Harry Potter and the Expert Potions Master | By : SickPuppy Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 21281 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2 |
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe. I make no money from this story. |
Chapter 18 - A Visit to Spinner's End
Evans,
You have asked very intelligent questions. I must confess myself surprised. Given the difficult nature of the queries, and knowing the vast numbers of follow ups I would be bombarded with, I suggest that you visit Spinner's End after training one day next week and I will go through the items in your letter.
Also, your comment about the 'special award' shows a level of maturity I had not expected from you. I suspect you may be right – the prize already has your name on it, but if you can do well, you are right, you will feel better about winning it. I do not say you will ever feel that you did deserve it, as I imagine there will always be a nagging suspicion that it was only presented because you are, indeed, the famous 'Harry Potter'.
I am tolerably well. I think the personal shield charm is not going to happen, but I have not yet completely given up.
Snape
Harry's heart (and dick) leapt at the thought of finally seeing Snape after all this time. He was extremely excited by the idea, but also apprehensive. What if, when he got there, this image of Snape that he had fallen for dissolved? Worse, what if his interest grew into something deeper and stopped him being able to concentrate and Snape got fed up with him and told him to leave?
Harry chewed his lower lip.
It was Sunday afternoon and he was trying to relax after the hectic first three days of Auror training, as well as prepare for the following week's mysterious activities. As first week's went, his had been pretty good. His final mark for the week had been:
Line test: 16/20; Fruit task: 19/20; Lecture: 18/20
Wand test: 11/20; Lesson: 18/20; Test: 16/20
Assault course: 13/20; Potion 20/20; Duelling: 12/20.
Total: 143/180 (79%); Pass mark: 90/180.
Given that the pass mark next week was 150, Harry felt pretty confident that he would achieve it; he had only been seven off after three days! Neville had finished the week on 121/180 (67%). Ron had got 99/180 (55%). It made him feel that maybe winning the special award wasn't going to be something that people would sneer at, knowing it had only been his because of his name, but that maybe he was proving himself worthy of it.
Harry had felt a mixture of smug satisfaction, guilt, and concern that Ron had done so poorly. If he carried on like that, he would pass next week, but if the pass mark were increased, he would probably struggle.
When Harry had checked all of the names on the board he had been surprised to see that he was among the top five. There had been seven who hadn't made it that week, including the irritating wizard who had been unwilling to think in new ways. That meant there were now 62 trainee Aurors left. With Snape's help, Harry hoped to stay in the top five and make it all the way through to the end.
Monday did not go well for Harry.
His mind was so completely on seeing Snape that evening that he did very poorly indeed during the academic part of the day. The physical part didn't go much better, as running with an erection is not the easiest of tasks. Harry didn't really care. He just wanted the day over so that he could get home, shower and fret about what he was going to wear. He wanted to look good, but not look like he was trying to look good. It was a difficult effect to pull off.
One task that day was to discuss what you would put in an emergency kit. Harry, because he had already given some thought to it, had at least some ideas. During the task, he had been in a small group of six and he had certainly had the most to say. He had kept his idea about a spare wand to himself; that was his to test. And besides, he needed to make a visit to a wand maker to get a new one. Although he was very fond of his Ollivander's wand, he had decided to use a different wand maker for his spare. His reasoning had been that it was always a good thing to spread the magical skills, and Ollivander might have amazing abilities, but there was nothing that said some other wand maker couldn't be skilled in a different way.
At the end of the discussion, the wizard presiding had advised them all to prepare an emergency kit and let them go. Understanding that at some point in their training they would need their emergency kits, Harry had gone straight to Diagon Alley to buy bottles of All-Round and Wiggenweld potions. He had also gone into Gringotts and converted some of his wizard money into pounds sterling. That done he had wandered along the Muggle streets and shopped for some clothes to go into his emergency kit. He chose jeans, a plain navy t-shirt, and a thick navy jumper. As well, he picked up some new underwear as his own was starting to get tatty. He blushed at the thought of Snape seeing him in his faded boxers.
Snape seeing me in my boxers... he mentally groaned and tried to wish down his erection.
They had finished quite early that day so Harry still wasn't too late when he went home and had his shower. After looking at all of his clothes, Harry pulled on his new outfit and stuck his feet into his least scabby looking trainers. He'd told Kreacher the previous day that he would be going out in the evening, so not to worry about food. Even so, he could smell a mixture of leftover beef and vegetables stewing.
Heart fluttering, Harry apparated to Spinner's End for the first time in his life. He was oddly surprised at how very ordinary the house was. Even though he knew the house was in a Muggle area, he had never considered how normal it looked. He was used to magical houses that looked magical: the Burrow, the Lovegood's; even Shell Cottage had an aura of magic about it. This place seemed deeply depressing and overwhelmingly normal. Still, this was Snape's home.
Harry knocked the door, not even breathing.
The door opened a tiny amount and a glittering black eye peered around the wood. “Po-Evans,” Snape said, his voice slightly scratchy but still recognisable.
Harry felt his dick throb and pulled his cloak in front of his crotch. “Sir,” he said. His voice was much too high, and he was sure his tongue was going to stick to the roof of his mouth.
“Come in,” Snape offered, widening the entrance so that Harry could just squeeze past the older man. He angled himself carefully so that his aching cock didn't rub against any part of Snape's body.
Inside, Harry followed the other wizard into a sitting room lined with books. He gaped. Floor to ceiling was shelf upon shelf of books.
“Sit down,” Snape croaked, indicating a chair.
Sitting, still ensuring his cloak was hiding his hardness, Harry looked around. On a small round table next to the other chair was a pile of parchment. He realised with a jolt that he was staring at his letters to Snape. A queer feeling in his stomach assaulted him as he spied those letters, kept so near at hand for the other wizard to refer to.
Settling in the chair, the flames from the fire throwing red lines across his pale face, Snape began speaking, “Your queries were eminently suitable. I am almost starting to believe that you could be a competent Auror.”
“Thanks,” Harry muttered sarcastically.
“As to how to perform wandless magic, that is something that requires focus and a great deal of practice. As I am sure you are aware, before choosing your wand, or rather, before your wand chooses you, witches and wizards often perform unintentional magic without wands. Such magic is usually undisciplined and reacts to the person's emotions.”
Harry nodded, remembering a vanishing glass at the zoo. Idly he wondered whether the boa had ever made it to Brazil.
“Once a person has a wand, their magic is channelled through it. In some ways, a wand diminishes your natural power, but in others it strengthens it. Magic performed in the heat of the moment is generally stronger wandless, but magic performed with thought and deliberation is generally stronger with a wand.” Snape stopped and coughed.
Instantly Harry was worried. “Are you all right? Do you want me to fetch you a drink?”
Snape shook his head, conjured a glass and filled it with water. He drank some before going on, “So, the way to perform wandless magic is to focus on what you want to do and the reason behind why you want to do it. With suitable emotion behind you, you can cast magic without a wand.”
“Can you teach me?” Harry asked, “It was so damned annoying to feel helpless because my wand was gone.”
Snape nodded. “Perhaps. I do not recall focus and controlling your emotions being your strong point at school...”
Harry, like Snape, was thinking of the disastrous Occlumency lessons. “No.” Harry agreed, “I wasn't exactly the ideal student, but it was rather a stressful year, and at the time I hated and resented you, which did rather interfere with how well I learnt.”
“You don't hate and resent me now?” Snape asked, tone amused.
“Of course not!”
“You will,” Snape said with certainty and gestured for Harry to stand and follow him into another room.
The new room was a dark passageway that ran alongside the kitchen. Harry expected to go to another location and was surprised when Snape stopped and faced him.
“This is a good place to practice as there is little here that you can destroy if, as I expect, your magic is unfocused and goes wrong. Now, there is no need to wave your hands or arms in specific ways, nor the need to yell your spells. Merely think them clearly, and have a strong reason for casting and the spell should work. Some people find it helpful to use their hands to 'aim' but I feel that that rather defeats the whole point of wandless magic – which is to surprise your opponent.
“We shall start by you trying to cast Expelliarmus. I've chosen that as it is a spell you are good at, and one which provides a clear reason for casting.”
Snape held his wand in front of him and waited.
Harry tried to clear his mind of his whirling desires and focus on what he was to do. To prevent him being tempted to cheat, he placed his wand on the cement below his feet and straightened up, huffing out a breath in preparation. He thought about taking Snape's wand off him, over-powering the other man, having him at his mercy...
Without conscious thought he cast the spell.
Both men were amazed when Snape's wand flew out of his hand and landed on the floor.
“Well done!” Snape sounded truly impressed. “An excellent start. You need to motivate yourself more quickly, but a sound beginning.”
After ten minutes of intense work, Harry could disarm Snape in less than a second. He was tired, and his head throbbed with the effort he had made. Rubbing at his scar, he leant against the peeling wallpaper and hoped Snape wasn't going to ask him to cast the spell again.
“That's enough for today,” Snape declared and led the way back into the sitting room. Settling back down, Snape reached for the topmost of Harry's letters and re-read it. “Ah, yes, wandlore. An intriguing area. I thoroughly agree with you that it makes sense to get a wand made by a different maker. Had you considered whom to approach?”
“Well,” Harry began, “Gregorovitch was my first choice, but as he was murdered by Voldemort, and had, anyway, retired before that, I'm not sure who else there is.”
Snape tapped his chin. Harry's eyes fixed on the slender finger and longed for that digit to touch him. His cock pulsed in time with the tapping.
“Gregorovitch had an apprentice whom he handed over to when he retired. How good she is is anyone's guess. Given that she is still selling wands at the old shop, I would assume she has at least some skill.”
Harry pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and tugged at a loose piece of skin with his teeth. “Thanks, sir. Did I ask about anything else?”
Snape glanced at the parchment then back up. “An emergency kit.”
“We discussed those today,” Harry said quickly.
“Ah. And what conclusions did you reach?”
Harry looked into the fire. Those dark eyes fixing so intently on him made him feel exposed and vulnerable. He longed to just forget his fears and tell Snape what he wanted, but how could he? What would ever be the point in telling the man who loved his mother how her son felt?!
“We ...” he pulled himself together with difficulty and went on, “we decided on a couple of potions – the two I wrote to you; and of course I'd add my invisibility cloak, and the Muggle things I said. I was thinking too about when Hermione, Ron and I were camping. If I'm suddenly stuck somewhere and need to hide, I'd probably need a tent too, right?”
“Is it likely that that might happen?”
“I don't know, they like keeping us on our toes!” Harry grumbled.
“As they should!” Snape sounded approving.
Harry remembered something he hadn't put in his letter, “I got full marks when we were told to make the Restoration Potion.”
Snape hid a smile of quiet pride. “I would expect no less. Any wizard who gets an Outstanding NEWT in Potions should be able to make that particular concoction.”
“Most people couldn't.” Harry said. “We had the list of ingredients and some of the instructions, but it didn't say how to prepare the various items. I knew, because I actually understand some potion theory now thanks to you, but most people were baffled.”
Snape smiled. “Idiots.”
A comfortable silence settled on the room. Harry was surprised and pleased that he was able to talk so easily to Snape, and enjoy the rhythm of their conversation. He just wished the other man would realise how much Harry wanted him and do something about it! Even when practising wandless magic, Harry's arousal had never quite fully deflated, and every time Snape had spoken to him, he had felt the surge of interest from that part of his body. He wanted to stay and talk to Snape, but at the same time he was desperate to get home and release the tension that had been coiling inside him all day.
Snape, surreptitiously eyeing the man opposite him, wondered when Harry would find someone he wanted to have a relationship with. He hoped, whatever happened, that he would still have this odd almost friendship with Harry; he'd come to rather like it. Maybe the reason why Harry was still alone was because he didn't know what he wanted, or hadn't realised what he wanted. Snape crushed this thought. There was no chance with this young man. There never would be.
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