Liar, Liar

8: Detention

The morning started as it always did, with Riss and I getting ready for breakfast. I chose to wear my white platform converse with black tights and a grey pleated skirt under my robes, with the required white blouse. Typical student attire. Riss wore something similar, yet opted for flats.

Riss expressed her excitement once again throughout breakfast. The day moved slowly, and I processed nothing that was happening around me. I think there's something really wrong with me. Why am I thinking about Professor Snape? He's all I can think about, and it drives me insane. I try to silence my thoughts, I try to push them away. I look for him everywhere. My eyes graze his at every meal, I am a flustered mess throughout my first two classes, and I can't even pay attention to Riss talking about the stupid dance.

This was crazy, it was insane. I was in the middle of Applicable Potions, silently reading my textbook and trying to scribble some notes. He sat at his desk, like always. He hadn't uttered a single word to me all day, and I allowed my mind to drift off, once again, to the previous hour.

Here's what had happened: nothing. He had lectured the class, split us off into teams, and had us create a calming draught. Ravenclaws and Gryffindors were paired with another, and I had some odd seventh year named Wesley as my partner. He was nice, but sucked at potions. By the end of class, we hadn't completed the potion, but after a swift look around us, I noticed that nobody had. At least, not correctly. Lacey's had been spitting beads of glass, and the pair by Wesley and I had managed to somehow make their potion completely disappear.

The whole class was a disaster, and Snape had let us go with a ten inches of parchment written on the effects of the calming draught due tomorrow. Which, somehow, I'd have to fit in after detention tonight. The same detention that was not my fault whatsoever. I sighed audibly.

----detention

Snape set his book down with a thud. My head snapped up, my eyes widening. I don't know why I had sighed out loud, and my face started to turn redder and redder in contrast to his darkening eyes.

He stood up swiftly. "If my class is so... boring, why do you even consider a career in potions, Miss Agoria?"

"I'm sorry, Sir. My mind drifted off. I won't let it happen again."

He remained standing. "Since you can't tell me the simple effects of an incorrectly brewed Veritaserum potion, perhaps you can brew one correctly."

I swallowed. "I think I can tell you the effects, Sir. I read about them last night, I can-"

"Now," he cut me off. "You will brew the potion now."

I gulped, and it was probably so loud that he had heard it. "I- I'm not sure if I can."

"If done incorrectly, you will try it and find out exactly what the effects are of brewing it incorrectly," he smirked. He walked back to his desk, looking smug after seeing the shock on my face.

He sat, elbows on his desk, his hands clasped in front of him. "What are you waiting for?"

I scurried to the back of the room, grabbing a heavy cauldron, which I hoisted onto my desk. I ran back to look for what I needed. No textbook had been provided, which I'm sure was intentional. There was no way I was about to ask for one, either. Who knew what he'd say about that.

I bit my lip hard, nearly drawing blood. Jobbernowl feathers for sure, I remembered my textbook saying something about how they were used in all truth serums. Two roots as well, one black and brown. I grabbed two from the back. Root of squashburry and root of... what was the other one called?

I grabbed what I thought made sense. Shit, I silently cursed. I hadn't memorized this potion. I should have, I silently cursed at myself again. I stole a glance back at Snape. His eyes bore into mine. He was foreword over his desk, analyzing my movements and my choices. I turned back to the supply shelves, my face reddening.

My hands started to shake as I realized I couldn't remember any of the other ingredients. I simply had to guess. I tried to not make this fact known to Snape, although he most certainly knew.

I heard a chuckle, and I whipped around. The smug look was still there on his face. I felt the blood rush to y face when I realized he had probably heard me think that.

I brought my supplied back to my desk, and the harder part began. The order and quantities of each ingredient were unknown to me. I bit the inside of my cheek. It was as if he wanted me to fail, wanted to teach me a lesson. I gulped, and blindly began to guess how much of each ingredient went in. I diced the root of squashburry. The next root was slightly more difficult. It was black and soft in texture, yet my knife wouldn't go through it. I took the root in my hands, examining it. I tried again, forcing my knife down on it, stabbing it from different angles.

The knife refused to penetrate the root, causing me to let out a sigh of exasperation. When I took the root into my hands again, I rubbed it gently, and it fell apart like putty in my hands. I gasped. How as that possible? As I massaged the root, it turned to dust, and I poured the flakes into my cauldron. Next, the feathers. Those were easy, I pulled the soft tendrils off of the quill, allowing them to fall into the cauldron, which I gave a few stirs. Snape sat back in his chair, not taking his eyes off of my work in progress.

I added the rest of the ingredients in, stirring occasionally. The potion turned clear, as Veritaserum was supposed to look. After an hour of sweating over the cauldron, I looked up to Snape, my hair sticking to the sides of my face. I knew I looked like garbage.

Silently, he rose and walked to me. I tried to stand straight and not cower in fear, which was fairly hard. He was quiet for a few moments.

"Describe the elements of Veritaserum that it is identifiable by," he broke the silence.

This, I knew. "It's clear appearance, absolute lack of scent, and a density lighter than water."

He cocked his head to the side. "Good," he said.

Praise from Snape?

He approached my cauldron, scooping a few drops of my potion into a small bottle. He stared at it intently before turning his gaze back to me.

"Now how will we know if it's been correctly brewed?" He cocked his eyebrow at me.

"Well," I started, confused. "It matches all of the criteria-"

"Taste it."

My mouth dropped. "But- what if it's incorrect?" I stammered. "I'm not saying it is, because it clearly matches the criteria, and I am confident in my potion-making abilities, but I didn't have a textbook to read from-" I rambled on.

Snape grabbed my chin with his hand. His dark eyes pierced mine. They looked alive as if they were beings themselves as he stared into my eyes.

I was immobile. My breath stopped in my throat as I watched him. He flicked the stopper off of the bottle with his thumb, his hand still clutching my chin. My heart rate sped up. The room seemed to get darker, as his lips parted.

"You will try it."

I gulped. I didn't have a choice. My mind drifted to the feeling of his fingers on my skin, roughly yet gently all at once, holding me tight, less than inches away from my lips. Poised above me, standing assertively. As if I was a puppet, controlled by a force other than my own will, my mouth opened. I stared up at him. Slowly, as if the world was simply just inching by, time stopping, (was there a potion for that?) Snape lowered the bottle to my lips.

The cold rim rested against my lower lip. His hand tilted, and I felt the clear liquid trickle down my throat. No odd sensation followed the potion as it made its way into my stomach. It was as tasteless as it was odorless. If I hadn't known what I had just brewed, I would think I was drinking water.

Snape set the now-empty bottle down. His hand didn't move, as his eyes burned into me. He tilted my head back, as if to make sure I had gotten every drop down.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Snape wrenched his hand off of my jaw, my head turning from the force.

"Now, let's see if it works," he said, resting his hand on my desk, leaning toward me. "What keeps you so distracted during my classes?"