"I didn’t have a nightmare last night," Harry said, gobbling his food down. "Or, at least I don’t think so. I think I had a dream, but I don’t really remember it." He took another few bites before looking at Snape. Snape, like during most meals, ignored him, opting to stare down his food rather than converse with Harry. "I think what we’ve been doing has been working, although I think I could read less. I’m running out of books for next school year."
"I do not fear you running out of books to read. I have plenty," Snape answered, and Harry sighed. Books, books, books. It was beginning to be so annoying. Well, not really beginning to. More like way past.
"Fine," Harry replied. "What book is it today?" he asked rudely, dropping his fork on the table. He was sick of reading.
"Potter," Snape said quietly, dangerous. "I have told you before, you will behave. You are given freedom all morning. And what do you do with that time? You sit and stare into the fire."
Harry was about to start yelling, but he was able to stop himself in time to actually think. As much as he didn’t want to admit it (he refused to, actually), Snape had a point. He started eating again, this time at a slower pace and ignoring the smirk that now appeared on the man’s face.
"What book am I reading today?" Harry asked again, this time actually wanting to know.
"I was thinking about letting you choose today, but because of your little outburst, I think I will postpone that a day. You will be reading the advanced potions text."
"Potions? But you said that you ‘highly doubt’ that I’d make it into your 6th year class. Why would I . . ."
"In the unlikely chance that you did receive an O on your Potions O.W.L., I will not have you blowing up the classroom. The potions that are worked with in the class take understanding, not just following instructions, which you have enough trouble with . . ." Snape trailed off, and Harry inwardly groaned. "Tomorrow, we will begin basic potion preparation," Snape finished. "Make sure that you have read though the book entirely, as you will be learning techniques from there."
Harry didn’t reply, just ate until he was full, then pushed his plate away.
"Where’s the book?" Harry asked, deciding not to fight on the matter. No matter what, Snape would win some way or other.
"It should be in the pile of books next to the sofa," Snape answered, and Harry got up and headed for the sitting room and sorted through the seven books on the table until he came to the Potions books.
"Another day reading," Harry complained to himself, deciding to read on the couch, even though it wasn’t very comfortable. He fixed that slightly by piling a few blankets on it, so it fit him perfectly now. At least he was given a choice on where to read, now. Snape seemed to be getting nicer as the days went on.
A chapter into the book, Harry was glad that it wasn’t just filled with potions, but information on how they worked and such. It he had to just read a bunch of potion recipes, Harry was sure he would have gone crazy. Not that what he was reading was really that much more interesting. If a bezoar worked to counter most poisons, why bother figuring out how to figure out how to make an antidote for those poisons, especially if the person could die before you could figure it out . . .
Unless, of course, there wasn’t a bezoar available (Harry vowed to keep one with him and all times now, especially after a conversation he and Snape had a few days ago about how there might be children of Death Eaters who might have orders to hurt certain people . . .), or if the bezoar didn’t work, they would have to figure an antidote out anyway . . .
He sat in the boat, the water he was floating in so clear he could see the skeletons on the bottom. He could have sworn they were smiling up at him. Because of the lack of any other landmark, he rowed the boat toward the island off in the distance. He never seemed to get any closer, and the number of skeletons on the water’s floor grew. Still, he knew he couldn’t stop. A ghost floating above him continued telling him that he couldn’t give up, because he would die if he did.
After rowing as fast as he could for an eternity, he hit something with his boat. Turning around, he found it to be a boat. Inside the boat was a skeleton. Getting nervous, he started rowing harder and harder, until every few minutes he would hit another boat with yet another skeleton inside.
He was about to freak when the next boat he had not a skeleton, but a person laying in the boat, still living.
"Don’t drink the water," the person said. "Poisonous."
"Poisonous?" he asked, trying to remember if he had been drinking it. Then he realized the person had drunk the water. "How do you get rid of the poison?"
"Need a stone," the person replied in a flat voice. "From the bottom of the water."
"But it’s poisonous," he cried. "I can’t go down there!"
"Need a stone," the person repeated, and he shook his head, getting ready to jump after he spots a skeleton holding a red stone. Holding his breath, he jumps and swims the short way down, takes the stone from the skeleton and climbed back into the boat once again. Vaguely, he realized he swallowed some, but he gave the stone to the dying person anyway. Couldn’t let the person die . . .
"Can you ever read without falling asleep?" Snape asked, waking Harry up, and it took him a few minutes before he realized what Snape had said.
"I didn’t fall asleep yesterday," Harry argued, then sighed, thinking about his dream. He didn’t think it was a nightmare. Sure, it was kind of weird, and a little scary, but it was nothing like his nightmares during previous nights and naps. This was the only one he remembered that didn’t involve the outright death of someone or pools of blood.
"Nightmare?" Snape asked shortly, and Harry shook his head.
"Weird dream, but not nightmare. I saved him," he said, outwardly proud of that fact.
"I see," Snape replied, sitting in his chair. "Continue reading. You have a couple hours of reading before walking yet. We will discuss your . . . dream before bed."
Harry shot the Potions master a smirk before picking up the book that was laying in his lap. He could sleep once again without having a nightmare that caused him to sick up or loose his appetite! As much as he didn’t want to continue reading the potions book, it was a lot easier to read it in a good mood. Even Snape and his stupid potions weren’t about to get him out of that good mood.
Harry smiled when he noticed Snape roll his eyes at his childish behavior. He didn’t care. He could sleep!
The End.