It had been like this all day. Every now and then, he would get a queasy feeling in his stomach, almost like he was gonna toss his cookies, and then it would fade away into nothing. Right now he was in potions, paired up with none other than his worst enemy. Potions was his least favorite subject, and right now especially he just wanted it to be over, so that he could go to the nurse, Madame Pomfrey, and get a potion to calm his stomach.

Snape, the potions teacher, was droning on and on about something or other, he wasn't really paying attention. Neither was anyone else in the class, not even the Slytherins. Of course, that was understandable, because the Slytherins got to see the lesson plan for the next day, so they already knew what potion they were going to brew, and every usefully hint associated with said potion. This was just a rumor, however, with no solid evidence to back it up, but still... the Gryffindors were very sure that it was true.

"... You may begin," Snape said, ending his talk.

Almost everyone immediately began to work. Hermione Granger, who was paired with Blaise Zambini, was practically elbowing her partner out of the way in order to do her potion. She was very intent on being able to say she did it all on her own, with no help from her Slytherin partner. The girl might go as far as to say that Zambini wasn't even offering to help, but no one would believe her, not really, even if all the Gryffindors would nod their heads in agreement and understanding when she told them about her lazy partner.

Ronald Weasely, who was paired up with Gregory Goyle, wasn't even trying to work on his potion. His attention was more focused on avoiding Goyle's feet, as they blundered about noisily on the hard dungeon floor. Although Ron was not a small boy, or in any way weak, he was no comparison to Goyle, who had more bulk than muscle or brain.

Having issues of his own, was Neville Longbottom. Paired with Vincent Crabbe, he was in constant danger of being hit with a flying newt's tail, or stray flobbergobbet tongue as Crabbe tried to shoot them into the cauldron from a rather far distance. Apparently he had gotten a hold of some muggle video tapes and had discovered the sport "basketball."

Harry Potter was still feeling sick to his stomach, and simple words could not describe the misery he was in. Not only was his stomach being uncooperative, but his partner in potions was being an ass as well. Whenever Harry requested an ingredient so that he could put it in the cauldron, or chop it up, his partner would throw said ingredient into his face. Harry had now learned that as soon as he asked for a component to the potion he should raise his hands up, so as to catch whatever came flying at him.

Suddenly, there was a huge explosion, and a plume of sparkling purple fumes rose high out of Neville's cauldron. Snape was at the scene of the disaster in mere seconds, making many students wonder if perhaps he had apparated. That was impossible, of course, due to the wards about the castle, but still... it made one wonder.

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!" Snape screamed into Neville's face.

"I- uh – Well my partner, uh, Crabbe, here, put in, the, uh, flobbergobbet at the, um, wrong step in the potion recipe and it... uh..."

Snape cut the poor soul off there, "Do NOT blame your partner, for I'm sure Mr. Crabbe had nothing to do with this at all! He is very gifted in potions, and I have had the honor of tutoring him over the summer so that his talent will expand to even greater lengths!" Snape, of course, had never tutored Crabbe, and knew full well that it probably had been Neville's partner that botched the potion. The potion's professor may be on the light side of the war, but he was most certainly not going to side with a Gryffindor on such a trivial matter. Therefore, he deducted twenty points from Gryffindor, and made Neville clean up the mess the exploding potion had made.

The fumes from Neville and Crabbe's potion-gone-wrong weren't helping Harry's stomach, if anything, the ache had gotten worse. For a while, Harry considered raising his hand and asking if he could go to the hospital wing, but knew that the answer would be 'no.' After all, it was Snape he was dealing with; the potions master had made it clear very early on that he hated Gryffindors, and he hated Harry Potter especially.

Soon Harry was feeling too sick to be in class, and decided to risk the imminent 'no,' and just ask Snape if he could go to see Madame Pomfrey, due to his rather obnoxious stomach.

"Mr. Potter, what is it? I assume you do not need help with your potion?" Snape raised an eyebrow in question. Harry shook his head.

"No sir, I was wondering if I could go to the hospital wing, because my stomach really has been acting up all day, and I feel unwell. I wouldn't want to mess up my potion just because of my upset stomach, right?" Harry tried to smile, but the would-be-smile dried up and died on his face, almost before it began.

"No," Snape answered simply, then turned on his heel, with a fantastic swish of his cape, and then walked back to the front of his class, where Blaise had finally started elbowing Hermione back, and the two had soon gotten into a screaming match. No great surprise that it would result in loss of points for the Gryffindor house.

Harry sighed and lowered his head. "Will you please pass the tunder root?"

The ingredient came sailing towards Harry's face. At that exact moment, of course, Harry's stomach decided to act up, and instead of his hands moving up to protect his face from the flying object, they went down to clutch his stomach.

His mouth opened slightly in a grimace of pain, and the perfectly aimed root landed partially in his open mouth.

"ECK!" Harry yelled, jumping up, momentarily forgetting about his stomach, and ripping the tunder root from his mouth.

The entire Slytherin house was laughing hysterically at his expense, and Harry had just enough time to register that he had swallowed some of the ingredient before his stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch, and his breakfast went soaring through the air, landing right on his partner's foot.

Harry looked up, only to have cool grey eyes look back down at him.

"Potter. That better not be your breakfast on my shoe."

I just threw up on Draco Malfoy... was the first thought that crossed Harry's mind.

Unfortunately, it was also the last for the next couple of hours, seeing as Draco, who was understandably angry, punched him in the face, effectively knocking him out.

A/N: Okay, so, this story is s'pose to be more funny than serious (it should get more funny... I hope so anyways. I dunno how good I am at writing humor...) So this I'm gonna try and make this story a bit more insane than my other ones.

Anyways, if you've read my other stories, you probably know that in my author's notes, I beg for peoeple to review... and I really do beg! I am writing this on my knees begging for you to review! I will love you forever and ever! I will worship the ground you walk on! I will be so happy that I will jump for joy and my entire high-school will come to know me as "that kid who jumps everywhere." I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER AND EVER IF YOU REVIEW! If I had one hundred dollars to give to everyone who reviewed I would do it! Unfortunately I am not that rich. If I were, I probably wouldn't be writing these stories, I would be driving around in a pretty car, or swimming in an awesome pool. But I am not rich, and I don'thave one hundred dollars to give everyone who reviews. I will however love you (like I've said many times before!) So pretty pretty please review!