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Don't Lie to Me	By : Veresna Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 13611 -:- 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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CHAPTER THREE: THE DISCOVERY
Snape looked back and forth between the two frightened girls as if he were having a difficult time deciding which one of them he should murder first. He scowled and raised his right arm to shoulder level, his hand still firmly grasping his wand. Helena stifled a yelp as he turned towards her, and for a few horrible seconds she would have sworn that the tip of his wand was pointing menacingly between her eyes. She closed her eyes again and shivered, expecting at any moment to hear him whisper a curse that would blast her to bits. Instead, she heard a strange popping noise, and felt a cool breeze flow down upon her. She opened her eyes and looked up at the wall behind her. A large open window had appeared in the middle of the blocks of stone immediately above her head, and the chilly air flowing out of it was rapidly clearing the dungeon room of the noxious fumes resulting from the spoiled potion.
Snape-the tips of his finger still wound around his wand-was standing with his hands perched angrily upon his hips. He glared back and forth between them again, and this time decided to direct his wrath towards Angelique.
"Miss Carver," he bellowed. "Explain!"
Angelique’s teeth were chattering and her face was drained of color. "Um….I….it…." she stammered.
"I’m waiting, Miss Carver," he hissed through his clenched teeth.
Helena drew a quick breath and sought to intercede. "I’m sorry, Professor, you see we-"
"I am NOT addressing YOU, Miss Harrison!" he barked, not for a moment removing his poisonous stare from poor Angelique’s pale face.
"I’m sorry, Sir. I accidentally dropped one of the brass dissecting plates into the potion," she whispered, her voice low and gasping.
Incensed, Snape swooped down on her. "Miss Carver, did I not SPECIFICALLY state that it was ESSENTIAL to make sure that NO untreated metal came in contact with the potion?"
"Yes, Sir, but-"
"Do you have the slightest idea what would have happened it I had not been able to stop the reaction?"
Angelique shook her head helplessly.
"Well, let me tell you, Miss Carver. If I had not been able to immobilize the potion-and I assure you that if another few seconds had passed, I was not have been able to stop it-the whole school might have been obliterated."
"It was just an accident," she pleaded.
He snorted through his considerable nose and stared down at her unbelievingly. "An accident?"
Helena shivered again and absentmindedly hugged her ruined knapsack to her chest. Snape’s voice had just lowered to a whisper and had dropped down considerably in pitch. That was not a good sign.
"Yes, Sir," she replied.
"Ah, yes, I see," he replied sardonically. "An ac-ci-dent." He spat out each of the syllables with an especial loathing. He stepped closer to her and folded his arms across his chest. "Tell me, Miss Carver, is that ‘accident’ as in ‘the unforeseeable consequence of an uncontrollable chain of events’, or is it ‘accident’ as in ‘the usual ill fortune to be expected when a brainless ninny acts in her habitually irresponsible manner?"
"Well, um, uh, I-" she stammered again.
"Oh, be quiet!" he snapped, waving his hand at her in a gesture of dismissal. "Seventy-five points from Ravenclaw. And clean this mess up!" he added, gesturing in the general vicinity of the disaster zone that had previously been their work area. The stiff breeze that had been blowing in through the window had managed to clear nearly all of the smoke out of the way.
Angelique nodded and then looked around her doubtfully. "May I use my wand, Professor?" she asked timidly.
"Miss Carver, you may use your wand, a broom or a shovel if you like. In fact you can use your teeth to scrape that sludge off the floor as far as I’m concerned," he growled. "But I expect this area to be spotless before you leave this room." He raised his wand again and gestured angrily at the wall. The makeshift window disappeared from view.
He thrust his wand back into one of the pockets of his voluminous cloak and turned and began to stalk towards the front of the room. "The rest of you-back to your own potions!" he snarled. The other students immediately turned back to the worktables and bent over their own bubbling cauldrons.
Helena placed her ruined bag on the floor and walked slowly towards what was left of her worktable. She gingerly picked up the pieces of the ruined cauldron and began stacking them out of the way on the one undamaged corner of the table.
"Miss Harrison!" It was Snape’s voice barking at her.
"Yes, Sir." She looked up at him, startled.
"I believe you have your own rubbish to pick up before you begin helping Miss Carver?"
She looked at him blankly for a moment and then looked down at the floor where he was pointing.
Oh, yes, her bag had rather exploded, hadn’t it, she reminded herself bitterly. Yes, strewn all over the floor were her quills, books, and…..
And her sketchbook, she remembered suddenly.
With shaking hands she bent down and began retrieving the scattered items. Okay, there was her Transfiguration book and one of her quills. And there was her ink well; unbelievably it still had the cap firmly screwed down upon it! Another one of her books, some stray pieces of paper-
"Damn it" she thought. "Where the hell is my sketchbook?
She swiveled her head around and saw that a few feet away Lewis was surreptitiously holding his hand out to her from underneath his own table. Grasped in his fingers were her wand and another one of her quills. She scrambled over on her hands and knees and took the items from him. "Have you seen my sketchbook?" she whispered.
He shook his head apologetically. Snape’s menacing figure suddenly loomed above them from the front of the table, startling them both. He shot a look of pure venom in Lewis’ direction.
"Unless you are anxious for a repeat performance of this afternoon’s little excitement, I should suggest that you attend to your own potion, Mr. Thurston," he noted, acid dripping in his voice.
"Yes, Sir," he replied, quickly turning away and ostentatiously devoting his attention to his own cauldron.
"Do you require any help, Miss Harrison?" Snape inquired, coldly.
"No, Sir," she assured him.
He sniffed contemptuously and turned away from her. As he spun around, she heard his foot hit something and send it skittering across the stone floor. She glanced over and saw her sketchbook, lying face down on the floor with the pages spread open and the spine sticking into the air.
And Snape was bending down to pick it up.
In a moment, all of her hastily retrieved items were once more unceremoniously dumped back onto the floor. By the time she had managed to jump to her feet and dash over to where he was, however, he had already straightened up and was scrutinizing the cover.
"Thank you, sir" she said, blithely, holding out her hand for the book.
He cocked an eyebrow at her and smirked. "I see you are you an artist, Miss Harrison?" He was holding the sketchbook firmly in his hands, showing no sign of surrendering it to her.
She felt her cheeks begin to flush wildly. "No, not at all, sir."
He gazed at her with a look of elaborately mocking surprise. "Well, your name is on the cover and this book appears to be full of sketches," he noted. He sneered and flipped up the cover page.
"Just some very bad and stupid drawings, Sir," she protested weakly. Her hand was still outstretched and he was pointedly ignoring it. She wondered if she should just try to snatch it out of his hands. Whatever penalty he might inflict upon for her impudence would be nothing in comparison to what he would do to her if he caught sight of the last sketch she had done.
A second later, she had lost her chance. "Oh, I’m sure you’re being much too modest," he taunted as he strode away from her, his right hand rapidly flipping back the pages as he scanned through them.
"Please, sir, I-" she began, helplessly.
And then she saw him freeze in mid-step. His back stiffened and he stood riveted in attention, staring down at the page. She rose on her tiptoes to peer over his shoulder to see exactly which drawing he was looking at. From the small corner of the sheet that she could see, she could tell that he was looking at the first drawing she had done that day. The one that featured only Professor Binns.
Time seemed to stand still again and her thoughts took on a weird, disjointed form.
All right. Okay. No, not okay. This was bad. Really bad. But maybe he would just fling the whole book down in disgust.
No such luck.
She glanced over at his face. She had the definite feeling that he was trying to keep his features as neutral as possible, but she thought she could discern the slightest trace of shock in his expression.
The inside of her mouth felt as dry as if it were filled with cotton. She opened and closed her lips a number of times, trying vainly to think of something to say. She glanced desperately back at Ang, but her roommate was so preoccupied with trying to clean up her own ungodly mess that she hadn’t even noticed Helena’s predicament. Lewis was throwing her some furtive looks of concern, but of course he didn’t appreciate the depth of her dilemma.
Her mind was racing again, throwing out random thoughts in rapid succession.
Okay. He’s not screaming yet. Just standing there. Staring at the page. Come on now, Snape. Just close the book. Yes, close the book. Slam the cover shut. Tell me my mind is permanently mired in the muck of the gutter. Take off a zillion points from Ravenclaw. Tell me to go stick my drawing hand into a cauldron of dissolving potion. End of story. Oh, well. With a little practice, I’ll get used to using my wand left-handed.
Snape turned over to the next page.
She took a step backward, as if that would shield her from the explosion that she still expected was imminent. She stole a look around at the rest of the class. Most of the students were still concentrating on brewing their own potions and so far few of them had seemed to notice that their instructor was standing as if rooted to the floor, dumbly staring down at the pages of her sketchbook. The few that had were probably just relieved that he wasn’t prowling about the classroom, tossing off snide comments as usual.
She dared to glance back at Snape. She blinked her eyes as she saw him hold his arms out and turn his head slightly, as if to improve his angle of viewing. And for a moment she would have sworn that the very corners of his mouth were trembling just slightly. Not in anger, but as if he were fighting the urge to keep them from curling up in amusement.
Now, that was interesting. She knew that he and McGonagall were formally and insincerely civil to one other. Especially since Potter had come to Hogwarts and Gryffindor had preempted Slytherin’s usual dominance of the Quidditch field and House Cup. And maybe, just maybe, Snape was just the slightest bit amused to see his stern and sanctimonious colleague showered in ridicule. Snape’s sense of humor tended towards the malicious, after all. He reveled in mean-spirited humor. Uh, as long as he wasn’t the butt of the joke.
So, okay. There’s no way I’m getting away with this. He has to punish me. But, maybe he’ll let me off easy. Maybe give me a year of detention licking bed pans clean. Maybe transfigure me into a blodger for the remainder of the Quidditch season. Maybe let the "Defense Against the Dark Arts" class practice their unforgivable curses on me. Maybe...
There was a faint whisper as Snape moved his hand to turn that page over too. To Helena’s ears, it sounded like the ominous roll of thunder. A second later, his hands were gripped so tightly around the sketchbook that there were white marks around his knuckles.
Or maybe I should just bend over and kiss my ass goodbye.
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