Potionary Confinement

Accusations and Transfigurations

CHAPTER TWO

Harry estimated it was about evening. His legs were starting to hurt from how long they've been sitting there. He felt like his mind was rotting because he was in a tiny cupboard with the one person who hated him the most. Well... besides Voldemort and the Dursley's.

It was quite awkward really. Harry reckoned this was the longest him and Snape were ever alone together. And they eventually got so bored, that Snape transfigured things around the room into sand to trace a tic tac toe game.

They played silently. Snape or Harry winning once or twice since they both ended up drawing half the time. And when Harry traced an O and yawned, his forehead seared with pain.

He clutched his scar and screamed. He cried out louder until his throat was raw. Harry couldn't hear Snape calling his name, he could only feel intense anger. Somebody made him angry.

Harry must've passed out because next thing he knew, he was lying on the cold ground, his head resting on Snape's left arm. He was kneeled down next to him, holding a potion to his lips.

"Drink this," Snape said, which sounded foggy to Harry since he just woke up. "It's my last Pepper-Up Potion."

Harry coughed and drank, swallowing hard. He touched his scar and sat up, immediately embarrassed. He couldn't believe Snape saw him in such a state.

Harry crawled against the shelves, hugging his knees to his chest, blushing bright red.

"Does that happen a lot, Potter?" Snape asked curiously, putting the empty potions flask back inside his robes.

Harry shook his head. It never hurt that much before. It's been prickling a lot lately, but he's never felt intense feelings. And besides... why did Snape care?

But for some reason, he felt he could tell Snape about his concerns without him telling him to go to Dumbledore.

"Over — over the summer, I had a strange dream," Harry whispered. "And when I woke up, my scar hurt. I wrote to Sir — I mean my friend — "

"I know about Sirius Black, Mr. Potter. Dumbledore has told me everything," Snape said calmly.

"Sirius, yeah. I wrote to him and told him," Harry swallowed hard. "He told me if it hurt again, I should go to Professor Dumbledore."

Snape thought for a moment, thinking about everything Harry said. Dumbledore had discussed with him a lot about this, about Harry and this connection between him and the Dark Lord.

He wasn't going to ask about the dream because he knew he wouldn't want to share.

"The night the Dark Lord tried to murder you... he left a mark, or a connection, as Dumbledore would say. He believes you may be able to feel when the Dark Lord is near, or is having strong emotion," Snape said slowly, pausing at the right moments. "The dream perhaps, might've just been a dream."

Harry nodded, but was still very much confused.

"I felt... angry," Harry said, his voice quavering. "Do you think I should tell Professor Dumbledore?"

Snape cleared the sand. "I don't think there's any reason to raise concern at the moment. If it indeed gets worse than it was just now, then yes, I'd tell the headmaster. I believe he'd want to know."

Harry nodded and yawned again. He strangely felt relieved for the first time in weeks. Who would've known that talking to Snape would help?

It was so crammed in there, Harry felt as if he was suffocating. Suddenly, Snape stood up.