Disclaimer: If I were J.K. Rowling, I would have written this into HBP. And I'm sure it would be a whole lot better, too.
Chapter One- Voldemort Attacks
Harry woke up one morning in early October, his scar faintly throbbing. Rubbing it with one hand, he sat up slowly. Though it looked like he could catch another hour and a half or so's worth of slumber, he knew there was no point in trying. Reluctantly, he dressed and went down to the common room to wait for Ron and Hermione. He slumped into one of the cushy armchairs by the dark fireplace and sighed.
His bloody scar had pounded incessantly throughout the summer and into the fall. He just hoped that today he wouldn't have another vision. They had been rather frequent lately. Mainly, they consisted of Voldemort punishing his pathetic lackeys for either failing to obtain more information about that blasted prophecy or for not being able to find more recruits, but in the past few months Voldemort himself had been working vigorously to get inside his mind. However, his Occlumency skills had improved greatly, with intense lessons over the summer with Dumbledore, Snape (to their mutual distaste), and the surprisingly grandmotherly Emmeline Vance. While his relationship with Dumbledore was relatively the same as usual, lessons with Snape (which were also getting more and more common due to Dumbledore's busy schedule) were cold and straight to the point. Snape just seemed to want the lesson to be over as soon as possible. The same went for Potions class, which was fine with Harry.
Finally, Hermione trudged down the girls' staircase, her usual book-filled bag in tow, and minutes later Ron came down, yawning widely. The trio made their way to the Great Hall silently, but as Harry was putting kippers on his plate, Hermione asked, with concern etched on her face, "Did you sleep any better last night?"
"Of course not," Harry replied bitterly. He hadn't had a decent night's sleep that wasn't induced by a Dreamless Sleep potion in months. Madam Pomfrey didn't want to risk his becoming addicted to the powerful potion, though Harry had entertained many thoughts that involved his stealing down to the Hospital Wing in his Invisibility Cloak and nicking a few bottles of what he so desperately wanted.
"Harry," Hermione began, then hesitated. "You really ought to talk to Madam Pomfrey. There has to be another sleeping potion out there... or maybe she could ask Professor Snape to make you one."
Ron snorted. "Right, and Snape'll do that the day he regrets the way he's treated us, too."
"Well, he did make the Wolfsbane for Lupin - "
"Yeah, but under Dumbledore's orders," Harry interjected before an argument could snowball. "Dumbledore might do that again for me, but I'd just as soon not take anything Snape makes... maybe Muggle sleeping pills would work?"
he mused thoughtfully.
"Well," Hermione replied as owls began to swoop among the students, "in any case, you need to talk to someone."
She then immersed herself in the front page of the Daily Prophet, which had just been dropped onto her plate of bacon.
"Yeah," Harry said vaguely, rubbing his prickling scar and staring distastefully at the bit of food on his plate. His stomach twisted as he watched Ron shovel a mountain of pancakes into his mouth.
Half an hour later they found themselves headed toward their first classes. Ron departed for the Gryffindor common room for his free period while Harry and Hermione continued down to the dungeons for Potions.
Harry and Hermione were the only two Gryffindors in N.E.W.T.-level Potions now. The rest of the class consisted of Terry Boot and a few of his fellow Ravenclaws, Susan Bones, the lone Hufflepuff, and Draco Malfoy, along with about half a dozen more Slytherins. Harry was quite sure that most of them, if not all, had slid into the class on Snape's favoritism.
"Hey, Potter." Malfoy whispered as they slid into their usual seats toward the back, “I’d watch your back today if I were you, I sure would hate to see you in the hospital wing yet again.”
"I’m touched. But, you know, I might be a little more scared if you hadn't threatened me with the exact same thing the other day," Harry retorted. "Nothing happened then, either."
Malfoy flushed and opened his mouth, but at that moment Snape swept into the room. He settled for a truly malevolent glare that would have unnerved Harry if he hadn't already been exposed to it by both Uncle Vernon and Snape far too many times. He also had way too much on his mind to worry about that bloody git.
Harry's scar was definitely feeling worse. He set his jaw, hoping that Voldemort was just punishing a bumbling Death Eater. If it got much worse, he'd have to go get a painkiller. I bet Snape won’t be too pleased with that, he thought idly.
The students fell silent as Snape stood at his desk, clearly waiting for the Slytherins’ chatter to subside. Ignoring the glares he received for this obvious display of favoritism, he flicked his wand, making a list of ingredients appear on the blackboard. “Today you will attempt to make the Pain Soothing Elixir, a difficult potion that will require your complete concentration… I doubt that many of you will manage it.” Scanning the class with a smirk, he continued. “When you finish and bottle your sample, be sure to leave your remaining potion in your cauldron, so that I can collect any drinkable concoctions. Madam Pomfrey has notified me that she is running low on pain potions; apparently someone has been depleting her stores.” He fixed his cold, black eyes on Harry, smirking. Hot, bubbling anger simmered in the pit of Harry’s stomach has he glared at Snape with as much hatred as he could muster. Before he could retort, Hermione laid a placating hand on his arm. “It’s not worth it,” she whispered. Harry nodded tiredly and rubbed his painful forehead.
As the class began to prepare their ingredients, a sharp, burning pain began shooting up his scar, momentarily knocking his equilibrium off balance. He gritted his teeth and steadied himself on the edge of the table.
"Harry, what's wrong? Is it your scar?" Hermione whispered, her eyes wide and filled with concern.
Clenching his teeth even harder as the burning sensation intensified, he nodded. This could not be happening again, especially here. The last time this had happened he was in the middle of Quidditch practice, the day Azkaban was broken into. Luckily, Katie Bell and Hermione, who had been watching in the stands, knew their Cushioning Charms.
"Er...Professor?" Susan Bones asked timidly, pointing toward Harry’s table.
Snape looked up from the Ravenclaw girl he was critiquing, and his eyes narrowed as he took in Harry's face, twisted in pain now, and both hands gripping the table as if his tight hold would bring him relief. “Close your mind, Potter!” he called as he swiftly crossed the room.
But as he neared the Gryffindors’ table, Harry's knees buckled and he screamed, his hands flying to his face. Blood was visible between his fingers; his scar had burst. Harry tried his hardest to keep up his Occlumency barriers in his mind, but another wave of terrible pain overrode all coherent thought.
Waves of burning pain spread from his scar and wracked his entire body. His body thrashed and convulsed wildly as Hermione and Snape dropped to their knees, trying to grab hold of him. As the class stared, shocked, at the scene before them, Hermione grabbed Harry's head and forced it onto her lap, trying to keep him from hurting himself even more, while Snape grabbed his flailing arms and growled, “Are you just going to stand there like the insufferable idiots you are?”
The class jumped. Susan Bones and Terry Boot hurried over, followed by two other Ravenclaw boys. They grabbed his legs and arms while Snape kept one hand on Harry's torso, trying to keep him down. He cursed under his breath, whipped out his wand and began muttering spells. Giving up on that, he slapped Harry's face and shook him by the shoulders. Finally, he sat up and barked, "Reid! Go get Madam Pomfrey! Malfoy, get the Headmaster!" Malfoy nodded, turning his expression of shock blank as he hurried after the Reid girl.
By the time Pomfrey and Dumbledore, Reid and Malfoy at their heels, rushed through the door, Hermione was covered in blood and Susan Bones was actually sitting on Harry's legs, trying her best to keep him still. Harry was having difficulty drawing breath, as though there was something blocking his lungs. They knelt down, and Madam Pomfrey began to furiously mutter spells while Dumbledore checked Harry's eyes. After several tense minutes, Harry went limp.
Dumbledore stood up, conjured a stretcher, and levitated Harry to the hospital wing. He was followed by a worried-looking Madam Pomfrey and a pale Hermione, who was lugging hers and Harry's bags, leaving a shocked Snape with his equally shocked class.
Harry ached. It felt like he had been subjected to the Cruciatus Curse for days. Wearily he opened his aching eyes. The blurry outlines of Ron and Hermione were sitting on the right side of his bed, holding hands. Inwardly he smirked. Ron had been trying to work up the courage to hold Hermione's hand for the past month. Through the haze of pain he felt Hermione's other hand in his own, and wide straps appeared to be holding him to the bed. Every few seconds an arm or a leg would spasm sharply, sending a knife-sharp bolt of pain through his body. As more pain began to reach his senses, he closed his eyes and drifted off, not even noticing the dark shape of Professor Snape, who was watching him with a very strange look indeed on his pale face.
It Had to Happen in Snape's Class by nerd2006
Chapter Notes: This chapter has been rewritten for the very last time! Yay!