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Harry Potter and the Expert Potions Master	By : SickPuppy Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 21304 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe. I make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
- 17
Chapter 15 - Attack on Hogwarts

Back at Twelve, Grimmauld Place, Harry felt able to relax and let the tension of the last few weeks ebb away. After sitting the final exam he had packed his things, thanked all of the Hufflepuffs for their hospitality and left. He hadn't even stayed for a celebratory feast in the common room. All he had done was write the end of his letter to Snape, then he had made a quick exit. Sipping warm butterbeer and raiding the kitchens wasn't his idea of fun. Not when he was old enough to enjoy a real drink. And when, if he was honest, he couldn't quite shake what Snape had said, that Butterbeer had been used as a signal to other men.

So, he had gone and called Kreacher home. The old elf had seemed genuinely pleased to see him and had made such a fuss that Harry was glad that he'd come straight home instead of sitting in a common room mourning the end of his school career.

In the morning he awoke when Kreacher appeared in his room.

“Master Harry! Master Harry! An attack, sir! On the school!”

Harry leapt up, his morning erection gone. He threw on something resembling a correct outfit and hurried after the house elf.

“Kreacher, wait! What's happened?”

Kreacher turned the radio up and Harry listened, blood draining from his face.

“...the attack was made by three previously uncaptured suspected Death Eaters: Dolohov, who was seen at the Battle of Hogwarts and is rumoured to have killed Remus Lupin, a werewolf who was on our side; Mulciber, who was also at the fight and who was defeated in a duel early on and not seen after that point; and finally Travers. He too took part with You-Know-Who in the attack on the school but disappeared at some point before the final defeat of his master.

“Eye-witnesses say that the three aimed for the Gryffindor Tower and it is believed that they were aiming to kill Harry Potter, presumably to avenge their master's downfall. As it happens, Potter had not been staying in the Tower and had, in fact, left the school after taking his final exam the previous day.

“One teacher, Muggle Studies Professor Benedict Clement, said this, “We were all shocked by the sudden assault and cannot understand the purpose behind it. These three have been on the run since the Dark Lord's defeat so to attack the school now seems a futile gesture.”

Acting headteacher, Minerva Mcgonagall, who was Harry's Head of House when he was at Hogwarts, added, “Potter had already left the school. Luckily, many of the students were already in the Great Hall when the Death Eaters arrived. Other than a few cuts and bruises, no-one was hurt. In fact, it's taken us longer to repair the tower than to heal the few wounds, and that didn't take much time either! I really don't see what these Death Eaters hoped to prove or accomplish with this unnecessary and pointless violence.””

Harry stared at the radio as the reporter began his story again, filling people in who had just tuned in. That familiar gnawing sense of guilt hit him. His fault. They had gone to the school looking for him. They had destroyed Gryffindor Tower because of him. People could have been killed and for what? Harry had decided back when he was facing Voldemort that no-one else would have to die for him or because of him, so why was it happening all over again like some terrible nightmare?

His guilt was made worse because when he had been working at the Ministry, he'd tried to track those three, hoping they could have told him what had happened to some Aurors Harry had been researching. He had failed to find the Aurors and to find the Death Eaters and now people had been put in danger. It was a miracle that no-one had been hurt, and it was no credit to him.

Kreacher placed a plate of food in front of him but he stared off into space, not even seeing it. Finally the elf prodded him and said, “Master must eat.”

Harry obediently began putting food into his mouth and chewing, but he didn't taste his meal. This was a shame as Kreacher had made all of Harry's favourite breakfast things.

Not good enough. Harry thought endlessly. I'm just not good enough yet. Need to get much better at magic. Maybe then these awful things will stop happening.

After finishing his food and carrying a mug of tea with him up to the living room, Harry sat in his usual chair and sipped the drink mechanically. His eyes were seeing a castle far away, blown up, dead bodies strewn around, dust and spells filling the air.

Anger burned him.

Standing up he searched the house for his Auror textbooks and began reading them in a kind of frenzy, determined to become a better wizard to stop any one else suffering.

The morning became afternoon, which became early evening.

Kreacher brought him snacks and, at 5pm, a letter that he had wrangled from Trouble's beak to carry up to Harry.

“Thanks, Kreacher,” Harry said absently, but he was curious about the letter. His heart quickened as he recognised the handwriting – Snape! He didn't expect a letter as he'd only sent his on the previous day telling Snape about the final test and about the conversation he had had with Ginny. A sense that something had ended properly had filled him when he reviewed that conversation in his mind. But now, a letter from Snape?

He tore the unexpected epistle open and read.

Evans,

I assume you, like everyone else, have heard the news about the attack on Hogwarts. Knowing you, you are no doubt blaming yourself and vowing all kinds of silly vengeance on the men responsible. Look at what I just put: the men responsible. You are not to blame for what happened; three idiotic Death Eaters who clearly thought they could achieve something with your death are to blame.

By all means, however, use what has happened to motivate yourself to improve further. You have made some great advances in your knowledge over the past six months. It would be a shame to waste the ethos you have developed and not continue work. To that end I set you a puzzle: You have a barrel of a certain potion, and you need to measure out two gallons. How do you do this if you only have a three-gallon container and a five-gallon container? Assume, for this, that you are out in a field without access to your wand or any other items. Also assume, that once you have measured out two gallons it vanishes to do what you need it to do. How many times can you measure out two gallons if the cauldron holds ten gallons?

I look forward to your answer.

Snape.

Great, he's setting me homework now! Harry thought, but he was smiling happily and began working at the problem. The anger he had felt about the Death Eaters vanished as he focused on the puzzle. Scratching his hair with the end of the quill he used a scrap of parchment to work out the answer. Once that was done he turned back to the Auror book, but this time it was because he was interested in what it had to say, not because he was determined to be the best wizard ever.

It didn't take him long to put the book down and consider the All-Round Potion that Snape had mentioned so many months ago. Since buying the 67 ingredients, Harry hadn't had the time to focus on making sure the potion could be made properly. So now he went into his bedroom and opened the box, hoping (a little too lately to do anything about it) that there had been nothing in the parcel that had gone off. He didn't smell anything he shouldn't, just the usual odd smell of different items all assaulting his senses.

One item he had brought back from Hogwarts was his cauldron. This he moved into one of the other bedrooms. With the cauldron in place, Harry set about moving the furniture and odd items out of the way to create a space where he could work. The chest of drawers he cleared to give him somewhere to prepare ingredients and he transfigured the bed into a table and chair so that it could be pushed out of the way and provide somewhere for him to sit and read whilst waiting for his potions to brew.

Feeling pleased, he fetched the box of ingredients and also his new copy of Potion Making for Pleasure and Profit. The spine cracked as he opened it and he felt vaguely guilty that he hadn't looked at the book at all since he had purchased it. Now though, he turned eagerly to the page that was the start of the instructions for the potion.

Whilst working on the potion over the next few days, Harry's mind free-wheeled a little. Whilst reading instructions or checking things, he focused, but when carefully chopping ingredients, or steadily stirring as per the directions, he was free to think about his own sexuality and what that meant for him, and whether there was anyone he felt that attraction for. His spontaneous erections during school had been awful and he couldn't remember if there had been a particular thought that had set them off.

He remembered thinking about Dumbledore and Snape being missing. He smiled as he thought about the dark haired man. As much as Snape cultivated an unpleasant persona, he had been the only one who had given any thought to how Harry had felt when he had heard about the attack at Hogwarts, and the only one who had given Harry sage advice.

Aware of his sudden erection, Harry tried to think what had caused it. It definitely hadn't been the thought of Dumbledore! And it couldn't be Snape. Harry had known the other man for eight years and had loathed him for seven of those, so he certainly wasn't now about to feel lust for him. Frustrated, Harry rubbed his hardness against the edge of the chest of drawers, trying to relieve the ache. He couldn't dip his hand into his trousers because he was at a crucial stage in making the potion and needed to stir and add ingredients at a steady pace.

Instead, whilst he stirred and watched the liquid, waiting for it to change from bogey green to lime, he huffed out a breath as his mind conjured up a slender hand creeping around his stomach from behind him, sliding smoothly into his trousers and easily loosening the fastening so that the hand could encircle his throbbing length. He could almost feel the perfect grip of those slim digits as they held him tight, squeezing him almost to the point of pain but never causing him discomfort. The palm slid along his slick shaft and the fingers closed around his swollen tip. Harry whimpered, the potion slipping from his mind as he struggled to stop himself tugging out his cock and wanking himself raw.

A voice like silk seemed to whisper in his ear, “Come for me.”

And that voice was what it took. Harry thrust his hips forward and felt his release soak into his clothing. He clutched the top of the chest of drawers and gasped. He dragged in a huge lungful of air and was about to put two and two together when he saw the potion changing colour. An uncomfortable cooling fluid in his trousers was not conducive for dawdling, so he hurriedly put in the next item (dried foxglove leaves) and stirred until the leaves had all dissolved into the mixture.

That done he left the potion to stew, as the directions stated, and scurried to his room to wipe himself off and change.

It wasn't until he returned to his impromptu laboratory and turned down the heat so that the potion wouldn't boil, that he gave any thought to why he had climaxed so quickly.

Was it just because I was picturing someone here? He thought, then shook his head. One thing he was doing now that he had not done so well when he had been younger, was be honest with himself. Had it been Ron's voice he had heard, or some other man's, it wouldn't have aroused him to such an extent. What was it then? He thought crossly. Who did I imagine? Who do I want to be with me?

An answer swam up to the top of his mind. An answer that made him give a low groan of despair and disbelief.

Severus Snape.
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Harry Potter and the Expert Potions Master