Past The Point Of No Return (Neville)

[severus]

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[neville]

Neville was more ecstatic than he had ever remembered being in Snape's class. He was staring down at his potion, his hands shaking with excitement. Finally, after so many years, his potion looked the same as all the other potions in the room! Usually when they brewed potions, no matter how easy or difficult it was to make, he ended screwing it up drastically. For instance, yesterday's class. They had made this weird potion (Neville had forgotten the name already) that was supposed to be a clear color with a red tint to it. Neville's ended up dark purple. Of course, he had gotten bottom marks for the day.

But now he was actually doing it right! His potion, like everybody else's, even Hermione's, was a light blue color and was steaming slightly. He could hardly wait to add the next ingredients, and he barely noticed when Albus Dumblefore burst into the room. While all of the other students looked up in surprise, dropping whatever they were doing, Neville was carefully stirring his potion with a spoon, like the instructions said he had to do.

His eyes flickered up slightly as Snape declared that Hermione and Malfoy were in charge, and then he swept out of the room. Neville should have stopped brewing his potion then. He knew that brewing a potion with Snape out of the room was a bad idea. Snape was the one who always helped Neville clean up his failed potions, even though they weren't on very good terms. But still, Neville was too wrapped up in his assignment for once to notice or care.

"Alright..." Neville muttered to himself, quickly scanning his eyes over the instructions in his textbook. "Step 10... Or is that Step 13?" He found that he was slightly dizzy. He was getting nervous now, afraid that after all his hard work he was going to screw his potion up. What if it exploded in his face or something? Oh, that was crazy. Nobody could screw up a potion that badly, not even Neville. Oh, how wrong he was...

"Step 13, he finally decided, his vision a little fuzzy. "Now add a powered unicorn horn to your Immeldius Potion. Doing thus shall turn the potion a deeper shade of blue, and will help balance out the other ingredients added to make the potion stable." Neville eagerly picked up one of the unicorn horns off of the table and, with no carefulness at all, plopped it into his cauldron.

He observed his potion for a short moment, smiling smugly to himself as the potion started to turn a deeper shade of blue, just like the instructions said it would. But... was it supposed to bubble as well? No, the instructions didn't say anything about the potion bubbling. And now it was smoking... It wasn't supposed to smoke either!

Just then, a large crashing noise filled his ears. Well, he wasn't really sure if it sounded more like a crash or an explosion. But at that point, it really didn't matter. Gray smoke clouded Neville's vision as he was blown off of his feet. He flew across the room and hit the door to the supply closet, hard. As he slid down the wall, a pain so fierce hit him full force like a raging bull. He couldn't see, he couldn't think straight, and he was barely aware of his screaming classmates.

Neville had no idea what he had done wrong to his potion, but now he didn't care. He was only aware of the pain, the horrible pain that had started in his head and was now slowly climbing its way down his neck. Instead of seeing gray, Neville was now seeing red. Why was he seeing red? He wasn't angry. Neville slowly raised his hand to his eyes and was fully aware of the warm, sticky stuff left on his fingers. He was bleeding.

His classmates were no longer screaming in horror. Instead they were desperately screaming for help. Neville felt hands on his face... on his neck... everywhere. People had gathered around him, holding him, trying to stop the blood. Neville wanted to yell at them. Couldn't they tell how much he was already hurting? They were making the pain worse. But Neville was surprised and horrified to find that he couldn't speak. No matter how much he tried to raise his voice, his lungs weren't able to get enough air to speak. It's strange, Neville thought groggily to himself, how something so wonderful can easily go so wrong in only a matter of minutes.

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[severus]

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[neville]

The pain had intensified ten full in the last couple of minutes, and Neville was finding it hard to breathe. People were still prodding him, trying to make sure he didn't fall asleep. Oh, but Neville was going to have no problem staying awake. The pain... there was no way he could pass out while feeling like this. He was aware of people wiping blood from his eyes, and he was able to make out hazy figures floating in front of his face. Harry. Ron. Hermione, Dean, Seamus... They each were wearing the same expression on their face: horror. Complete and utter horror.

He felt strangely relieved. So, some people did care about him? It gave him a little strength as he lay there, bleeding... dying. Was he dying? Neville couldn't be sure. He didn't know what dying felt like. Wasn't there not supposed to be a lot of pain? Wasn't there supposed to be that light at the end of the tunnel thing? All he saw was red. And chaos. This couldn't be what dying felt like.

As the pain grew worse and the surprise from the explosion disappeared, Neville's confused mind began to race. Why him? Why did he have to mess up his potion? Why was he the one here, bleeding? It wasn't fair. He was a Gryffindor... wasn't he a good guy? What about the nasty Slytherins across the room? Why were they perfectly fine? It just... wasn't fair. And Snape... Neville was still able to wince at the thought, despite the current situation. Snape was going to have his head, he was sure of it.

And speak of the devil. Neville was aware of the door banging open with such force that it made all of the kids around Neville jump in fear. Only one man could slam a door like that. Only one furious man. Neville felt the vibrations of his heavy footsteps, and it was almost like physical pain rocketing through his throbbing skull. The kids that had been trying to stop the blood, his friends, quickly backed away and let Snape kneel beside Neville.

Neville felt Snape's ice cold hands resting on Neville's head. He hated to admit it, but through the red hot pain, the touch was soothing. Snape was being careful not to hurt his head. Unlike the students, who had been pressing too hard on the wound, Snape knew exactly what to do. It gave Neville a sense of safety, but soon his thoughts were interrupted by another flash of pain, worse than the rest. He cried out, desperately trying to scream, but his voice was barely a whisper. He wanted to thrash about, cry, do anything, but he couldn't even move. He was weak, and wounded, and helpless, and it made him mad.

With all of this pain and emotions running wild within Neville, he was barely aware that he was now being carried. The person carrying him, Snape, he guessed, was sprinting down the corridors as fast as he could go. Neville was surprised that Snape was doing this much for him, but before he could think anything else another wave hit him, and he was finally able to raise his voice above a whisper.

A few seconds later, he felt himself being placed upon a hospital bed. It was soft, and the sheets smelled of flowers, but it didn't help Neville break out of his haze. He was now feeling fevered, sweaty, and terrified. He wanted things to be normal. He wanted to be back in the common room, where most of his friends were probably heading right now. Why him? Why was he here? This wasn't fair. Why, why, why?

He felt somebody working on him now. Soft, careful hands. Pomfrey, it felt like. The more she worked, the more pain burned through him. He was just about to start screaming at the top of his lungs when she brought something cool to his lips... Instantly the pain started to ease. It was still there, a throbbing pain, but it now wasn't threatening to burn him alive. Now it was only inside of him, withering around, almost contempt.

The only sense that Neville could fully use right now was his hearing, and what he could tell was that Snape was still in the room, sitting down in a seat near Neville. Madam Pomfrey was snapping at him in an annoyed tone, and Neville was shocked to find himself slightly defensive of Snape. He brought me all the way over here, Neville argued silently to himself. Don't yell at him like that...

It was quiet for sometime, the only sound was Pomfrey working on Neville's head, neck, and chest. She was taking an awfully long time, and Neville was starting to dread how much damage there really was. Was it curable? Was she working at a lost cause? What if he lost too much blood? Then what? He'd certainly die, wouldn't he?

After awhile, Snape was also at his bedside, working with Madam Pomfrey. They both worked in silence, being careful of Neville's wounds. Finally, their fingers both fell still, signaling that either they were done or there was nothing more they could do.

Madam Pomfrey shooed Snape away after that, and Neville could hear a curtain being drawn around his hospital bed. From outside the curtain Pomfrey cast a spell. He was too out of it to feel embarrassed that the spell was controlling Neville's clothes. His blood stained clothes slipped off of Neville's body, and a hospital gown flew over to him in their place.

Neville wasn't sure how much time passed. He still felt awful, and he wouldn't dare open his eyes again, afraid he would feel blood clouding his vision. But when he heard a chair scoot up beside his bed, he couldn't help but wink one eye open. Professor Snape was staring at him. Neville opened his other eye, staring back. They stayed like this for a long time, but Neville didn't feel afraid, like he normally would. He was too groggy, confused, and tired to be scared.

Finally, Snape started to speak, and Neville strained his ears to listen. Ah, so that was what he did? He put the unicorn horn in too early? He thought back to that moment, when he thought Step 10 was Step 13. Neville cursed himself in his head.

Then, Snape mentioned a class. A special class... just for him. Neville's first instinct was to be terrified. What?! A class, alone, locked in a room with Professor Snape? He honestly almost fainted on the spot. But then a thought, a sudden light passed through him. No. Neville was done being so afraid. He had just almost died. Snape had basically saved his life. Sure, maybe Neville wasn't very fond of him, but terrified? What was the point? Would Snape ever really hurt Neville?

No. We would never do that. He was a teacher. Maybe a jerk of a teacher, yes, but a teacher all the same. So there was no reason to be afraid. And... had Snape ever tutored a student before? Neville didn't think so. This meant something. Snape cared. Sure, it was deep down under miles and miles of hate, but it was there. And it was strong.

Neville slowly lifted himself onto his elbows, gritting his teeth and trying to sit upright. He looked Snape in the eye, willing himself not to shake. He was firm, and he would deal with this without being afraid. But first, he had some things to say to Professor Snape.

"Thank you," was the first thing that came out of his mouth. He coughed violently, trying to clear his throat. "Professor, I've always been really scared of you," Neville confessed without hesitating. "And I know you were just doing what any teacher would do, but all the same, you didn't let me... die. So I'll do this class with you, and I'm going to work really hard in potions, and I know that no one, not even myself, will never get hurt like this because of me again." He was fiercely determined to keep talking, but the pain coursing through his head, neck, and chest forced him to lay back down onto his pillow.

(OOC: JGKELFERJG This is my favorite thread I have ever done with anybody. Seriously. <333)

[severus]

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