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Just Hold It In by Drecklin

Format: One-shot
Chapters: 1
Word Count: 748
Status: COMPLETED

Rating: 12+
Warnings: No Warnings

Genres: Fluff, General, Humor
Characters: Dumbledore, Slughorn, OC
Pairings:

First Published: 06/26/2010
Last Chapter: 06/26/2010
Last Updated: 06/26/2010

Summary:
Absolutely brilliant banner made by Fox at TDA! She's the best.

Horace Slughorn was a fantastic student. Except when you put him in a room with fifty other fifth years and slapped an exam in front of him. Then he was a complete wreck.

Written for Staff Challenge Six


Chapter 1: Just Hold It In
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Anything you recognize belongs to JKR. Anything you don't might be mine.




He had his head deep within the confines of a friend he had recently grown to love. Her porcelain shell took away all the troubling things he spewed into her, quite literally. Ever since the Professors began to mention taboo words such as ‘exams’ and ‘end of term’ Horace had been making his house proud with the green tinge of his skin. As he took a breath from being sick, he heard a voice behind him and cringed. Knowing his luck, which seemed to be on the ‘not there’ side of things, it was sure to be one of the Greave twins, the wretched boys without an ounce of respect for authority.

"Horace, Horace, Horace," came a soft tut from behind him. He recognized the voice immediately and felt the relief swell to the size of the toilet he was now leaning over. This person was not a Greave twin; in fact this person was far from it. "If you let exams swallow you up like this, you’ll never get to see the world. Or study in Italy with Felucinni," the soft spoken voice said again, but at the mere mention of exams Horace felt his stomach twist and tighten into a ball that he tried to heave up. "Come on." A hand made it into Horace’s vision and he took it, working up the stall wall slowly.

His knees were shaky and wobbly underneath him, but he felt steady enough to gather the rest of his pride and nod respectfully at bus Dumbledore, spotting that unsettling twinkle in his eyes.

Horace always felt like there was so much more to the Head Boy than he led on. Of course, being two years under the mystical boy, he hardly felt like he was in a position to question him.

"Thanks," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his head with a clammy palm. This was not a position he wanted to be in when introducing himself to Albus, though it seemed the Head Boy was at a point beyond introductions- something that thoroughly puzzled the frazzled sixteen year old.

Horace took a deep breath before clearing his throat and muttering thanks again to the Head Boy, trying to make his way past him to the exit. He was greatly embarrassed and figured he couldn’t stand any more of this.

But a thin, pale hand stopped him. It was the same hand that had been his savior not only a moment before, but had turned on him it seemed.

“Just wait a minute, Horace,” spoke Albus in that horribly authoritative voice. “Deep breathing helps.” And with that, Horace only received the familiar twinkle before it had disappeared behind the door of the exit.

How Dumbledore managed to do it, Horace would never figure out, but he was intimidating, helpful and quick as fire all at the same moment. And he had left Horace a bit bug-eyed and white as Pasty Patsy the Ravenclaw in his wake.




Deep breaths.

No, Horace
. Deeper breaths

He sucked in as much air as he could hold before letting it out in the noisiest way possible. Every other fifth year in the room was giving him dirty looks, his breathing clearly disrupting their work. It was only the first exam and already he was choking up, almost literally.

Horace stared blankly at the page in front of him on the desk. The theory of transfiguration. How did he turn that rat into a goblet during second year? His mind ran in circles trying to figure out what spell he had used. Was it the res virteo one, or the ris vertea?

“Oh Merlin save me,” he muttered under his breath. This was getting him nowhere. Did he really even need to get a good score in Transfiguration? He went cross-eyed staring at the examination.

Yes, yes he did.

Horace raised his hand, trying the deep breaths but not succeeding. Finally, the overseer noticed him and walked over to his desk, looking down on him with a stern eye.

“What do you need sir?” she asked curtly, not amused by his interruption.

“I-” Horace snapped his mouth shut. “I’m going to be sick.”




A/N this is just a cute little piece about Horace Slughorn for the Staff Challenge, I had a lot of fun writing him like this and I'd love to know what everyone else thinks! Thank you!

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