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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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Chapter 6 - Boxing Day

Harry had spent Boxing Day curled up in his chair, reading about the potion and considering the things he wanted to ask Snape about several of the ingredients. It was galling to have to wait to write because he didn't have a way of getting a letter to his one confidant. Nor could he write to Andromeda and ask after his Godson. He supposed, if he asked, Kreacher would carry a letter for him, but he didn't want to disturb Snape, and an owl dropping a piece of parchment into your lap was easier to ignore than a house elf attempting the same.

Unsurprisingly, none of the Weasleys had tried to contact him.

A stab of pain had knotted his stomach for a few moments when he thought of them, but also an uneasy relief that he no longer had to fight off Ginny's multiple attempts to manoeuvre him into sex.

Oddly enough, the previous night, in bed, Harry had wanked spectacularly and come so thoroughly he was half convinced his come had drilled into the ceiling. He hadn't been thinking of Ginny, he knew that much, but wasn't really sure what had captured his attention and brought on such an intense orgasm. He closed the book he was meant to be reading and considered: he'd gone to bed still angry and hurt about Ginny and his thoughts had turned to the letter he had written, and the advice from Hermione. After that he had considered buying a new owl and writing a letter to Snape to tell him about his new situation, but really, after that point the ache in his cock had taken over and he had had to touch himself or scream with frustration. He had taken the easier, and more pleasurable, course.

Now, sitting in the chair, he felt the discomfort of another erection. Whilst at the Burrow he'd hardly stiffened at all, except when Ginny had pushed the physical contact. Now he seemed to be making up for lost time. He scurried upstairs and unzipped even as he shut the door to the room he used. One hand plunged under his clothes as he lurched to the bed. A wonderful blankness came over him as he simply focused on the pleasure of a tight grip on his aching shaft.

His fingers dug tightly into his heated skin, and his palm rested against the pulsing vein, the swift thud of it throbbing against the flesh of his hand. Ginny's hand had tugged on him, he remembered, and it had made him release, but only because he had been so close. Wanting to draw out the pleasure he eased his grip and let his cock jerk a little in its constraints. Using his free hand he stroked under his top, sliding over his twitching stomach and up to his beaded nipples. One touch of them made his hips lurch and his dick leak fluid all over his fingers. A sob almost spilled from his lips as he touched the other sensitive nub and his cock throbbed, semen slicking the shaft.

His hand slid down. Undoing the button on his jeans, he pushed the denim apart and inched between his legs to cup his aching balls. He opened his legs to allow his hand more access. His one hand ran its thumb over his testicles, rubbing and fondling, whilst a finger from that hand slid under his balls and seemed to have come to rest at the entrance to his body. His other hand used the wetness on the dick to make jacking off easier. His hand twisted and tugged on his cock, his pelvis coming up completely off the bed. The finger down between his legs pressed into him as his hips snapped up and with each tug of the hand he felt the ache in his body intensify.

It was killing him.

The thumb on his balls pressed in almost painfully and he bit back a cry of agonised pleasure. His tip was throbbing and he imagined a mouth tight around it, a tongue digging into his slit. A tongue lashing at him, not with words as usual, but lashing him, drawing him closer and closer to climax. His fingers dug in and he sobbed, feeling the rush of orgasm approaching. His ass was clenching next to his other digits and he gasped, hips pumping, imagination filled with a hot mouth sucking him all the way while something pressed into him and he screamed.

Hot sticky seed spurted out of him, a fountain of semen that gushed up before falling onto his hand and spattering his top and jeans.

The rush of release gone, he shamefacedly pulled his hand off his cock, and tugged the other one out of his underwear. He shifted, feeling some discomfort between his legs. He hurt, almost as though something had been pushed into him whilst he had been touching himself.

But that couldn't be the case. He'd been rubbing down there, yes, but he certainly hadn't stuck a finger in himself, had he? His face screwed up. That would be disgusting.

Whatever had caused the ache in his bottom, he certainly needed a shower to clean up the mess he had made of himself.

But not right now. Lassitude swept over him and he yawned. Good orgasm always wiped him out.

He slept.

A tap at his door awoke him and he felt the grim sensation of dried fluids clinging to his skin like dried glue. His clothes clung uncomfortably to him.

“Hang on.” Harry called. Horrified that someone would be visiting, and they'd see him like this.

“Master?” Kreacher's voice was such a relief Harry dropped back onto the bed.

“Kreacher!” Harry gasped with relief, then squeaked in shame as the door knob began to turn. His eyes widened, God, he really didn't want Kreacher to see him like this!

“I'm - I'm not dressed, Kreacher.” Harry called, looking at his unbuttoned jeans, the boxers gaping, dried semen flaking off his top. He could feel some tightness on his face and picked off the flakes of dried fluid there.

“Master, Kreacher has made some hot cocoa. Would Master like Kreacher to fetch him a cup?”

“That's great, Kreacher. I'll just have a quick shower and join you downstairs for the cocoa, if that's all right.” Harry really didn't want Kreacher to see him like this. He had no idea what the house elf had seen during his many long years of life, but Harry certainly didn't want him to add 'Master Harry covered in dried jizz' to his list. So he waited, almost not breathing, until he was sure the elf had gone before exiting the room and scurrying into a bathroom.

He showered and wet his clothes too so that when Kreacher came to wash them, he wouldn't wonder about the substances.

When Harry had first accepted life with a house elf, he had wondered how they could possibly do laundry, as the rules regarding freeing them were clear. However Ron had explained, “Mate,” he had said, “so long as the dirty clothes are always left in a designated place, the elf knows that they're for washing, not clothes to free him.” He had given Hermione a stern face, “And only the Master or the Master's family can hand an elf clothes, so don't you go leaving clothes out hoping to free him without his consent!”

Hermione had glared, but a tinge of red in both cheeks had told the two men that that had been exactly what she had intended doing. “Well,” she had huffed, “at Hogwarts the elves refused to come into Gryffindor, you remember, as they didn't want to risk picking up clothes? So how did that work?”

“All of us were the elves masters at Hogwarts. Any one of us could have called for an elf and it would have obeyed. But I'd like to see you call for Kreacher!”

Hermione had pursed her lips together. “I don't like it, Ron,” she sniffed, “but all right.”

Harry wrapped a towel around his middle and dumped the clothes in the laundry basket. Having a strict rule ensured he put his dirty laundry in the correct places. He imagined that if he didn't drop his clothes into the baskets, Kreacher would ignore them.

It was the matter of a few moments to pull on his pyjamas and a dressing gown before sliding his feet into slippers and joining Kreacher in the kitchen for a hot drink before bed. Not that he felt sleepy, he was wide awake after having had a nap. He looked at the clock – it had been a sleep, not a nap. He had lost two hours!

The cocoa was very hot and very sweet and it tasted delicious. He told Kreacher so, and thanked him for making it.

“Kreacher is glad to make Master happy.”

“Kreacher,” Harry said, feeling his good mood evaporate, “why do you always call me 'Master'? I don't want it. I don't need it! Can't you just call me Harry?”

Kreacher stared up at Harry. “Is Master ordering Kreacher?”

“No. No, I'm not. No more orders, Kreacher, unless I have to. No, I'm asking.”

“Kreacher will think about it, Master.” the elf said and Harry was tempted to smack his head against the table.

“You do that,” he ground out through gritted teeth.

As he was wide awake, he went back up to the sitting room and had another look at the All Round potion, trying to understand the purpose behind each ingredient. He supposed the best way to master a potion like that was to actually go to the trouble of making it.

He let the book's pages turn and read wherever they stopped. After reading about some very strange and unusual potions, he flicked to the index and looked up healing potions. Three were mentioned and he settled firmly to read up on each one, ready to pester Snape with more questions. Harry smiled at the thought of annoying Snape.

His smile faded as he realised he was, yet again, hard.

Bloody hell! I wasn't this bad even in fifth year, and a breeze set me off a few times! Harry gritted his teeth and ignored the throbbing between his legs. He wasn't an animal, he could ignore it.

He couldn't.

His focus scattered, then narrowed and centred on the aching length pressing against his stomach. He drew a half dozen deep breaths and forced himself to read the details of one of the potions. Even the damned instructions seemed to be turning him on!

Handle each length carefully to ensure no leakage.

Harry moaned and squeezed his eyes shut before carrying on.

Once each length has been thrust swiftly into the hole you previously formed in the crease between the 'cheeks' of the fruit, ease out and allow to ooze as wanted. This stage is important to allow the excess juices to run free.

After, discard the used peach and add the leaking lengths to your mixture. The lengths of willow bark, if allowed to release their fluids, can grant relief even when not added to this potion.

Harry swallowed. He swore the damned book knew he was horny as hell and was taunting him. Groaning, he gave up and closed the tome. He wrapped his dressing gown more firmly around him, determined not to touch himself again so soon.

He gazed into the fire, trying to lose himself in thought: Sirius had spoken to him out of a fire. He'd not done it often, which was a good thing as it was agony on your knees! Harry pictured himself on his knees, his tongue lapping at a man's cock.

He jerked upright. That wasn't right! He hadn't just thought that! He must have dozed off for a few moments, and his brain had made an odd connection that had no basis in reality. Certainly, he told himself firmly, I have no interest in sucking anyone's cock!

No matter how firmly he stated it inside his head, a nagging voice seemed to add, Except one.
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- 8
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Harry Potter and the Expert Potions Master