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Strangeland	By : SilverEros Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4231 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Title

Strangeland

Author

Silver Eros

Rating

R

Disclaimer

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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Chapter Two

Nostrum of Etre

Harry awoke the next morning, feeling less chipper and considerably groggy, which was a bad thing as he needed strength to live through his morning and afternoon classes that day; those being Potions and Divination. Two of his least favored classes one after the other sounded extremely exhausting and he didn’t think it would help at all that he was tired already.

Too much homework last night. He said to himself wearily as he flopped back down onto his mattress and closed his eyes. If only today was Saturday...

He didn’t know if he’d drifted off again or how long he’d been laying there numbly but he was woken up roughly by a loud ‘thump!’ and an even louder curse coming from the bed next to his.

Harry let out a hoarse sigh and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands before reluctantly lifting his upper half onto his elbow and with the other arm, blindly reaching out to his nightstand for his glasses.

When he put them on, the world swam into focus and he found Ron curled up on his bed, cradling his foot with a very pained expression on his face.

“’Morning Ron.” Harry yawned as he stretched.

“Bloody hell, that hurt!” Ron swore again, the tips of his ears pink. “That’s the fourth time I’ve done that! You’d think it was trying to kill me or something!”

Harry, despite his need for more sleep, and his lack of energy, smiled slightly and ran a hand through his bed-squashed hair.

“I doubt that bedpost has a mind of it’s own...”

Ron snorted as if he didn’t believe it and rubbing his toe one last time, stood up gingerly and violently yanked a stray string from the hem of his slightly fraying pajama shirt.

“Whenever I do that in the morning, the day always turns out bad. It’s like an omen or something.” he grumbled.

“Well, we’ve got Potions and Divination today.” Harry offered dryly. “If it’s an omen, it’s not too off then.”

Ron looked at Harry, his frown fading a bit. “Yeah, but neither Snape or Trelawnly’ll have anything nasty to say today will they. We’ve got all our assignments done.”

Harry could only be half grateful for that, as staying up so late doing their assignments had been the cause of the state he was currently in. He gave Ron a skeptic look.

“Snape always has something nasty to say whether we do our work or not. He’ll probably give our essays zero’s, like he usually does.”

“But that slimy git still can’t flunk us from the class without a good reason.” smirked Ron. “Dumbledore won’t let him.”

“Yeah, I reckon so.” said Harry, shrugging. Shivering from the cold air in the dormitory, he crawled over to the end of the bed and leaned over the edge of the footboard to retrieve his school robes from his trunk. “I’m gonna take a shower before breakfast.” he told Ron as he got back up and off the bed and began walking toward the door. Ron nodded and gave him a lazy wave of his hand before he left.

Harry walked across the cold wood landing and into the boy’s bathroom and shut the door behind him.

Once under the steady rain of water, he tried to wake himself as much as possible by repetitively turning the knob right then left... right then left... hot then cold... hot then cold...

At the first contact of the icy water, he yelped and nearly bit his tongue, but after a few turns, he found that the method had been fairly effective; he was definitely awake. He was half shivering, half sweating and his eyes felt like they were about to pop out of their sockets.

He turned the shower off completely and then snatched a clean, green towel from the ample stack on the counter and dried himself with fumbling fingers. He flicked on a switch by the door and instantly, a mildly loud rumbling bounced off the slick walls and the thick steam disappeared completely.

He pulled on his boxers, black trousers, shirt, and then briefly examined the full length mirror to adjust the knot in his tie before contemplating his hideous hair, which he ran a comb through several times, but gave up on in the end, like he did everyday.

Shrugging into his robe and bundling up his discarded pajamas into a ball, he trudged back into his dorm where Ron was already dressed and waiting for him. He quickly tossed the ball of clothing onto his unmade bed grabbed a pair of old socks and his shoes.

“Right. Let’s go.” he said when he’d finished tying his laces and crammed all his books and parchment into his timeworn bookbag.

When they climbed the spiraling staircase down to the common room, they found Hermione sitting on the long couch by the fire as usual, all ready to go, with Crookshanks curled up on her lap, and a thick novel in her hand.

“I’ve always wondered,” said Harry scratching his head. “but what time do you get up in the morning, Hermione?”

Hermione looked up and smiled.

“Good morning you two. Had a nice sleep?”

Ron and Harry both shook their heads and Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Even though I think it’s ridiculous that boys need so much sleep, I am proud that for once, you finished all your homework in one sitting.”

Ron looked at her confusedly. “What do you mean, we need so much sleep? We hardly get enough!”

Hermione raised her eyebrow. “You usually sleep for eight hours.”

“Only eight.” corrected Ron.

“Well then how many hours of sleep do you get Hermione?” Harry asked, rephrasing the question he’d asked earlier.

“Oh about five or six.” she said airily.

Ron’s eyes went wide and he stared at her as if she’d gone insane.

“Five hours?” he exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Five hours? You’re out of your tree, I tell you.”

“Well, there are some things worth sacrificing in order to study for NEWTs you know.” she chided in a disapproving tone. “I don’t want to regret it later on in my life if I end up getting unsatisfactory scores. And you two should try to devote as much of your time as possible to your studies too, instead of wasting it. They won’t accept you at the Ministry without top grades.”

Harry knew that she was right. McGonagall had told him that in his fifth year, and warned him that if he didn’t work harder in all his classes, there was no chance of him ever receiving enough NEWTs to become an Auror. And of course, there was nothing he’d rather be more after he graduated from Hogwarts.

“We don’t exactly waste our time.” Ron said defensively. “We’ve got Quidditch, for one thing. And that’s five times a week.”

“Do you really need so many practices?” Hermione asked impatiently. “You’d do just fine with three. That used to be the norm until last year.”

“Of course we need that many! We’ve got a House Cup to win Hermione! And we’re not giving it up to Slytherin like we did last year. I’ll die before I hand over that cup to those bloody bastards this year! I’m not leaving Hogwarts knowing they’ve got the last smirk!”

Hermione actually cowered at the look of fury on Ron’s face and after a couple of breaths and a tap on the shoulder from Harry, the redhead cooled a bit; enough to feel embarrassed about his explosion.

“Sorry.” he muttered in an undertone to Hermione who huffed, looking extremely ruffled.

“Fine then. Keep your practice hours.” she sniffed. “But don’t come running to me when you’ve realized that you have to repeat a year like Montague from lack of NEWTs.”

“I’ll do fine.” Ron muttered stiffly, sending a heated glare at a first year who was staring at him as if he was a three-headed dog named Fluffy.

“Well then, that’s settled. Let’s go down to breakfast.” Harry suggested cheerfully, as the first year ran off with a frightened ‘meep!’.

They exited the portrait hole among a trickle of other Gryffindors all headed for the Great Hall for breakfast.

The Great Hall was back in it’s usual state; all the carved pumpkins, and sparkling black drapes were gone, and it left it looking rather empty. About half the school was already scattered amongst the house tables and at the Gryffindor table, Neville, Dean, Seamus, and several others were there, eating porridge and looking just as tired as Harry felt.

“Morning.” Harry and Ron said as they sat down after depositing their bags by their feet.

“Morning.” came a chorus of echoes from the group.

Hermione immediately pulled out her Prepatory Potions book and ladling a fair amount of porridge into her bowl, briskly began to spoon the mush into her mouth while her eyes never left the potion-stained and dog-eared pages.

But it was such a normal sight that no one commented at all.

“I heard we’ve got to brew a really difficult potion today.” spoke up Seamus, a look of foreboding on his face.

“When has he ever assigned anything easy?” said Ron, eyeing the porridge distastefully. Every year, on the mornings after the big feasts, Ron would make that same face at the table. Harry suspected strongly that it had to do with how much Ron would eat during those feasts. Enough to feed a starving hippogriff, he mused.

Neville was looking terrified at the statement and instinctively glanced at Hermione, who had looked up from her book and smiled back at Neville reassuringly.

“She helps Neville out, but won’t help her best friends in their times of trouble.” Ron said, annoyed.

“Well, I don’t blame her... Neville wouldn’t survive potions without Hermione’s help.” replied Harry fairly. And it was true. If only Neville didn’t want to become a medicinal herb physicist. They were required to receive top NEWTs in Potions. A true nightmare for poor Neville.

Of course, Aurors had it the worst off. They had to get top NEWTs in all the most difficult subjects like Potions, Divination, Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Twenty minutes later, the group started off toward the stairs leading to the Slytherin Dungeons. Dean and Seamus were lagging behind and talking in tones that didn't reach their ears.

“What are they gonna be again after school?” asked Harry as they descended lower underground, the temperature dropping with every step they took.

“Both of them want to work with Dragons don’t they?” Ron said, scratching his head. “They were really impressed with the Triwizard Tournament when you fought that Hungarian Horntail. And then they met Charlie and thought he was cool.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely cool.” agreed Harry, making Ron grin a bit. "But why do they need to take Potions?“ he added as an afterthought.

He then turned to Hermione. “Why do you need to take Potions to become an Arithmancy professor?” he asked.

Hermione gave him a look that said quite clearly, that the answer to that was the most obvious one in the world.

“All professors have to at least pass the subjects offered during NEWTs year.” she said. “It’s a requirement.”

“So you’re telling me that Snape passed Muggle Studies?” Ron said disbelievingly.

“Well, not those subjects. Just the ones required for students to take during first and second year. Muggle Studies isn’t a required class is it?”

Ron frowned disappointedly. “Darn, I was hoping it was part of the requirement. Then I could laugh at Snape’s ugly, greasy face and tell him to quit discriminating against non-purebloods.”

Hermione’s lips curved into a small smile at that.

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“Today, we will be brewing a potion that consists of dittany, hellebore, nettle, essence of belladona, jobberknoll feathers, porcupine quills, rat spleen, scarab beetles, eggs of an ashwinder, fireslugs, pogrebin hair and ginger. I expect you all to be able to tell me what these ingredients add up to... Potter -!”

Snape turned on his heel and pointed his wand at Harry with a nasty sneer on his face.

Harry’s mind raced as he ran through all the potions that he could remember off the top of his head.

“Wh- what were the ingredients again?” he asked.

“Tsk, tsk.” Snape’s sneer grew even more nastier. “And you expect to pass this class Potter?”

Immediately, after Snape’s eyes had left Harry, Hermione’s hand shot up into the air, but Snape ignored her and turned his back to them and strode across the room over the the Slytherins who were smirking delightedly in Harry’s direction.

“Mr. Malfoy. Kindly help out poor Mr. Potter.”

Malfoy’s eyes met Harry’s, and they were flickering with uncontrollable mirth. The blonde made a show of leaning casually back in his chair smugly, examining his nails.

“The Nostrum of Etre.” he replied in an utterly bored tone. His eyes flashed once more at Harry.

“Excellent.” Snape said almost gleefully. “Twenty points to Slytherin.” he then proceeded back up the aisle to the front of the classroom and flicked his wand at the long, black chalkboard and white letters jerked across the surface.

“The Nostrum of Etre.” Snape repeated evilly, narrowing his eyes at the class. When they finally landed back on Harry, Harry had to grit his teeth to keep himself from turning pink with anger. “I don’t suppose you can tell me what this potion is used for, can you, Potter?” he spat icily.

Hermione’s hand was straight as a stick in the air and her eyes were as wide as dinner plates.

Harry remained silent and pursed his lips.

“I didn’t think so.”

Harry glared at Snape, his fingers itching to yank that malignant smile off of Snape’s sallow face.

“The Nostrum of Etre, Potter. Is a very very advanced potion that has approximately an eighty-five percent chance of becoming a deadly poison if any mistakes are made in the brewing.”

The whole class winced at the information, looking fearfully at one another.

“That means,” Snape went on, clearly enjoying the building tension in the room. “That only two of you will manage to brew it correctly. The others will all be poison.”

Neville was positively quivering from head to toe and his face had gone as white as chalk.

Harry was sure that he would be one of those many that would turn out with a poison instead of a potion in the end. The two students that would obviously do it right would be Hermione and Malfoy. There was no question about that. He felt his heart sinking as thoughts of a big fat ZERO danced it’s way into his mind.

But Snape’s happiness faded quickly and was replaced by a menacing scowl only seconds later.

“But, as this potion is something another teacher requested that I have you brainless lot brew... it is a great disappointment to say that nobody will fall down dead today.

“Open your books to page five-hundred and sixty-eight!” he snarled.

There was a wild scrambling as all the students flipped through their books.

“Everyone will be at their own cauldron today. You know what to do, don’t waste time, as you will need every second of this class to brew this potion.” he hissed, his beetle black eyes looking into each face, and making them draw back in fear. “What are you waiting for? Get started!” he barked, and Neville toppled over from his seat.

There was a great rush to the student cupboards as everyone hurried to get the needed ingredients before they ran out of the freshest.

Ron was looking at Harry uneasily, as if he had great doubts that he would be able to make the right potion, and Harry couldn’t feel more agreeing. He would be lucky if he didn’t make about a hundred mistakes, because from the looks of it, this Nostrum of Etre was indeed very difficult. One stir in the wrong direction, one minute of idle bubbling, and it would be ruined.

He silently marveled at Hermione who’s eyes were narrowed in concentration as she read through each and every instruction carefully before dividing the ingredients into groups and proceeding to cut them up with painstaking neatness. Harry was already sweating from both nerves and the hot steam wafting unpleasantly from his cauldron, but he rolled up his sleeves and braced himself before taking up the knife.

Only minutes later, his arm was beginning to ache as he struggled to cut the dittany, which was a thick brown and completely solid stick-like plant.

Brushing his arm across his damp forehead, he exhaled heavily and glanced up to find that he wasn’t the only one struggling with the plant. Nearly the whole class had their tongues between their teeth, as they muscled their way with their knife.

Hermione, despite her efforts, could hardly make a dent through her dittany and she was beginning to look frantic as the minutes ticked by. Looking down at his half cut stick, he slid his pieces over onto her desk noiselessly and took her unblemished stick. Hermione looked at him with a startled expression and at first opened her mouth to refuse but Harry nodded toward Snape, who was leering over Parvati’s cauldron and had his back to them.

Thank you so much. She mouthed, her eyes glittering with grateful tears.

Harry smiled back and took up his knife again, but before he could start cutting, he caught a pair of grey eyes once more.

Malfoy was smirking at him with his eyebrows raised, and Harry was sure that he’d seen Harry and Hermione trade ingredients. Harry panicked only for a split second before shooting Malfoy the foulest glare he could muster, warning him to keep him mouth shut or else...

Malfoy just continued smirking though and nodded down at his own dittany stick that was finished and at the ready next to his frothing cauldron. Harry’s eyes widened and he followed Malfoy’s gaze over to Goyle who was mincing the solid stick as if it were made of wet clay.

Sulking slightly, Harry went back to his work.

Halfway through. He panted inwardly as he mixed in the rat spleen and stirred once clockwise, twice counterclockwise, and seven times clockwise. So far, he was pretty certain that he hadn’t made any mistakes. His dittany had been successfully cut and was in melting his cauldron along with the rat spleen.

He wanted to see how his friends were doing, but there wasn’t even a second to spare. Every minute was as precious as his own life. His eyes were constantly on the clock, counting the seconds as they ticked by until he could add the next ingredient.

The thick liquid inside his pewter cauldron was a deep, deep, crimson. Exactly the color of blood. The sight made Harry’s stomach churn.

He nearly dropped the whole bottle of fireslugs when a scream sliced through the silent air and he managed to catch it by the cork just before it landed in the potion.

Still keeping an eye on the clock, he snuck a quick glance toward the direction the voice had come from and was dismayed to see that Neville was writhing on the floor beneath his desk, the red mixture seeping through his robes and across the floor.

“EVERYONE CONTINUE WITH THEIR POTIONS!” Snape shouted, his teeth barred as he approached Neville. He waved his wand at the spilled potion and it instantly disappeared, leaving a path of charcoaled stone. Neville’s screams were filling the whole classroom as he flailed in agony; his skin looked as if it were actually melting.

Harry had the strong urge to rush over to Neville but Snape’s expression made him stay put and with trembling fingers, he stirred thrice counterclockwise, ten times clockwise, once counterclockwise, and once clockwise.

“No one leaves without finishing!” Snape snarled before conjuring a stretcher and levitating Neville onto it and then running out of the classroom.

When they left, Hermione let out a whimper, and she was chewing on her lip. Ron’s face was as white as Neville’s had been and he gulped as he concentrated even harder on his concoction.

Malfoy though, was laughing.

“I was wondering when the nimrod was gonna fuck up. Got me worried that he’d actually make a flawless potion for the first time in his pathetic life.”

It was all Harry could do to keep himself from flinging his cauldron at Malfoy’s head.

“Shut the bloody hell up, Malfoy!” Ron shouted furiously, his free fist clenching his wand.

“Do yourself a favor and do something stupid so you can end up in the Infirmary with Longbottom.” Malfoy drawled, blowing a strand of blonde hair from his face. “We’d all love to see what a deformed weasel looks like.”

“Ron! NO!” Hermione screeched, as Ron pushed up his sleeves. “You have to finish brewing that potion!”

Ron glared at her. “Sod this damn potion!”

“Ronald Weasley! Get back to your desk this instant!”

He halted and looked back and forth between his cauldron and Malfoy’s taunting face and after throwing him a crude hand sign, stomped back, shouting a series of words that would have landed him in a months’ worth of detention if a teacher had caught him.

Just one more stir.....

Harry prayed in his mind that his potion was flawless. All that hard work...

The potion was as scarlet as ever and producing bright orange wafts of smoke. With an unmeltable pewter ladle and wearing a pair of thick dragonhide gloves, he bottled some carefully and corked it firmly.

Finally. Done.

Slumping dead into his seat, he pulled off his gloves and loosened his tie that he’d just noticed was choking him. He took off his outer robe and sat fanning himself ineffectively with his dirt covered hands.

“DONE!” Ron cried proudly, tossing his bottle of Nostrum of Etre into the air and snatching is swiftly.

“Same here.” Hermione said quietly, a fatigued, yet relieved expression on her face. “Thank goodness. That was positively the most horrid potion we’ve ever had to brew, wasn’t it?”

Echoes of ‘done!’ and whoops of joy rang through the class as one by one, people began to finish up on theirs as well.

Snape still hadn’t returned but one look at the clock told him that he’d finished in perfect timing. Three minutes until the end of class.

Ron was dancing around his desk with Seamus and Dean, who had both finished too until a splattering sound and a sputtering sound made everyone stop and look.

Ron was dripping with what looked like black goo. His mouth was puckered as he spit out the rat spleen in mouthfuls.

The whole section of Slytherins were banging the tables with their hands and screeching with laughter.

“Scourgify!” Hermione said hurriedly and the black goo was gone.

“Malfoy, you - you -” Ron’s face was purpling rapidly and he lunged at Malfoy with the face of a rabid lion. Harry grabbed the back of Ron’s robe just as Snape strode in through the door.

“Sir!” Malfoy spoke up immediately. “Professor - Weasley here tried to attack me!”

Snape rounded on Ron. “Weasley! Fighting in my classroom, while I am absent? I won’t allow it!”

“But -” Ron shouted, his face contorted with rage.

“Professor! Malfoy threw-” Harry joined in at the top of his lungs.

“I saw it too!” Seamus exclaimed, jabbing his finger at Malfoy.

“It was Malfoy who started it!” Dean added loudly.

“SILENCE! FIFTY POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR AND DETENTION FOR ALL FOUR OF YOU!!!” Snape bellowed, pointing at Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Harry.

“You slimy asshole!”

The whole class fell absolutely silent as Snape froze, his were fists clenched so tightly that Harry was sure those long nails were drawing blood.

“Detention for a month, Weasley. And two hundred points from Gryffindor.” it was barely a whisper. “Class dismissed.”
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Strangeland