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Cauldrons Aflame	By : JSSumner Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 1633 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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- 5
Chapter: 5

Deep within the bowels of the castle, amidst a large laboratory of bubbling cauldrons and potion-filled vials, there echoed a loud, agitated voice.

"Dammit!" Professor Snape growled, as his cauldron began to hiss and boil over. It was the second batch he had foiled that night. With the wave of his wand, he sent the botched pot soaring through the air, landing with a loud clatter in the sink. The thick, brown liquid splattered everywhere; against the wall, the ceiling, the floor. It would require at least two hours worth of scrubbing--perfect detention punishment for the next little prat that pisses him off. Severus smiled wickedly to himself; he already had someone in mind, and if Potter wasn't careful, he might be mopping that sticky slosh up with his silly little firebolt broom.

Finally deciding to call it quits, Severus dimmed the lights, and made for his private chambers. He was far too distracted by the night's events to concentrate on potions; brewing a cup of tea would probably prove to be a most difficult task for him at this stage. Shredding his robes, Severus slumped into his armchair by the fire, and sighed. He hadn't been this attracted to a female in years. He was a confirmed old bachelor, married only to solitude and self-indulgence. He liked it that way, Severus kept reminding himself, before bringing a fresh bottle of fire whiskey to his lips.

Three quarters empty, and three sheets to the wind, he made a personal vow to himself.... never to go this long without sex again.

Several weeks passed by. Severus spent most of his free time in the dungeons, working on a secret potion for the Ministry of Magic. It had been nearly two years since Voldemort's second rise to power, and almost one since he discovered Professor Snape was a double agent. For the past eight months, the committee has been commissioning defensive draughts, for further protection against deatheater attacks. Now, with the added Graphorn eggs as the final ingredient, Severus' draft was just days away from completion.

Claira, in the mean time, had finally found a friend. Padfoot, the large black dog, had taken a strong liking to her, and would often escort her to and from the infirmary, as well as any other place she needed to go. Upon occasion, when Madam Pomfrey retired to her rooms, Claira would allow Padfoot into the hospital, where she would spend hours upon end pampering and petting him appreciatively; she had a strange feeling that he understood more than he led on when she spoke to him.

One particular lonesome night, when Madam Pomfrey had assigned her night duty, Claira snuck him into the ward. Perched upon the windowsill, with Padfoot's head rested upon her knee, she poured her heart out to him, confessing every secret and fear she possessed.

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In just a short period of two weeks, Sirius had fallen madly in love with the girl. She was kind, caring, affectionate, beautiful--

"And totally thinks you're a dog, you fool!" A little voice inside his head kept reminding him, as he made way back to his chamber one evening.

Treading miserably to a small hidden room on the third floor, Sirius came to a halt, and turned to face a tall marble statue. Certain he was alone, he barked three times, and the statue gave way to a short tunnel, lit by a single torch; he followed it to a shabby wooden door. Standing up on his hind legs, he nuzzled the latch open, and slipped through.

Once inside, he transformed back into his original form, and sank wearily onto his bed. Staring solemnly at the ceiling, Sirius ran his hands through his long, black hair, damning himself for allowing his mind to become so distracted by Claira. He hadn't been making his journeys to Hogsmeade, as he should, and he hadn't even been to see his godson Harry in a while; he used to visit him every afternoon! What was it about her that made him act so irresponsibly? Perhaps it was her gorgeous blue eyes? Or was it her soft, soothing voice? No, it was her incredibly sexy body, with perfectly rounded breasts and long slender legs. She always smelled so damn delicious, and bet she tasted just that.

Sirius closed his eyes, unable to think of anything but Claira. Sighing wishfully, he imagined that she was in his room, lying naked on his bed. He thought of all the things he would do to her, if it were only so. God, how he wanted to feel her body, tiny and warm, beneath his; to hear her moans and cries of pleasure in his ear, as he made passionate love to her. Images of sex stirred in his mind, as his hand slowly crept down the length of his body, lingering on the clasp of his trousers. Fingers slightly trembling, he unfastened it, and carefully glided his zipper down; breathing heavy, he slipped his hand inside. He was already well aroused, and moaned loudly, as he wrapped his fingers around his aching need. Imagining his hand to be Claira's, he began to gently tease and stroke it, repeatedly speaking her name.

"For Merlin's sake, this is the third night in a row! Give it a rest already," taunted his inner voice.

Sirius snorted to himself in disgust. He had gone fifteen long years without a woman, or even a single erection for that matter--Azkaban has many alternative ways of torturing their prisoners, aside from sucking their will to live. Now, he couldn't seem to last a day if Claira so much as cooed at him. Merlin, he was pathetic!

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Tossing on an old faded pair of blue jeans and white t-shirt, Claira tore out of her chambers, flying down a flight of stairs like a bat out of hell. She had overslept, and feared Madam Pomfrey would be furious with her. In an attempt to save time, she tried jumping the last five steps; but missed. She went tumbling down them instead, landing face first on the carpet. Pealing herself off the floor, she ran the rest of the way, gasping for air as she barreled through the infirmary door.

"You're late, Claira," Madam Pomfrey stated flatly, hovering over a young girl covered from head to toe with small, yellow bumps.

Much to Claira's dismay, it looked to be a case of trechonitis--a very rare, yet highly contagious disease that causes the patient's skin to itch and swell. Anti-itching creams, as well as antibiotics, must be applied hourly; it is much easier to prevent, than it is to treat.

"I'm really sorry, Poppy. It won't happen again," Claira assured her. "Is that what I think it is?"

Madam Pomfrey nodded gravely. She then stood, and handed Claira a small vial of green liquid.

"Trechonitis. The whole school will need to be treated, and you're holding the only dose of vaccine I have left." She motioned for her to drink it. "Did they teach you alchemy at the Institute?"

"Of course. It was a required study. And if it's any consolation, I passed with top marks!" Claira answered proudly.

"Good, then you can work with Professor Snape on the draught. He'll need assistance if we are to administer the vaccine in time. Please, Claira, go and inform him of the situation. I believe he's holding his classes in dungeon three this week. Do you need a map, dear?" Madam Pomfrey was never more grateful to have an aide. Working with Severus was no cup of tea; he could be very difficult at times. She had done it, once. And it was a frightful experience she didn't care to repeat any time soon.

"Perhaps not. Let me see." Claira walked over to the door, and cracked it open. Padfoot was there, waiting for her, tail in full swing. "No thanks, Poppy. I have my trusty steed to lead the way!"
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Cauldrons Aflame