Professor Snape watched the retreating backs of the Seventh year Griffindors and Slytherins with mild satisfaction and a certain amount of joy that that class was over for another day.  However, this brief moment of happiness was quickly quashed by the realisation that he was only two days away from another such lesson.  In defeat, the potions master took up a pile of scrolls on his desk and began marking them.  He would sort out the row of potions on the front bench later.  He could already see they were going to be a dire bunch.  They were all completely different colours (the correct colour was a thin purple, but most looked decidedly not purple).  Severus Snape sneered cheerfully at the thought of deducting so many marks for such poor efforts.  A class of Seventh years still acting like First years.  It must have been a Griffindor, he thought, Griffindors always think they know better.  He would have to test each one carefully to make sure it was non-toxic (wouldn’t wasn’t any students to die- that would just be careless).  But any other effects he would let be so when the foolish student drank it next lesson they might learn to be more careful in future.  It was at this point that Snape heard a shuffling sound coming from the back corner of the classroom.  He sat still for a moment, considering what the noise could be, then the　answer was revealed as a rather battered and annoyed looking mushroom climbed out of a bucket in the corner of the dungeon and lept on to the back desk. 

  “Damned humans,” it was muttering, “Oooh that little git will pay for this.”  Snape continued to watch the mushroom as it brushed itself down then hopped from bench to bench until it had reached the front one.  There it stopped abruptly and looked up, having just noticed another presence in the room.  It frowned;

“Who’re you?” it asked gruffly.  Professor Snape raised an eyebrow and replied;

“I am Professor Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School.”

“I’m sure you are,” the mushroom murmured, “Well, one of your bastard little students kidnapped me and has spent the past few hours hitting me!  What do you intend to do about that Professor Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School.”

“Would it, do you think, be too much trouble for you to tell me who your assailant was, Master Mushroom?” Snape asked as courteously as he could.  You had to be careful with such mushrooms as they could be very tricksy.  The mushroom looked very unimpressed.

“How would I know who your brats are?”

“Then a description perhaps?”  The mushroom thought for a moment. 

“It had blond hair. All slicked back. Quite tall, it was, and skinny. Nasty face. Ugly. Had an ill look about it if you ask me.”  Well I didn’t ask you, Snape thought moodily.  It was clear however who the culprit was, though he was unsure about revealing that to the mushroom.

“Well?” the mushroom demanded impatiently, tapping its small foot and placing its miniature brown arms on its stem.

“I believe I know the student,” Snape answered cautiously, “He will be punished. You may return to the forest. I will have someone take you if you wish.”  The furious look on the mushroom’s squashed face immediately told Snape he had said the wrong thing.

“I may return to the...He will be...” spat the mushroom, “Why you arrogant human! I should...”

“I meant no offence,” Snape interjected, “He will be dealt with I assure you. I though it best for you to return home after your...ordeal.” But this only seemed to anger the mushroom further.

“What potion were you having them make?” It asked suddenly. “Ho! It looks like it was supposed to be some sort of calming brew, but it looks like most of them couldn’t even get that right so who knows what they turned out as. Maybe I’ll throw myself into one of them. See if you don’t take this matter more seriously then. See if it don’t kill you, damned human!”

  “That would be unwise,” stated Professor Snape. “It could do as much harm to you as it could to me.”  The mushroom frowned even more.

  “Then I will have to use the one I know,” it muttered and launched itself into the thin purple potion of Miss Hermione Granger.  Snape leapt from him seat in an attempt to stop the errant mushroom.

  “NO!” he cried.  But it was too late.  The mushroom was swimming merrily around in the bottle, dipping its head every now and again which caused the liquid to emit a noxious green gas.  Snape could only groan in misery at the knowledge of what that gas was sure to do to him.  The mushroom, knowing the effects of the gas too, grinned manically at the now swaying potions master.

  Severus Snape could feel the potion taking effect almost immediately.  He decided, once the potion had worn off, he would kill Malfoy for this.  But for now he would simply have to lock himself in his dungeon and wait it out.  Now he was starting to feel lightheaded and warm and, amongst other things he would rather not think about.  Definitely need to lock myself in my chamber, Snape decided and made his way to the door.  As he stumbled blearily forward he noticed a trail of small, purple footprints leading out of the room.  Snape was sure the mushroom had gone to go and find Malfoy.  He found himself hoping it did, for this was surely not going to be a pleasant experience.  His vision blurring, Snape stopped for a moment to lean against a desk, finding it difficult to concentrate, forgetting where he was going.  His mind blanked then stirred.  Churning up thoughts and fantasies then forgetting everything.  The potions professor found the lack of self control maddening.

  At that moment, Snape heard the dungeon door creaking all the way open.  He cursed his luck.  Not now, not now, he thought and may well have said it, though he couldn’t be sure, because Professor Lupin was walking towards him with a concerned look on his face saying something like;

  “My, Severus, what big hands you have…”  Snape shook his head.  No, no, no, Snape thought, Lupin did not say that…Why would be say that…  He had said;

  “Look, Severus, I should have explained better about the potion this morning…”  Not now, not now, Lupin you idiot…

  “Are you alright, Severus?” Lupin was saying.  He stepped closer to the potions master who appeared to be holding himself up with the table, his head hanging loosely.  “Severus?”  All Professor Snape could do was examine Remus Lupin’s thighs.  And legs.  He’d never noticed how very well formed they were until now.  They had such grace and were so very appealing…

  “Sorry Severus, did you say something about thighs?” Lupin was drawing ever closer.  With every ounce of self control he possesses, Professor Snape tore his eyes from Lupin’s legs (But what fine legs they were) to his face (and such a nice face it was too) and forced himself to speak.

  “No, no.  In a hurry.  Must go.”  And with that the potions master swept from the classroom to his rooms above the dungeons in order to take a very, very cold shower.