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The Boiling Point	By : lundbera Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 9769 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I make no claims to Harry Potter, either books or movies, and all rights belong to JKR. No money or other recompense is being made from this story.

Chapter List
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Harry Potter was practically panting. The room was sweltering, and his eyes were beginning to sting from the sweat that was steadily dripping into them, not to mention that they were already burning from the foul smelling concoction in front of him.

“Hermione,” he hissed, trying to get the young witch’s attention without attracting the same from the bleak shadow in the front of the potion’s room. “Hermione!” he tried again, a little louder. She shot him a quick glare, a warning glance to tell him to shut the hell up.

He frowned and dropped his shoulders in defeat. He was going to fail this potion, just like he had with practically every potion this semester. Snape wouldn’t be happy, but then, the greasy git never was. He snorted at the thought of Snape bouncing with joy, of that ugly face twisted into a sort of grimacing smile. Gross.

A dark shadow fell over his potion and he nearly groaned.

“Mister Potter. Can you, in all your finite wisdom, tell me what shade of color your potion is?”

“It’s, uh, green?” Harry mumbled. Why did Snape always have to pick on him?

“Uh, green?” Snape mimicked, a familiar sneer twisting his thin lips. “What shade of green, Potter?”

“Dark?” Harry glanced down into his potion, which was supposed to be a warm, minty green.

Snape’s sneer became more pronounced as he rolled his eyes at his student’s lack of creativity. “And what color do you suppose the potion is supposed to be? Light green? Hmm?”

“I guess. Sir.” Harry said, tacking the last bit on in a way that seemed to use Snape’s title against him, as if it were an insult.

“Dentention, Potter, for failing so miserably in potions as well as in life. Perhaps we can see how many shades of green you will turn when you have to scrub Hippogriff vomit out of the first year’s cauldrons.” Snape slid away, scowling at any student who happened to gaze at him.

Ron sent a sympathetic look his way, while Hermione sent him a guilty glance. He couldn’t help but feel a small stab of irritation with her. In intermediate potions, they were often required to create potions by themselves, with no contact with their classmates. Any talking resulted in a failure for the day and, in Golden Trio’s case, detention. Still, she was smart, brilliant really, and she could have found a way to communicate without Snape knowing.

He sighed, knowing that he was looking for someone to blame. He vanished the glop in his cauldron and then frowned. Something was still at the bottom of his cauldron. He glanced at Snape.

“Sir?” Harry called hesitantly, staring at the shining, green ball in his cauldron.

“What inadequacy are you going to bother me with this time Potter? Can you not achieve a decent vanishing spell on your own? Are you that coddled?” Insults continued to drip from Snape’s lips as he drew closer, but Harry wasn’t paying attention. There was something mesmerizing about that little ball…

“What is it, Potter, what are you gawking at?” Snape asked impatiently, and by this time the rest of the class looked curious too.

“There’s something in there.” Harry replied slowly, not tearing his eyes away from the ball. Snape frowned and leaned over, and two things happened simultaneously. A drop of Harry’s sweat slid down his nose, hovering on the tip of it before landing with a soft plunk on the shiny, softly glowing object. At the same time, Snape had reached into the cauldron, intending to pick the ball up.

Later, he would wonder what had caused him to do such a reckless act, but as his skin and the drop of sweat touched the ball at the exact same moment, both Harry and Severus were enveloped in a green, misty wave of light. Their forms shimmered and blurred, and it seemed that tendrils of spectral light were coming out of each separate form, until a cocoon of light cradled them both. The light built in intensity, and ended as abruptly as it began.

Snape and Harry both gasped as they were released from whatever had been holding them, and both staggered.

“Harry!” Ron yelled, catching his friend and examining him for injuries. “What the hell, mate?”

“I’m fine, Ron. Really.” Harry brushed off his friend and stared at Snape, who seemed to be at a loss just as much as he was.

“You are all dismissed” Snape spoke, his eyes glittering with anger. “Except you, Potter.”

Of Course. Harry thought while nodding his head miserably. He ignored the buzzing hum of whispers from his classmates and half-heartedly waved goodbye to his friends.

Hermione lingered, before blurting out, “Sir, don’t you think you two should get checked out in the hospital wing?”

“Miss Granger, do either of us look injured to you? It was nothing.” Snape stated in a bored tone, dismissing her with a flick of his long, potion stained fingers.

“But, profess—“

“I said leave, Granger!” Snape snapped, clearly irritated. She shot Harry one more concerned glance before leaving, shutting the door behind her with a small thump.

The room was deadly silent, and Harry looked at his feet, avoiding Snape’s furious gaze.

“Do you know what that was, Potter?” Snape finally asked, anger still apparent in his voice.

“No.” Harry didn’t hesitate, glancing quickly up at his professor’s angry face. He had to admit, he was quite curious.

“It was a fate stone.” Snape leaned against a desk, suddenly looking more weary than he ever had before. He rubbed his temple with one hand, grimacing at the sudden headache he had developed.

“A what? What does that mean?” Harry didn’t like the way Snape was acting.

Snape shrugged, lifting one thin, aristocratic shoulder in a careless gesture.

“I don’t know. There haven’t been many of them. They have appeared at random throughout history, and each time they affected people differently. Only one aspect has remained clear through each case. The two people who touch the stone…eventually develop a sort of telepathy with each other.”

“What?” Harry’s mind reeled. Snape was going to be able to…read his mind? He felt panic building. And, Oh god, he was going to be able to read his professor’s thoughts.

“Telepathy, Potter. The ability to communicate through thoughts…essentially, we will be able to read each other’s minds.” Snape looked vaguely sick at the idea.

“I know what telepathy means, Snape!” Harry exclaimed unhappily.

“Professor Snape.” The man in question corrected automatically.

“Oh, God. This isn’t happening.” Harry slumped into a chair, unable to stand anymore.

“It is, Potter. The other affects remain to be seen and will most likely develop over time. I am thoroughly displeased with the thought of being connected to your mind in any way as well. Although, I can’t imagine too much happens in there. Perhaps it won’t be too much different from before.” Snape sneered again.

“I will contact Dumbledore to explain the ah, situation. Expect a meeting with him within the next few hours.” As he swept out of the room, the taller man stopped suddenly and said, Your detention will take place tonight, at 8pm sharp. Do not be late.”

Harry’s jaw dropped and he opened his mouth to reply but Snape was already gone.

Life, Harry decided, was a bitch.
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The Boiling Point