Title: Truth

Author: thisveryinstant (thisveryinstant @ yahoo.com)

Fandom: Harry Potter

Rating: R

Warnings: This is full of OotP spoilers. And Harry is slightly underage (16).

Pairing: HP/SS

Author's Notes: Thanks to fabulous beta Dementordelta for catching my goofy mistakes and making this a much more powerful piece of writing. All remaining mistakes are my own. Thanks to Latin guru Fabula Rasa for "semiveritaserum."

Summary: Harry's 6th year potions class brews a weak truth serum. Harry gets high. Snape loses it. Mayhem ensues.

Disclaimer: They belong to Rowling, not to me--I'm only taking them out to play. Please don't sue!


Severus Snape swept to the front of the room and pivoted neatly on his heels to face the sixth-year Gryffindors and Slytherins. His smile was particularly smug. Harry's heart sank further, if that was possible. Snape wasn't--he couldn't--could he?

"We will need a test subject," Snape said slowly, as if savoring the taste and texture of each word.

Apparently, he could.

The Potions master's eyes moved lazily around the room. The entire class stared down at their shoes.

Harry had been dreading this since the first day of the semester, when he saw "Truth Serums: Practical" on the NEWT Potions syllabus. He had hoped that the sinking feeling in his gut was wrong, that there was a limit to what Snape could do to students.

Yeah, right.

"Potter." Snape's black eyes glittered as they settled on Harry, and a feral grin spread across the sallow face. "Come up to the front of the classroom."

A horrible, wrenching inside-out feeling in his gut, like the pull of a port-key. What he would give for a port-key right now!

He glanced at his friends. Ron looked stricken. Hermione looked livid. Parvati was staring fixedly at a spot on her desk. Harry met Seamus' eyes, and Seamus shrugged.

"Now, Potter!"

Harry imagined staying in his seat, refusing to move. Or leaving the classroom and going straight to the headmaster! Better yet, whipping out his wand and casting the Cruciatus curse on Snape, watching that grin split into a howl as Snape twisted and writhed on the dungeon floor--


Harry raised his eyes to meet Snape's, and glared. He did not blink.

I am not afraid of you, he thought. He stood up slowly, without breaking eye contact, and marched toward the front of the classroom.

Snape was leaning forward against his desk, his long fingers spread on the glossy surface, his back eyes glittering into Harry's from behind a veil of greasy hair.

I am not afraid of you, Harry thought fiercely. He moved toward the front of the room, cutting through the tense air with long strides, and stopped in front of the Potions master's desk. Snape gestured to a chair facing the class, and Harry sat in it, glaring stubbornly at the wall behind his classmates' heads.

"Ms. Granger, bring a sample of your potion to Mr. Potter."

"But--" Hermione's voice.

"Two points from Gryffindor," Snape cut her off smoothly.

He heard Hermione walking toward the front of the classroom. Drop the vial, he entreated silently, Just let it fall, let it smash. Hermione pressed the vial into his hand, murmuring apologetically. He refused to look at her.

"Well, Potter, drink up, we haven't got all day!"

Harry turned slowly to glare at Snape.

I will get you for this, he thought, wishing he could burn a hole through the other man's head with his eyes. Snape smirked and cocked one eyebrow. Harry could hear whispers from both sides of the room, and Draco Malfoy's unmistakable chuckle.

He uncorked Hermione's potion and drank it down.