The Huge Magical Snake Problem

Hogsmeade

Previously...

" Harry... this is incredibly realistic. When did you start drawing?" she said, looking up curiously.

He squirmed, slightly uncomfortable. "Erm... a few days ago," he answered.

The regal witch's eyes widened. "Really? From the quality of this work, I would have said at least a year or two." She seemed to notice Harry's discomfort, and handed the paper back to him.

" Thanks," he murmured.

HPHPHPHPHPHP

Severus leaned back, breathing out slowly. He had been brewing an intricate potion that may or may not buy the headmaster more time. He had used the brewing equipment and supplies that were in his classroom. They were closer to the infirmary than the ones in his quarters, and he also didn't want to waste time answering the questions he'd be bombarded with.

He had made the most complicated curse repelling potion he knew of - and that was saying something. It had taken him hours to complete, since lunchtime, and it was nine in the evening. Remus Lupin hadn't divulged any information about what in Merlin's name they had been doing, but Severus had a hunch.

He wondered if Harry had gotten one of the house elves to send him and his company dinner. Narcissa, at least, would have had the sense to do that. Severus chuckled darkly when he thought of Harry's reaction to the witch sashaying her way into his quarters. She had asked if she could spend some time with the young man, and Severus had gladly given her the password, out of spiteful humour.

Severus summoned a ladle out from one of the cabinets into his waiting palm. He steadily poured the potion into bottles for many dosages. The headmaster would have to take this once a day, to help his mind battle the curse for a bit longer. (A/N: Do you notice how Severus never calls Albus by his first or last name? Think about that...)

If his prediction was correct, the headmaster would last for about a year. Maybe two, if he's lucky. Severus hoped that the Dark Lord would be defeated by then, but he knew that was a desperate hope.

Corking the last bottle, he finally let himself relax. There was no reason to worry about the far future just yet. It would be best for himself and everyone else if he lived in the moment.

And, with his custody of Harry, it might just be worth it.

HPHPHPHPHPHP

Lucius Malfoy grasped his left arm in a vice grip, gritting his teeth. He was in the vacant lounge of his and his family's quarters, sitting tensely on the couch. His wife was down in the dungeons supervising the Boy-Who-Lived, claiming that the only way they would be truly be accepted into the Light side was to make ties with people. Draco was down in the common room, preferring to stay in the comforting familiarity of Slytherin during the day. Lucius didn't blame him.

The throbbing pain of the Mark on his forearm had been getting worse and worse, but it wasn't unbearable. The medium-grade pain-relieving potion he had been taking for the last few days had slowly stopped being effective. He didn't want to be a bother to Severus or Poppy Pomfrey, since they already had so much on their plate. Between housing the Golden Boy and brewing for a deathly ill headmaster, the potions master obviously didn't have time to spare. Poppy, on the other hand, had to be constantly on call for both Dumbledore and Potter.

So, everything considered, his minute pain wasn't that important. He could take whatever the Dark Lord threw at him, by himself. Maybe pride had a lot to do with this mindset, but he didn't care. He'd be able to stomach the ache, as long as it didn't get any more severe. But, the way things seemed to be going, there wasn't much chance for that.