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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
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Chapter 22 - A Gifted Wizard

Friday finally arrived. Harry was still feeling fairly fresh, even though he'd had a narrow escape during a duel with a dark wizard. He'd also faced off against a group of dementors. He hoped to goodness that the Aurors had kept a close eye on everyone who had had to face them, as they were one challenge that hadn't been controlled.

Now he was sitting in his tent, waiting for the test to end. He had faced thirteen different foes during his time in the forest and he assumed, given that there had been 280 points available (and, therefore fourteen twenty point challenges) that he still had one to face. But he heard a bang and the disembodied voice of Ben Williams could be heard,

“All trainees report to the archway. Follow the purple sparks.”

Harry rotated his neck and packed his equipment away, carefully stowing it back in the mokeskin pouch. That done he looked up and saw a line of sparks in the sky. They were shaped like an arrow and were clearly pointing towards the exit.

He trudged back, hoping he'd done enough to reach 250 points. It was such a big ask, especially when in a test like this one.

He saw others ahead of him, and turning around, saw some behind too. Most of them seemed to be moving with very little energy. One or two stumbled now and then as they made their slow way back to the archway. Harry saw one wizard fall down and just lie there, either too grievously injured, or simply too tired to get up. Harry ran to help and got a shoulder underneath the other man (who, it turned out, had simply fallen asleep whilst standing up), and half supported, half dragged him back to the archway.

Back in the main hall, Harry noticed how very quiet everyone was. There were lots of yawns, and many people dozing off in the warm room. Having had a decent night's sleep every night, Harry felt fine, and gave both Neville and Ron nods when they appeared in the hall. Ron slid into a chair by Harry and said quietly, “You know, I think I owe Hermione. I put a tent into my emergency kit cos of that year.”

Harry grinned. “Yeah,” he admitted, “me too.”

Neville stumbled into a seat next to Ron and shook his head once or twice to wake himself.

“How are you both looking so fresh?” he complained. He was still in the clothes he had been wearing on the Monday, as, it turned out, were many of the others. Both Harry and Ron were in different clothes and had a look about them of well being that few others did.

Williams and Dubhshláine apparated into the room and waited for the last few people who had been milling about aimlessly to settle.

“You're done for the week,” Ben said without preamble. “Your points are posted up already, so have a look. We'll see seven of you next week.”

There was a gasp. On Monday the group had contained 39. And now, after the difficult field test, 32 trainees had failed! There was a collective scurrying for the corridor that listed the results. Ron and Harry, both feeling a little smug and as though they would be one of the seven, hadn't hurried as much as the others, but there was still quite a crowd gathered around the tables when they finally reached the results board, and there was plenty of conversation and noise now.

“No! I missed by three marks! How is that fair?!” one witch was shrieking, almost pulling her hair out. Her two friends, neither of whom had passed either, patted her consolingly.

Harry scanned for and found his name:

Potter, Harry: Emergency kit: 20/20; Base set-up: 17/20; Lost Muggle: 18/20.

Football crowd: 16/20; Tracking: 15/20; Escaped hippogriff: 19/20.

Troll: 16/20; Bowtruckle attack: 20/20; Hiding: 20/20

Centaur herd: 20/20; Azkaban escapee: 16/20; Foreign witch: 15/20.

Duel: 17/20; Dementor: 20/20; Medical emergency: 20/20.

Total: 269/300 (90%); Pass mark 250/300 (83%)

Given how even he hadn't aced the various tests, and he had been in a far stronger position than many of his peers, Harry was a little surprised that as many as seven of them had made it through.

Ron, he noticed, was smiling, so he assumed he'd made it. He glanced at the board. Yes, Ron had 261. A very good score considering everything.

Harry felt his stomach churn for Neville. Had he made it? A look at the board told him what he needed to know, even though he didn't quite believe it. Neville had received exactly 250 points. Relieved for his friends, Harry had walked away, not caring who the other four remaining trainees were; he'd find out soon enough on Monday. For now though, he just wanted to see Snape.

He left the Ministry and apparated to Spinner's End. Although he hadn't given Snape any warning, he assumed that the other man would be at least reasonably pleased to see him. It was odd that he hadn't been hard during the previous week. He supposed that having to focus so carefully on passing the test had driven his obsession with Snape out of his mind.

Knocking on the door, Harry waited for it to open the customary crack.

“Ha – Evans!” Snape was gaping at him.

“Er, hi.” For some reason Harry felt unaccountably shy. “We finished the test. Can I … come in?”

Snape just stared at Harry, then, as though remembering his manners he allowed the younger wizard to cross the threshold. “I wasn't expecting you,” Snape explained, although that much was obvious to Harry as he entered the living room and found it filled with all manner of junk.

“What have you been doing?!”

Snape looked embarrassed. “I thought that, since you weren't going to be here this week, I may as well have a clear out.” He neglected to mention that he had been clearing out the spare bedroom, emptying it of almost everything so that it could be turned easily into a guest room (should he ever convince Harry to stay the night and sex wasn't on the agenda) or, and here he was really being hopeful, into a nursery.

Harry looked at the accumulated detritus and smiled ruefully. “And I thought I was the only person who seemed to collect rubbish.”

Snape cleared off Harry's chair and pointed him into it. “I take it, seeing as you aren't here looking for a shoulder to cry on, that this week went well?”

Harry nodded and told Snape all about the various tests and how well he had done on some of them.

Snape listened intently, his black eyes giving their full attention to Harry. He hadn't seen the other wizard for a week and was hungrily drinking in the sight of the messy black hair, the shining green eyes, and the slender figure he was so attracted to. But more than all of the physical aspects, he had missed Harry's presence in his life.

“So,” Harry concluded, unaware of the thoughts afflicting Snape, “your map and the potions were really useful in the end.”

There was a long pause before Snape dragged a suitable response out of his distracted brain. “I'm glad. And you had no need for wandless magic?”

“Not this time,” Harry admitted, “but I still want to master it.”

“Let's get to it, then.”

They went into the hallway and, surprising them both, Harry did brilliantly. Almost effortlessly he disarmed Snape, cast Protego, Petrified his companion, and even managed a weak non-corporeal Patronus.

“That – that was...” Snape simply stared at Harry, the other man had been damned impressive.

Amazed with his own unexpected prowess, Harry nodded a little shyly. It only goes to prove, he thought, what I can do when I haven't got a raging hard-on! Although, now that he had let the thought in, he suddenly did have a raging hard-on. Dammit!

“So,” he said, gasping at his sudden aching arousal, “what else have you done this week, other than make a mess of the house?”

Snape shrugged. Until the potion had proved its worth he didn't want to give Harry false hope, although he had spoken to Kingsley and explained what the potion and spell were capable of. Shacklebolt had been impressed in his calm way and had promised to review the cases of the two women, and to consider the re-writing of the same sex laws. Given how incredibly busy Kingsley was, and in his case Snape knew it was achieving something, he had been astounded at the positive response he had received. Of course, time would tell if the Minister actually would do something about it.

Glancing at the mess, Harry saw a damaged portrait and felt guilt leap into his throat; he had still done nothing about getting Snape's picture accepted at Hogwarts. He resolved to write to Kingsley as soon as he got home to plead Snape's case. It also sparked curiosity in him.

“What happens to the occupant of a painting if the painting is damaged really badly?”

He remembered the fat lady running into another portrait when Sirius had attacked, but that damage had been repairable. What about if it wasn't?

Snape looked down at the painting. It had a huge piece sliced out of it. Jaw clenching, he cursed his demented Muggle father who had taken the knife to the portrait of his mother's family after a particularly nasty argument had got out of hand. Snape had been away at Hogwarts, in his final year, when it had happened, and his mother had told him nothing about it until he returned home and saw the ruined picture.

He really should have got rid of the painting a long time ago, but it was a link to his mother who had died during the first wizarding war. Snape had always told himself that one of 'Dumbledore's lot' had been responsible, but he knew, having been a party to both sides, that it was far more likely that she had been caught in the crossfire of an attack on his father and killed by an uncaring Death Eater.

With difficulty he pulled himself back to the present, and gave his attention to Harry's question. “If the painting is utterly destroyed, then the people within in it vanish. This one, although damaged beyond repair, had not been destroyed, so the people who should be in it have scattered to other paintings or are standing just out of shot.”

“Can't....” Harry stopped, collecting his thoughts, “Can't a replacement be painted that they could step into?”

Snape shook his head. “I'm afraid not.”

Harry stared at the picture, “So the people in that picture are just going to be gone when this is destroyed?”

Mouth pursed in an unhappy line, Snape nodded.

“Who were they?” Harry's voice was gentle.

Snape sank into his chair, which he had kept clear of rubbish, and rubbed his forehead. “My mother's family.”

“Princes?” Harry blurted out before he could stop himself.

Snape smiled. “Indeed. I'm the last of the Princes. And even I'm only half-blood.”

Harry settled into his chair, longing to hold Snape. “There's nothing wrong with being half-blood.” Attempting to cheer Snape up he said, “Some of the best wizards are half-bloods! You, me...”

“The Dark Lord?” Snape added to the list quietly.

Harry shivered. “Well, yes. In fairness, he was a gifted wizard. Fucking mental, but gifted.”

Snape laughed, genuinely amused at Harry's brief, but accurate description of the now vanquished dark wizard.

Back home at Grimmauld Place, and feeling guilty that he hadn't told Kreacher about his week long absence, Harry settled into the living room (chewing happily on the huge chunk of carrot cake the elf had brought him) and began his letter to Kingsley.
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Harry Potter and the Expert Potions Master