Title: The Quandary's Hope

Author: Intrepid Aarcher

Summary: Harry's Potions skills have been well hidden until an accident occurs involving a deadly concoction. Malfoy has noticed not all seems well with his arch-nemesis, but why does he care? And where does a surly Potions master fit into the equation? HPDM

Disclaimer: I'm not making any money out of this foray into the world of fan fiction. I just like to borrow the characters.

Warnings: eventual Harry/Draco slash. So that's male/male duh. A bit of abuse here and there, and some pretty dark themes.

"Parseltongue"

"normal speech"

Thoughts

CHAPTER NINE

Collision Course

Snape walked through his classroom and set Harry down on the couch in his sitting room before taking the chair opposite. He breathed out heavily through his nose and fixed him with a stern stare.

"I'd like to know the reason why I'm turning a blind eye to the unconscious Slytherin lying outside."

Harry struggled to form sentences as he regained his breath. "Zabini… Blaise Zabini was at my house this summer. He… aided Dudley and his gang when they attacked me. He saw the potion briefly, but wasn't there when it was forced down my throat. I'm positive he knows nothing of its nature."

Snape's face paled.

"What did he want from you? Did he take anything, Potter?" He snapped.

"I… I don't know. If he did, it was when I was unconscious… blood maybe?" Harry bit his lip.

The Potions Master rubbed his face. "I have had no instruction from the Dark Lord. Either it's of little consequence, or my position has been compromised. Well there's not much we can do about it at present, although I will endeavour to find out more."

He stood and exited the room, returning with several glass beakers containing varying shades of green sludge. He handed one to Harry, who had recovered enough to sit up, and ordered him to drink it.

Sniffing tentatively, he screwed up his face and counted to three before gulping it down.

"Eugh! I hope that was necessary!" He coughed.

"You are weak, and as such, you are vulnerable. These will provide you with sufficient nutrient supplements in fluid form. They contain a variety of vegetables and fruits extremely potent in restorative and energy properties. I have devised different combinations for you to take at intervals throughout the day. For example, you will take this one-" he indicated a vial, "in the morning as it has a high energy content, though with a low glycemic index so you will not burn your reserves too quickly, this one"…

Harry had zoned out by this stage and was only interested in dislodging the last remnants of what felt like mulch from his throat. After one particularly loud hack he looked up to find the professor glaring at him.

"Do you mind?" Snape said as he rolled his eyes. "If you might give me a precious moment of your time, Mr. Potter, this part's simple.

"I will make them all down here in the dungeons, and using spells on a similar strand to what the house elves use, transfer them to one vessel which you will carry."

He went to one of his bookshelves and pressed a spring loaded panel which in turn revealed a hidden drawer. Shuffling around, he pulled out an ornate silver hip-flask. He handed it back to the Gryffindor, sullenly muttering something about Moody and good ideas.

"The flask will vibrate when it is time to take the particular mixture that resides within. No don't make faces, you'd better get used to the taste as there will be at least one dose to take per hour. Your body does not store the goodness these fluids provide, rather it uses what it can and then passes it through. As your body is constantly undergoing a huge amount of harm from the poison and antidote, you require an ongoing means of replenishment."

Harry nodded and examined his flask. Trust Snape to have one with a snake motif. It was a disk shape with a finely engraved snake running around the edge. The head posed as a lid, and when he pressed down just behind the emerald encrusted eyes, the head raised up, drawing fangs out of two tiny grooves in the silver as well as revealing the opening. He would have to be careful he didn't pierce himself every time he drank from it. Despite this, Harry loved it and relished the perfect weight it had as it sat in his palm. He looked up at his professor and smiled at him appreciatively.

Snape frowned for a moment looking at the flask before drawing his wand and transfiguring a dull leather case for it to slide into.

"It is a bit precocious isn't it? It was my grandfather's. Keep it in there, it'll be a little bit more inconspicuous than shining silver that way." He began to shift furniture to create a space on the rug.

"Now, I trust you have recovered enough to move on to our next activity." At Harry's groan, the man's mouth twisted into a cruel smirk. "Don't worry; we will begin slowly in order to re-build your strength. Now, remove your outer robe, Pilates require unrestricted movement."

Over the next couple of weeks, Harry felt a marked difference in the way he was feeling. The ever-present pain of Yerasimos' Quandary was there, but he found he was not nearly as weak as before. Also, he began to notice more definition in his physique. He had always been toned from Quiddich and was still rail thin, but the extra sessions of Pilates was working his muscles in isolation.

His flying skills were also benefiting it seemed. Three times now in practice he had caught the Snitch in under forty minutes, although each had taken its toll and he had collapsed from exhaustion as soon as he found privacy. He was worried about the upcoming match versus Slytherin. How was he going manage in the hyped up atmosphere, not to mention playing against another team?

The Mulch, as he had come to call it, was still as disgusting as the first time he tried it. He thought after taking it once an hour every hour -excluding sleep- that he would have been used to it by know, but he had yet to refrain from cringing straight after drinking it. He tried hard not to, he had been successful so far; nobody had noticed him drinking from a highly suspicious-looking hip-flask. A few times he thought he saw Malfoy watching, but as soon as he turned his eyes to the Slytherin, he was never looking in his direction.

That was another disturbing thought. Malfoy hadn't said a harsh word to him in weeks. He was absolutely sure he was plotting something now. Whatever it may be, the Gryffindor had no doubt that he and Zabini were conspiring together, for whenever Blaise was around Harry, the blonde was never far from his side.

This only gave him further determination to win the match against Slytherin, no matter what it cost him. He had to catch the Snitch. No one could know there was anything wrong. That way he would show everyone that he was stronger than ever.

Draco Malfoy sat quietly in the Slytherin locker rooms as their captain delivered the usual pre-game threats. He was eager to get out onto the pitch and face the other Seeker, if only to see if Harry was still standing.

After the events he had witnessed, he had resolved to watch him with even more fervour, determined not to miss any indication as to what might be going on.

Unfortunately he still couldn't draw any conclusions. Over the past two weeks he had noticed Harry change again. This time he seemed to be improving somewhat, but while the brunette seemed to be able to do more and last longer, it almost seemed like a façade, as he would fade again quickly soon after.

Even more suspicious was the hip-flask Harry drank from on an alarmingly regular basis. He was discrete- Draco could grant him that, but then he didn't realise he was being watched like a hawk.

Draco shuddered to think what that flask might contain. Each time, he saw the boy drink and struggle to suppress a hideous grimace. He was consuming other substances too. Only last night when he was watching the brunette from behind bookshelves in the library, he had seen him look around and then unstopper a thin glass tube. It was filled with the same black substance Snape had forced down his throat outside the disastrous Potions class.

Alarm bells had gone off in his mind as he recalled the incident. His Head of House was behind whatever was wrong with Harry. He was still growing weaker, no matter how much it had slowed. He was sick, but not once had Draco seen him go up to the Hospital Wing.

The Slytherin team stalked out onto the pitch together and kicked off as Hooch blew the whistle. Draco immediately sought out Harry's form. To his trained eye he could see the boy was gripping his broom for dear life, even though his moves were as graceful as ever. On his face was a look a grim determination. Behind the goggles Draco could make out bright emerald eyes frantically searching for the tiny Snitch. It was as though he was being put to the test and only had a limited amount of time.

About fifteen minutes into the game Harry suddenly dove, speeding after a glint of gold on the far side of the pitch. He was sweating furiously and exerting as much power on his Firebolt as he could to go faster. Draco, who had been watching him the whole time, followed a split second later.

They sped towards the far end of the pitch fighting for the lead. Harry was ahead but Draco could see he was tiring fast. He could hear the other Seeker gasping for breath as they tore through the other players. As they came within ten metres of the winged ball, the two Seekers were level. It was only Harry's lightening fast reaction as the Snitch took an upwards turn that allowed him to pull above Draco and snatch the fluttering contraption out of the air.

Draco saw the look of fierce determination turn to pure relief. Shocked, he watched as Harry's eyes rolled up to reveal white and he passed out in mid flight, still moving higher. Making a split second decision, Draco moved his broom directly under the Gryffindor, waiting for the unconscious grip to finally loosen on the Firebolt.

Out of nowhere a Bludger came hurtling towards the scarlet robed Seeker, and Draco's jaw dropped in horror as the ferocious ball slammed into Harry's skull.

The strength of the impact forced the unconscious figure to hurtle down, heavily colliding with Draco and knocking him from his broom as he fought to catch him. Unable to stop their descent, Draco grasped the scarlet robes and pulled the other closer. The last thing he saw was Harry's face, a peaceful expression on his face, before darkness consumed him.

End Chapter Nine.

A/N: Hello again! Sorry it took so long, my uni workload snuck up on me and scared me to pieces! Sorry if it's a bit scratchy, but I don't have much time and wanted to get it out there for you guys to read. Let me know if you liked it! Cheers, Aarcher xxxx