Harry had wanted to drop to the stone floor the very instant the soles of his shoes hit something solid. He found that as he wavered he was met with stern resistance. Snape still hadn’t released his firm hold on Harry’s arm. The Professor pulled the boy toward a chair. Once Harry was seated willingly, he took in slow dizzy breaths as he blearily glanced around. As far as he could tell he was in Snape’s office.

Snape pulled a small vial from his robes and offered it to Harry. The boy shook his head in stubborn refusal.

“Drink it,” came the cold command. There was something dangerous in Snape’s expression. Not wanting to tempt Snape’s temper the boy begrudgingly accepted the potion.

“What is it?” Harry asked, not even certain he cared to know the answer.

“Just drink it. It will help you,” Snape’s silky tone was edged with impatience, he did not like to be questioned by students.

Harry felt his stomach jerk sharply. ‘Don’t drink that, you’ll regret it,’ Harry heard his inner voice in a tone of warning. ‘I can decide for myself, thanks,’ he told himself. Without another moment’s hesitation Harry unstopped the vial and took the potion in one swallow.

The potion sent a warm shivering sensation throughout his body. He closed his eyes, enjoying the soothing feeling. Until the potion filled his belly, when it hit his stomach with the force of a swift kick.

Why had he listened to Snape instead of his inner voice? Harry should have known better than that. He should have known that Snape only wanted to see him suffer. With a sharp cry of pain Harry doubled over, clutching his mid-section earnestly. He was boiling from the inside. Snape was surely killing him.

Snape was surprised by the boy’s reaction to the potion. The potion he’d given to Harry was supposed to help ease his discomfort, not increase it ten-fold. The boy’s adverse reaction was very strange.

With surprisingly graceful speed Snape had returned to Harry’s side, offering him a second small vial that had been concealed in the folds of his robes. Some other poison, Harry thought as he shrieked in torment. The boy fell hard from the chair he’d been seated on and curled in a screaming ball of tortured flesh. Snape knelt down and tried to hold the vial to Harry’s lips to get the new potion into the boy’s system. The boy had his teeth clenched between gasping screams, it was impossible to feed him the potion without letting him aspirate it.

‘A sudden death is better than this torture,’ Harry’s inner voice told him, ‘take what he’s offering. End this suffering now.’ Harry would not disobey that small voice twice, obediently he relaxed his jaw and took in the potion that Snape offered.

A wave of fresh sickness came over Harry, and his stomach twisted in protest. Harry barely sensed something being held near his face. Was that a bucket?

As his stomach heaved violently he understood at once. Snape didn’t want him to dirty the floor of his office. Harry found himself gripping the sides of the bucket with unsteady hands. In a few miserable moments the fire in his belly had faded and now rested in a disgusting pool at the base of Snape’s bucket.

Snape frowned down at Harry, folding his arms neatly across his chest. The Professor made a small noise of disapproval. Perhaps the best thing to do for Potter was to try and find out what exactly had happened to him. It wouldn’t do to force him to drink another potion and unwittingly cause the boy to meet his end.

“Finished?” Snape asked giving Harry a look filled with disgust.

Harry closed his eyes and tried very hard to pretend that he was alone for a few moments. Snape wasn’t there staring at him with black drilling eyes. Harry wasn’t going to listen.

Snape whispered a spell over the contaminated bucket and pulled in out from under the boy with a slight scraping noise on the stone floor. He was staring again. Harry could feel it, even through his closed eyes, Snape wasn’t going to leave him alone.

“Why didn’t you let me die?” Harry stammered weakly.

Snape scoffed, “It is not my assignment to allow you to die. Did you miss what the Headmaster told you?”

“Well,” Harry began as he tried to force himself into a more dignified position, “you just tried to poison me. What was it that made you change your mind, Sir?”

“In spite of my feelings toward you it was not my intention to poison you. Nor was it my intent to send you into that unpleasant screaming fit. That potion should have helped to settle your stomach, your reaction to it was most unexpected.”

Harry stayed silent, he wasn’t sure if he could believe Snape or not.

“Potter, I need to know what happened to you during your absence from your relatives.”

“Sir, it’s like I told Professor Dumbledore. I don’t know anything,” Harry’s expression was blank, uncaring.

“You do realize that you were missing for four weeks? I should think you would have remembered something,” Snape narrowed his cold eyes, searching for the subtle hints of dishonesty that he’d come to know from being a Professor.

“So everyone tells me, Sir. But I don’t remember anything. I haven’t been anywhere,” Harry replied dismally.

“Hmmm,” Snape muttered thoughtfully. This was obviously getting him nowhere. “When was the last time you had a decent meal, or a shower for that matter, Potter?”

Harry shrugged, he didn’t know or care that he hadn’t eaten in quite a while. His stomach hurt too much to feel hunger pangs. And as for the shower he wasn’t too concerned about the way that he smelled.

Snape had all but dragged the famous Harry Potter to the showers a disgusted sneer creasing his pale face as he guided the weak Gryffindor’s path. Harry despite his serious lack of interest cleaned himself up and found a clean set of robes awaiting him. He dressed quickly. Well, as quickly as his fumbling hands could manage.

Harry emerged to find a glowering Potions Master. “Well that’s an improvement. Come along now, Potter,” Snape sighed as he began to lead Harry down to the dungeons.

Snape led Harry downward toward the familiar potions classroom. The Potions Master swished neatly passed the rows of empty desks toward a dark corner of the classroom. There was a large bookshelf that Harry recognized from all the time he’d spent in the classroom.

Snape raised his wand and whispered a charm in a gentle, silky tone. The laden bookshelf shifted booth easily and smoothly away from the wall. Harry was startled to see a heavy wooden door.

“Alohamora,” Snape chanted in a soft voice. The large door obediently opened with the familiar click of a turning lock.

Harry peered inside the hidden room. It was a prison cell. At that moment Snape’s intentions became very clear to Harry.

The boy slowly began to back away, if he was quiet Snape would not notice him leaving. Harry flinched as he felt a firm hand clamp down on his shoulder.

“Oh, I’m afraid you cannot leave just yet, Mister Potter. We have many things to discuss yet,” Snape purred darkly in his silky tone as he pulled Harry inside of the small bare cell behind him. “This will be much easier on you if you do not resist.”

The large door slammed shut, clicking locked due to Snape’s quiet charms. Harry was trapped. He was alone and completely at the mercy of Severus Snape.