Of Herbs Most Curious

A Harry Potter One-Shot

Hogwarts Castle, Saturday, 2:04 AM

"Come now, young Longbottom, you cannot evade me forever. If you stop running and accept your punishment like a man, I may decrease your detention time to a mere two months instead of three."

"N…Never! I must complete this mission…at all costs!"

It was two o' clock on Saturday morning, and Professor Severus Snape was spending much-needed beauty sleep time chasing Neville Longbottom, of all people, around Hogwarts castle. The boy had been caught sneaking about after hours, carrying a couple kilograms of some mysterious plant inside of plastic sandwich baggies. It was just his bad luck that Snape happened to be on night patrol at the time. He was far harder to escape from than the likes of Filch.

The slightly chubby boy huffed and wheezed as he ran, with Gryffindor tower as his ultimate destination. Considering that Snape had first caught him at the greenhouses, it was rather impressing that Neville had managed to run as far as he had.

Then again, Snape wasn't really trying to apprehend him as hard as perhaps he could have. Although he was outwardly strict, the Potions Master did get some enjoyment out of striking such harmless fear into the boy who so often caused him grief in class.

Using Mobilicorpus on himself, Snape levitated a meter above the floor, his flowing cape making him appear like a particularly large bat. "Longbottom…" he intoned dangerously, "end this ridiculous game so that we may both get some sleep."

"No! My friends are counting on me to get this plant to the common room! I won't let them down! Expellimellius!" In his desperate haste, Neville misspoke the incantation to Expelliarmus, the disarming spell. Instead, a different sort of magic was cast without any intention on Neville's part.

A torrent of blue flames blazed from the tip of Neville's wand, raging completely beyond his control. Snape halted, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly slack-jawed. Instantly, he shifted from "bored potions master mode" to "badass dark wizard mode" and began uttering countercurses.

"How did this boy learn such powerful dark magic? I didn't learn Expellimellius until I was nearly a year into the Dark Lord's service. This must be Potter's fault!" As usual, Snape immediately began to blame Harry Potter for every occurrence he could not immediately explain otherwise.

Whimpering and sweating profusely, Neville dropped the plants in his hands and scampered back to the safety of the Gryffindor common room while Snape was occupied. It took a few minutes, but the black-haired cursemaster eventually managed to get the dark blue flames under control.

Flipping his luxurious hair over his shoulder, Snape saw that Neville left his contraband on the floor. Leaning down, Snape finally got a good look at what the boy was carrying. The plant matter was mashed into a rather ugly lump, and it had an odd purple coloration. It was definitely different than the usual random magical plants the boy was always running around with.

"I can't identify this particular herb at all…I should probably take this to Professor Sprout or Dumbledore." The professor said aloud, rather curious about the situation. As a potions master, he was required to have extensive knowledge of magical plants, herbs, and spices. That there was a plant he could not recognize on sight was certainly an unusual happening. His already-high levels of paranoia were elevated further by this new development.

Since Dumbledore's office was closer than Sprout's, Snape decided to head there with the plant. He had a strange feeling that the headmaster would be up and about anyhow.

Sure enough, Dumbledore was indeed awake, despite the lateness of the hour. Instead of his usual robes, the headmaster was wearing light blue footie pajamas with a matching nightcap. His long silver hair and beard were tied into ponytails, something that distinctly amused Snape for some reason. The headmaster appeared to writing a letter behind his desk, although Snape did not see to whom it was addressed.

"Ah, good evening Severus. I trust that your patrol went well?" Dumbledore greeted cheerfully as his hand worked away on writing.

"For the most part, Professor. However, I saw Longbottom in the corridors after curfew. He was carrying a strange plant with him." Snape explained with his usual superciliousness.

"Oh, I'm sure he was. Mr. Longbottom is quite fascinated with Herbology. Professor Sprout praises his diligence in the greenhouses." Dumbledore replied blithely. "If only he showed such talent in potions…" Snape grumbled.

"We all have our talents and shortcomings, Severus. Personally, I've never been very skilled at checkers."

"What are you doing up at this hour anyways?" Snape asked, realizing that this current avenue of conversation was going nowhere.

"I watched that one muggle horror film…Poltergeist, I believe it was called? I thought it was rather silly when I was watching it, but now I find myself opposed to the idea of going to sleep." Dumbledore explained, an undercurrent of terror in his voice.

Snape was bewildered, although he himself was familiar with the film. "Sir, how could you have possibly watched Poltergeist in Hogwarts? You know muggle technology can't function on these grounds."

"I'm Albus Dumbledore. Since when have the rules applied to me?"

Snape was forced to concede this point. Grumbling, he returned to the matter at hand. "Longbottom had a plant I didn't recognize. Professor Sprout is asleep at the moment, so I hoped you would be able to tell me what it is." Snape procured the plastic sandwich bags from his robe pocket.

To his great surprise, Dumbledore's eyes were alight with recognition, and a bit of humor as well. "Well of course that was what Mr. Longbottom was carrying! And I assume he was heading back to Gryffindor tower with this?" He asked Snape.

"Yes, he was heading in that direction…" Snape responded, not sure what Dumbledore was planning to do.

"I imagine you wouldn't be too familiar with this particular species, Severus- you're far too straight-laced." Although Snape bristled at Dumbledore's comment, he remained silent and waited for him to elaborate.

"Cannabis sativa- a highly useful plant often found in India, among other places and used as a painkiller. Although it was used often for medicinal purposes in the past, nowadays it is primarily used for its relaxing and…psychedelic effects." Dumbledore explained.

"Oh you can't be serious." Snape, who was a young child in the 1960's, was now remembering seeing footage from Woodstock on the television, and wondering how the people on the screen seemed so elated from smoking what seemed to be tobacco. Now, he knew better.

"And how exactly do you know so much about this?" Snape asked, despite the fact that he already had inklings about the answer. Suddenly, Dumbledore's expression became very grave.

"Yes, Severus, I blaze up from time to time. I have a very stressful job, you know. The Weasley's have been supplying me for nearly four generations. I understand that's how young Fred and George have been raising money on the side to fund the startup of their joke shop." The headmaster stage-whispered in confidence.

"Ah, so that's why their house always smells weird. Come to think of it, that explains where Longbottom got that much weed. There's no way he could have grown that in the greenhouses without Sprout noticing." Snape deduced.

"Indeed- even if he did, it would not be nearly as strong. The Weasley's grow the finest purple kush in Scotland, everyone knows this to be true." Dumbledore nodded.

"And Molly is fine with this? She'll scream at Arthur if he forgets to take his shoes off in the house, so I doubt she would approve of a drug ring in her own backyard." Snape said perceptively, cocking an eyebrow.

"Do you honestly think Arthur can support seven kids and a stay-at-home wife on a government job? Merlin have mercy!" Dumbledore shook his head. "But I digress." He leaned behind his desk and took out a purple bong patterned with stars. Using nonverbal magic, he filled the beaker with clear water. "Come, Severus. You really ought to expand your horizons."

"Professor, the last time you told me to expand my horizons, we ended up in a Soviet prison."

"Oh, get over it. I swear, I'm never going to live that one down. That was like seven years ago anyways."

Snape frowned. "This is absolute and utter foolishness. However, it will be interesting to see whether I can maintain my Occlumency shields while under the influence of such a substance…" Snape had a compulsive need to rationalize everything he did; he rarely did anything purely for its own sake, and especially not for pleasure.

Letting out a sigh, he grumbled, "Very well…"

7:15 AM

Snape and Dumbledore were each sprawled on the floor of Dumbledore's office, laughing their respective asses off at a story Dumbledore was telling.

"So then, I threw the pirates off the boat and escaped with the Duchess! I believe I was about 22 when it happened." Dumbledore finished, chuckling. Snape howled with laughter, eventually calming down enough to take another drag from his lit joint.

"Holy shit, professor, that's crazy!" Snape could not remember the last time he had felt so giddy. Everything seemed hilarious for some reason, and he was unexplainably hungry. Dumbledore ordered up a pizza from the kitchens, and he and Snape watched muggle films for the next five hours. Snape introduced the headmaster to the wonders of Star Wars and Caddyshack, and Dumbledore was inordinately amazed by them, most likely due to the fact that he was baked out of his mind.

After breakfast, the two unlikely buddies found their vibe session interrupted by Professor Minerva McGonagall, who strode into the office after saying the password "Snickers" to the reluctant guard statue.

"Albus! Severus! Just what do you think you're doing! I didn't see either of you at breakfast! And why does it smell so bad in here!?" She screeched.

"Minerva, just chill out, dude! Here, have some pizza." Snape lobbed a piece of pizza across the room. Minerva stopped the errant flatbread in midair with magic, her expression an odd mixture of amusement and severity.

"Staff meetings are supposed to be at nine, just so you know. You two need to clean yourselves up and get ready for them." She not-so-gently reminded them.

"Listen Minerva, we take our responsibilities to this company extremely seriously. We'll be ready for the meetings. Brew some coffee for me, will you?" Albus groaned from the floor.

"First of all, this is a school, not a company. Second of all…sure, I'll make some coffee. Just don't be late!" She huffed before sweeping out of the room.

Snape chuckled after her. "Hey man, do you think Minerva used to be really hot? Do you ever get that vibe?"

Dumbledore suddenly stopped laughing. "Bro, I was already like 50 when she was born, so don't even ask me that question. Seriously, like what the fuck? Also I'm gay."

Snape's eyes widened in shock. "No shit? I didn't know that."

Dumbledore laughed bitterly. "Well, it's not really relevant at this point anyhow. I am nearing the big 120 after all, it's not like I'm going on any dating sites."

After a lengthy pause, Snape found the courage to ask, "So…what would you rate me out of 10?"

Dumbledore laughed again. "No, Severus. Now then, let's go down to those staff meetings."

"Sorry for imposing, professor. I was merely curious."

"No problem, man, I get it. Anyways, I should probably feel bad abut taking all of Longbottom's kush, but hey, he should've been sneakier. That is one matter, I'm afraid, where the house of Slytherin will always be superior. Maybe I'll just give Gryffindor the house cup again this year to make up for it." Dumbeldore shrugged as he brushed the pizza crust off of his robes and made his way to the door.

"For once, I don't mind your favoritism, headmaster." Snape said while yawning. The two drowsy teachers ambled down to the staffroom, their eyes redder than Voldemort's.

A/N

In honor of the day, I thought I'd write this silly one-shot. I hope you all got some amusement out of it. Snape needed to chill out anyways, although I imagine the Gryffindors will be dismayed to learn that Neville lost nearly ten galleons of weed. Happy 4/20, boys.