Bezoar
Harry and Ron meet up with Hermione outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, but it isn’t until later that evening, in the Common Room, that Harry gets the opportunity to speak with Hermione about everything that’s been whirling around inside his head ever since he overheard Severus and Malfoy.
He’d been playing exploding snap with Ron for a good hour, until Lavender had showed up and attached herself to Ron in her usual fashion, and Harry had gone to join Hermione at the other end of the Common Room instead.
As soon as he sat down, she tossed a bit of parchment at him and with a sinking feeling he smoothed it out and realised she’d drawn up a revision shedule for him.
”What?” she says sharply.
”Nothing”, Harry says quickly, determined to stay in his friend’s good books. ”This is great!”
”It’s never too early to start revising!”
”Oh yeah, totally”, Harry mumbles and hopes it sounds at least somewhat sincere, and struggles to keep his face at the very least neutral, if not excited.
But really, he thinks as he adds up the hours Hermione has spread over the week. Did she imagine he would go without sleep this term? She obviously hadn’t taken Quidditch into account at all, but at least she’d allowed for Dumbledore’s lessons ”and/or Slughorn” as she’d scribbled neatly in the small window of spare time each week.
”You’re worried about Quidditch, aren’t you?” Hermione says sharply.
”No, no, it’s fine. I’ll… work it out… somehow…”
”Oh, honestly, just… Fine, give it here…”
Hermione snatches the schedule back and starts making corrections with such swift movements Harry almost expects the quill to slash through the parchment, all the while muttering under her breath about boys and their priorities.
”That’s a bit sexist, you know”, Harry says and recieves a stony glare in response. ”Hey, I’m just saying… a lot of girls play Quidditch too, it’s not a… boys… thing… nevermind.”
”Yes. Thank you, Harry. I’m well aware that Hogwarts is full of dunderheads of both genders who care more about the Quidditch cup than their own NEWTS results—!”
”Okay, okay! I’m sorry!” Harry cuts in before she can gather enough steam and holds his hands up in a show of surrender. ”Forget I said anything… Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something…”
”What?” Hermione says and squints suspisciously at him.
”Well…” Harry says awkwardly, realising it probably won’t come as a surprise since it’s the only thing he ever seems to talk to her about nowadays. ”Se- Snape… and Malfoy.”
”Oh Harry…” Hermione sighs, but her face softens immediately.
”No, listen, it’s not like that”, he mutters hurriedly. ”During Slughorn’s christmas party, I don’t know if you noticed, you were kind of hiding at the time, but Malfoy—”
”Was caught by Filch trying to gatecrash the party, professor Snape escorted him out of there and you followed them”, Hermione interrupts and gives him a pointed look, but Harry isn’t exactly sure what the look is trying to point out, so he isn’t sure what he’s supposed to say to that and settles for an awkward Eh right yeah.
”Honestly Harry, you’re as discreet as a bludger sometimes”, Hermione says with an eye-roll that is just as fond as it is exasperated.
”Well, never mind that”, Harry bristles. ”I followed them, under my Cloak you know, and I overheard them talking in a classroom…”
Harry tells Hermione everything that Severus and Malfoy said, word by word, and then waits with bated breath as she mulls everything over. Unlike Ron, she didn’t interrupt his story once and so far she hasn’t expressed any doubt about any of it, like the Unbreakable Vow, and Harry wonders if that’s because she doesn’t know what it is, but then decides that no, that’s unlikely.
”And you’re worried Malfoy won’t let Snape help him?” she whispers finally, throwing Harry completely for a loop.
”W-What?”
”Well, I mean, you already knew Snape had promised Draco’s mother to look out for him and help him with this task whatever it is…”
”Well yeah but…”
”And I’m assuming you knew about the Unbreakable Vow, I’m assuming you overheard them make it?”
”Well, yes…”
”So you didn’t actually learn anything new when you eavesdropped on Snape and Malfoy that night”, Hermione states, more than asks, and Harry realises that no, no he hadn’t really…
So why had he felt so disturbed by the conversation? Why had he been obsessing over it the whole time he’d been at the Burrow, and why had he been so eager to talk to Hermione about it?
”So you’re worried about Snape”, Hermione says, and her face softens even further.
”Well I mean…” Harry mumbles, then trails off because he doesn’t know what he means and part of him wishes Hermione would help him out with that too, but another part of him fervently wishes that she’ll just change the subject because he isn’t all that sure he wants to know what he means anymore.
”Oh Harry…” Hermione murmurs again and gives him a sad smile, then gently pats him on the arm.
”What”, he mutters thickly. ”I’m not like… you know… with Se- Snape or anything.”
”Oh honestly, Harry. It’s not like I’ll tell anyone.”
”And even if I was, it wouldn’t matter anyway, because he only cares about bloody Malfoy anyway”, Harry has grumbled before he’s even aware of it and quickly slaps his hand over his mouth before it can betray him further.
”I’m sure it’s nothing like that”, Hermione says and gives him look.
”Well, what’s he playing at then?” Harry demands.
”What are you talking about? Harry, you know exactly what he’s doing, you were there when he… you know… That’s all it is, and I mean, that’s… that’s plenty. I’m sure it hasn’t been easy for professor Snape, especially if Draco won’t even accept his help or even reveal his plan to him, I can only imagine how stressful it must be…”
”It sounded like… like they were… I don’t know, hugging”, Harry mumbles, feeling his cheeks heat up immediately and Hermione gives him a weird look that does nothing to cool them down.
”It sounded like they were hugging?” she repeats.
”Yeah, you know…”
”No, Harry, I don’t know. What does a hug sound like?”
”Oh don’t… You know what I mean! Like they were really close, and then Malfoy started sniffling and I heard rustling, like, robes, like Severus robes, and then they sounded…. even closer…”
Hermione is giving Harry a wide-eyed stare by the end of his tirade, and he realises how mental it all sounds, but he doesn’t care because he’s so certain that’s what they were doing and it shouldn’t surprise him at all really.
When you think about it, it only makes sense, he thinks.
Severus had hugged and comforted him last summer, it only makes sense that he would do the same for Malfoy who is one of his Slytherins, but it really bothers Harry all the same.
”Well, I don’t know about that”, Hermione says. ”But I’m sure it wasn’t anything… untoward…”
”Right”, Harry mumbles.
*
”And so”, Slughorn says. ”I want each of you to come and take one of these phials from my desk. You are to create an antidote for the poison within it before the end of the lesson. Good luck, and don’t forget your protective gloves!”
Harry feels his newfound confidence in Potions start to steadily sink and by the time Slughorn gives him a blatant wink from the other side of the desk, it’s right back at the very bottom where Snape had left it at the end of last year. As much as Harry has come to… admire… the man since then, he’s not so twitterpated that he’s forgotten what a lousy Potions teacher he’d been.
If only he’d been a better teacher, I might have had some sort of grasp of elementary potions theory now and I wouldn’t be in this mess, Harry thinks sourly, but he can’t even convince himself that Severus could be to blame for the current situation.
As if reading his mind, Hermione pipes up from the other side of the desk, ”It’s a shame the prince won’t be able to help you with this, Harry! You have to understand the principles involved this time. No shortcuts or cheats!”
Harry throws her an annoyed look as he uncorks the poison he’d selected from Slughorn’s desk.
”You sure the prince hasn’t got any tips?” Ron mutters with a sympathetic look.
Harry doesn’t remember seeing any suggestions in that particular part of his trusted copy of Advanced Potion-Making but pulls it out and skims through the chapter on Antidotes anyway, keenly aware that his time as the best potions-maker in the class is finally at an end.
The only thing that the Hlaf-Blood Prince has added to that entire chapter is one sentence scrawled across a long list of antidotes: Just shove a bezoar down their throats.
Harry’s pulse quickens as he stares at the word… bezoar… and a memory flares up; The heavy oak door to the Potions classroom slamming shut behind them, Snape storming past them all and then coming to a swirling stop at the front of the class, his glittering black eyes flashing down at them… And then he’d spoken in that deep, silky voice… I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses, I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory and even put a stopper in death…
Harry remember the shiver that had run through him, and feels a ghost of it trickle over his skin now but the sensation is entirely different. At the time, Harry had thought professor Snape to be imposing and even a little creepy, which he’s now sure was Snape’s intention all along, but now… now the thought of that deep voice, and those dark eyes, has an altogether different effect on Harry.
But there was something else, Harry thinks and forces himself to focus. Antidote, bezoar, he thinks desperately.
Then again, maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough to not pay attention!
And then suddenly, that imposing, creepy, bat-like man was towering over him and Harry had felt his heart stop for a second, he’d been sure.
Mister Potter… Our new celebrity…
Harry sighs in frustration and slams the Potions book shut again. Bezoar, Bezoar, he thinks.
Tell me, Mister Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood? You don’t know? Well, let's try again. Where, Mr. Potter, would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?
That’s it, Harry thinks with it a jolt. I knew I’d heard it before.
Clearly fame isn’t everything…
No, Harry thinks. What did he say about the bloody bezoar. Think, dammit, think… A bezoar is a stone taken from… somewhere… Harry doesn’t remember, but it doesn’t matter, he realises. What did Snape say it did, something about saving you from most poisons, wasn’t it?
”Two minutes left, everyone!” Slughorn’s booming voice cuts through Harry’s thoughts.
Harry looks over at the store cupboard, his pulse racing by this point. If Snape had still been teaching potions he’d never dare try it, but with Slughorn… Oh, blast it, Harry thinks and hurries over and starts rummaging around desperately until he finds a small cardboard box with a faded label that reads bezoar in a near unintelligble scrawl, and he quickly opens it and snatches up one of the stones inside.
This is it, he thinks as he hurries back to his seat. Moment of truth.
Harry isn’t sure what’s most rewarding, seeing Slughorn’s face crack up or Hermione’s fall, but one thing is certain, the prince has saved him again — well, the prince and Snape, to be fair — and for the umpteenth time, Harry hugs the potions book to his chest and sends a silent thanks to the Half-Blood Prince, whomever he is and whereever he might be, if he’s even still alive.