When Harry woke up, he immediately grabbed his head. It was pounding, and every sound amplified by at least five times its normal sound. He could feel warmth surrounding him, but he was too tired to figure out what it was. He drew in a breath to steady himself. Almost instantly, he gagged, though, as the bile in his stomach lurched upwards.

As more of the gagging took over, Harry quickly rolled onto his side. However, he rolled too far and fell hard onto the floor with a big thump. Now all sprawled out on the cold hardwood floor, he groaned loudly before crawling army-style towards the bathroom. After two minutes of this futile attempt, he finally sighed and just lay flat on the floor. The coolness of it helped to calm his stomach somewhat. He stayed there for nearly five minutes in pure undisturbed peace.

However, as all good things much end, so did his temporary nirvana. Someone nearby loudly and harshly cleared his throat. Heavy footfalls then headed in Harry's direction before a very blurry face came into Harry's line of sight. He couldn't help it. The poor Gryffindor's nausea caught up to him, and he couldn't hold it back in time.

While vomiting violently, Harry's ghostly appearance slowly bled red as he flushed from embarrassment. He wouldn't kid himself. He knew precisely whom he had just gotten sick all over, and, unfortunately, it wasn't the nice grandfather-like headmaster. As soon as he regained control of his gag reflex, he hung his head and groaned quietly.

"Are you finished? Or is there going to be an encore to that lovely appearance?" a sarcastic voice drawled. There was no amusement in the man's voice. "After all, you haven't covered my entire boot with your vomit yet." Silence followed for a few short moments before the man sharply inhaled. "Why must I continue to torture myself with your ungodly pain in the ass self?" he said aloud. "Surely, I have paid enough for my sins to last a lifetime."

"I'm…" Harry's voice trailed off as he felt another dangerous lurch of his stomach.

"Oh, shut up, Potter. Don't continue to delude yourself any further to think you're the only one in the universe who has ever vomited on someone's shoes." Another sudden sharp intake of breath followed. "I suppose it was my fault. I should have intervened earlier. After all, had you not experienced some nausea, I would have been marginally concerned."

Harry then felt a slight tingle pass over his body as the vomit disappeared. The young man quietly hung his head. This day really couldn't get any worse, but he knew it would. Drawing up all of his Gryffindor bravery, he lifted his head up to meet Snape's eyes. The man, however, wasn't angry. He wasn't even frowning.

"Well, now that you aren't so atrocious looking, perhaps a shower is in order, Mr. Potter?" There wasn't really a choice involved. "Do try not to drown yourself while you are in there. I truly do not wish to be the one to tell the headmaster that his savior killed himself in the shower. After all, I believe we both know that the Order would consider me the first suspect in your untimely demise. Although, I do believe I have just cause in this instance. You did drink my entire bottle of Fairy Ice." Snape then quietly growled under his breath before glancing back at Harry. "I doubt you even realize how unbelievably lucky you are to be alive this morning." He shook his head for a moment before sighing again. "You have no idea how disappointed I am because of your appalling behavior last night."

"I'm sorry, sir," Harry replied in a quiet voice. He didn't want to withstand the worst of Snape's lecture anymore. Truthfully, the tone the older wizard was using made Harry's stomach lurch even more, but it felt different this time than all other times when he was in trouble with Snape. Could it be that Snape's disappointed tone was affecting Harry so much?

"Oh, I have no doubt you are sorry now," Snape responded. His tone was even. In fact, he looked rather calm as he stared at Harry. "You need to realize that your actions have consequences, Harry." He then drew himself up to his full height before going into intimidation mode. "Since I am sure that my lecture is not having its desired effect, you will write a four-foot essay on Fairy Ice. I expect to have it in my hands by dinner tonight. If you do not, then you should expect a very severe punishment. Is that understood, Potter?" Snape didn't even wait for Harry's response. Instead, he whirled around and walked out of the bedroom.

"Yes, sir," Harry quietly whispered. He felt even worse now.