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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 List
- 5
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- 7
Chapter 5 - The Need to be Freed

Harry sat in his room, feeling awful, and thought about what he was going to write. He needed someone's advice, someone impartial and whose opinion he trusted and valued. And, it was far easier to write it down than say it face to face. His cheeks grew hot at the thought of trying to say what was in his mind to someone.

Dear sir,

Merry Christmas. I did consider getting you a small gift but felt sure you would have been either insulted or some other difficult to define emotion. I trust you are well and your throat is still healing.

I haven't had much time to look at the Auror training book so don't have any follow up questions regarding the potions, although I am sure I will have many once I look at the full ingredients list.

Perhaps you will think this a terrible imposition, but I would value your advice and opinion. Even if that opinion is “Get over yourself”. You see, Ginny and I have had a terrible argument and are, I think, split up. Although, as I write that, I don't remember officially getting back together with her after the final battle, it was just assumed by everyone, including myself, that we had done.

We have been a little rocky for a couple of months now as she is of the opinion that we were together forever, therefore any physical activity that might normally be saved until marriage is something that we could undertake now. I tried to explain to her why I felt doing that in her parents' house was difficult, and she seemed to accept what I said. However, a week ago she rather forced the issue and we were more intimate than previously (although, and I blush as I write this, we didn't go too far). Both of us gained pleasure from what we did, but I felt, and still feel, that Ginny was being … I don't have the word, but she ignored my feelings in her desire.

Today, we had a big argument. Hardly the best start to Christmas. She wanted to know why I was so unwilling to touch her (I have been avoiding any contact this week to hopefully avoid any repetition of last week's events) and if I wanted to marry her. Those two ideas don't seem connected, but whilst we were talking, our future certainly came up. I just didn't know how to explain to her what last year was like. I know that being at Hogwarts during that time cannot have been easy, but surely there must be some consideration from her for the sheer scale of the problem I was faced with following Dumbledore's death?! I'm not looking for pity, just understanding that she gets how difficult the task was, and how much energy was needed then, and how much energy is needed now to rebuild what was so nearly destroyed.

Ginny feels that I am being unreasonable in not wanting the same things she does. Am I? I know that you will not tell me what I want to hear, but what I need to hear.

I did not wish to burden you with this, but as you can imagine, I can hardly discuss this with Ron or Hermione. Especially as (and this, as you can imagine, has not helped) they have just become engaged.

Again, have a Merry Christmas. I'm sure yours is going better than mine!

Evans

Creeping quietly up to the attic, Harry sent the letter with Pig before he could change his mind. Although as he watched the little bird fly away he wanted to call it back and tear up what he had written. What on earth did he expect Snape to say? Snape wouldn't care about Harry struggling with his love life. All at once Harry felt ashamed of himself for using Snape as his confidant.

“Harry?” It was Hermione who stood at the top of the attic steps, twisting her engagement ring nervously.

“Hermione,” Harry struggled for airy casualness. “Congratulations! That's really great news – you and Ron. Have you set a date?”

She looked down at the ring, a smile of shy pleasure and triumph mingling together on her lips.

“Not yet. We don't want to hurry, but Ron wanted to let me know that he was serious, even if it took us years to finally get married.”

A sharp pain hit Harry. Wasn't that exactly what Ginny had wanted from him? Some reassurance that they would be together, even if the current hectic events prevented them from marrying? He wondered. Ginny hadn't seemed willing to wait.

“Did - did you want to tell me what happened down there? I didn't expect to tell them I was engaged and have everyone glower at you!” Hermione tried for levity, but failed.

Sighing, Harry rubbed at his scar. “I'm sorry, Hermione. We really ruined your big moment.”

“It's fine, really.” she reassured him. “Just tell me what's happened to make all the Weasleys want to wish you dead.”

He sat down on the dusty floorboards, and let his head sink into his hands. How could he explain without telling her too much? He couldn't skirt around it either, as she was far too bright to be fooled for long.

“Has it got something to do,” she asked, with her usual unerring accuracy, “with Ginny and you being physical?”

Harry gaped at her.

“I see it has.” she said, a smug expression on her face. “Really, Harry, of course I noticed! Ginny has been trying to get your attention for weeks now and you've been doing everything you can to avoid her. You can't tell me that if you were happy, you'd have spent every waking moment at Hogwarts or the Ministry! No, don't try and lie,” she added as Harry opened his mouth. “Or, maybe you don't realise that's what you've been doing. Ginny's not an idiot. She knows something's up, but you just don't seem willing to talk to her, or anyone, about it.” There was a long pause while Harry tried to think of something to say.

“So, tell me, what upset them all?”

Harry told her. “Ginny and I were arguing about not doing, you know, it.” He couldn't look at Hermione. “And somehow it got into an argument about whether we were going to get married. I don't - don't know what happened, Hermione. One minute we were talking about us kissing, the next she was basically telling me to decide right that second if I wanted to marry her!”

“Don't you know?” Hermione asked very gently.

Something about the slump of Harry's shoulders gave her her answer. “Maybe today was a bad day to have this conversation. But you are right. If you're not sure you shouldn't say you'll marry her, or have sex, or anything that might make her think you're more serious than you are.” She trailed off, lost in thought. She did then go on, her tone far brisker, “Though you could have picked a better day to tell her!”

“I didn't pick! I didn't even know that's how I felt. I thought I loved Ginny.” He used one finger to trace random shapes in the dust.

Hermione shifted. “I have to go back down. I only said I'd gone the toilet.” she looked sadly at her friend. “Give it time, Harry, you went through a lot during the war. It's going to take you time to really work through all of that.”
“That's what I keep saying!” he cried, voice almost screeching. “But she doesn't seem to care that I went through hell to defeat Voldemort. No it's all about her and getting me to screw her!”

Hermione winced and grimaced at the mental image. She left, saying nothing else, but leaving Harry with plenty to consider.

Sitting there in the attic, alone and quiet, Harry realised he didn't want to have sex with Ginny. Sure, he wouldn't have said no if it hadn't have mattered, if it had been just some casual fling. But he couldn't do it and then pretend it meant nothing.

Sighing, he came to another realisation. He needed to leave the Burrow. That decided, he at once went down to the room he had been using and cleared his things away into the trunk. He threw his dirty clothes on top, knowing he'd have to wash everything when he got to Twelve Grimmauld Place, but not caring at the moment. He just needed to get away. Harry would never have believed that he would ever feel uncomfortable and unwanted at the Weasley house, but everything had its time. And maybe his time with the Weasleys was over. He hoped not as he still loved Ron and Ron's parents. But at the moment, it was just too difficult to remain.

Surveying the room for any stray articles, Harry shrugged. Some part of him was dying here, with his departure, but it was necessary.

He sent his trunk on ahead of him, knowing that its sudden appearance would alert Kreacher to his imminent arrival. Hopefully Kreacher would greet him with a cup of tea, and maybe even a mouthful of food.

The trunk gone, Harry sank onto the bed. He really didn't want to leave. Squaring his shoulders, he stood up, turned on the spot, and thought of his property in London. It was as he was leaving that he wondered if Snape would reply to him, and whether the letter would go to the Burrow, or Grimmauld Place.

“Master,” Kreacher's bull-frog voice welcomed him home.

“Hi, Kreacher, Merry Christmas.” he said, feeling distinctly unmerry. He also felt guilty. He hadn't got Kreacher a present, or even thought about the elf in the weeks running up to Christmas. He'd been so self-absorbed he hadn't even wondered if Kreacher had been lonely or pleased that his master was away.

“Hi, Kreacher.” Harry tried again. “Sorry I've been away so long. Have you been okay?”

“Kreacher has been well, master. Kreacher has been cleaning the house.”

Harry felt awful. Poor Kreacher, stuck here, waiting for some whim of his 'master'. A thought came into his mind and, being Harry, he acted on it. “Kreacher, if I offered you your freedom, would you be horribly offended?”

Kreacher looked stunned. “Master wants Kreacher to go?” he croaked.

“No. NO!” Harry responded at once. “I just, I don't want you to serve me because you have to. I'll free you, if you want, and then, you could work here, if you w-wanted of course. And I'd pay you. But you wouldn't have to call me 'master' and you wouldn't have to do what I said.”

Kreacher's pale eyes stared fixedly at Harry. “Kreacher is a house elf, master. Kreacher lives to serve.”

“You had to serve the Blacks,” Harry said, trying to convince the smaller being, “But I'm not a Black. You can choose to remain unfreed, if you want. But, I'd feel better knowing you were free to do what you wanted.”

“Master must do what he thinks best. Kreacher must agree with him.”

“That's my point!” Harry's frustration level, already high after the morning, was heading skyward. “You're a thinking, feeling being. You shouldn't have to agree with me! Tell me what you think! Your opinion, not what you've been told you have to say!”

“Master is ordering Kreacher to tell him what Kreacher thinks?”

A growl of irritation came out of Harry without him even being aware of it. “No,” he said, fed up of arguing, “I'm not ordering you. I want you to do what you want, not what I say you must. So, please, Kreacher, if you want, please tell me what you think about being freed.”

There was silence. It stretched on far too long. Finally Harry spoke again, “Okay, you can take some time to think about it, if you want. Why don't you let me know when you've decided what you want?”

Kreacher nodded and headed into the kitchen. “Does master want a drink?”

Harry felt all his efforts of the last few minutes wash away. “Yes, Kreacher, I do. Lead the way.”

Sitting in the kitchen of number twelve, Harry couldn't help compare it to the kitchen at the Burrow. This kitchen was large, designed to serve a very large rich family. Everything was in the right place and you could sit at the table without constantly being in the way of a door, or a bustling Mrs Weasley. Almost, it felt like betrayal, that he preferred this room. Even if it was devoid of life at the moment, except for the elf and himself.

He recalled reading letters at this table, Hedwig by his side.

If Pig went to the Burrow with a letter from Snape, his chances of getting it were very small. And, as he didn't have an owl – his stomach clenched as his thoughts dwelt on Hedwig – he couldn't send Snape a message to tell him he (Harry) had moved.

I really need to get a replacement owl. Harry told himself. But the idea didn't appeal. The thought of just replacing Hedwig, like she was a tool to be used and discarded, sat uncomfortably with him. He knew, when he did decide to replace her, it wouldn't be with another snowy owl. He wouldn't have been able to bear that.

Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed when Kreacher pushed a hot mug of tea into his hands and slid a plate of warm biscuits onto the pitted wooden table. Absently he muttered his thanks to the elf and returned to his musings.

He almost welcomed a response from Snape, even though he was sure it would consist of the older man telling him to get a grip and write about things that actually mattered. Thinking about that led him to thinking about the potion Snape had mentioned in his last letter. Harry wandered off (taking the mug and plate with him) and settled in the sitting room upstairs. His eyes roamed over the books, looking for one about potions that would include the All Round Potion. He dragged out a couple of tomes before he found one that was useful. He sat down and wriggled until the cushion was comfortable. Then he pulled the heavy volume onto his lap and began to read.
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Harry Potter and the Expert Potions Master