words for one so young... so frail... so stupid."

Voldemort stepped into a small circle of light, outlining his snake-like features. As much as he wanted to, Harry didn't recoil from the sight. From his position on the floor, he stood his ground. Voldemort took a second step forward, running a pale finger along Harry's cheekbone. A finger of ice. A finger of death.

"This is not the last, my boy," Voldemort said, disappearing with a pop. All that remained was his voice. "You will be mine, or you will die like your parents. Don't make their mistake."

Harry screamed. He hadn't meant to really, it had just come out. He fell to the floor with a nasty thud, his hands clawing at his face where Voldemort had touched him. Surprised voices accompanied by the scraping of stools against a stone floor briefly registered in his mind.

Voices spoke in a muffled cacophony. Every so often, Harry could pick out a word, but most remained jumbled in his mind. The worst part was that Voldemort's last words continued to echo through his brain. Louder and louder until Harry thought his head would explode.

'Together, we could do great things. Together, we could do great things... together...'

One voice managed to break through the repeated mantra.

"Harry, just open your eyes. It'll be alright. Trust me, open your eyes."

How was it that he could pick Hermione's voice out of all of them? Not knowing why he did so, Harry's eyelids fluttered open. The dungeon came back into focus and Voldemort's voice became a mere whisper. Harry's eyes landed on Hermione's face before they moved to Ron's. Both wore identical expressions of shock and concern.

His body seemed to regain control as he made a move to stand up. Ron immediately reached out a hand to help the green-eyed wizard rise. He was unsteady on his feet at first, but soon the jelly-like feeling left him. Ron helped him to his seat where he felt the eyes of the entire class on him.

"What's the matter Potter? Fell asleep in class?" Malfoy glanced over at his henchmen, flanking each side. "It figures. Potter can't do anything wrong. So, when he falls asleep, he makes a production out of it so that everyone forgives him." Malfoy fixed his eyes on Harry. "What's the matter? Hear your mother's pitiful voice? Did it make poor Potty all weak in the knees?"

If Snape hadn't spoken up, Harry knew he would have killed Malfoy, the consequences be damned.

"Malfoy, enough." For the first time in his life, Harry saw Snape narrow his eyes at Malfoy. It was a look he saw all too often. "Don't tempt me to take points away from my own house."

A snicker escaped from Ron's mouth before he could stifle it. A second look was shot in Ron's direction. "The same goes for you, Mr Weasley. I will have no compunction about taking points from Gryffindor."

The class had gone deadly silent. Never before had Snape threatened to take points from his own house. Malfoy was in the corner, sulking like a wounded puppy. Ron and Hermione were glancing about the class in shock. What next?

At last, Snape's eyes settled on Harry. His mouth instantly went dry.

'Here it comes,' Harry thought to himself, 'It's all over.'

"Mr Potter, I'd like to see you in my office. Class is dismissed."