[Fic] Potent Rewards 1/6 (R) HP: HP/SS
Title: Potent Rewards
Author: faynia and stormypup
Pairing: Snape/Harry
Rating: R
Categories: Romance, Drama, Angst, Humor
Warnings: Dubious consent, Harry is still 17
Summary: The final battle is over and Snape is ready to collect his reward, but is he ready for the consequences that come with it?
A/N: I'd like to thank my beta-reader hannibal_topaz for doing another lovely job! *big kisses to her*
Chapter One
The celebration at 12 Grimmauld Place had been going on for some time now, and Severus Snape wanted nothing more than to leave. The Dark Lord was dead, and it was certainly worth celebrating, but Snape was not in a mind to celebrate.
He had yet to claim his victory prize.
The only reason he was there at all was because of the small vial in his pocket. The odorless, tasteless, potion that just needed to be tipped into Potter's drink-if the adoring masses would leave the boy alone for five minutes!
Snape knew he should have followed his instincts and slipped it to Potter while he was still in the infirmary, and then he never would have to attend this party at all. Now he was stuck, waiting on Potter, as per usual. "Blasted boy," he growled, sipping at his fire whiskey.
He watched as Molly called her youngest boy over, leaving Harry alone. Finally.
Severus made his way to Potter, who was looking at the spread of food on the table before him. There were various meats and cheeses along with an assortment of crackers for people to nibble on. He sidled up beside Harry, feigning interest in the food.
"Hullo Professor," Harry said, giving him an awkward smile. He may have saved the boy's arse, yet again, but he couldn't imagine they would ever be friends.
Not yet anyway.
"Potter," he acknowledge, surveying the food. One hand was in the pocket of his robe, fondling the vial. He scanned the room for Moody, his only real worry, the only one clever enough to pay attention to Snape. He was in deep conversation across the room with Lupin and Charlie Weasley.
His thumb popped the top off the vial as he glanced at Harry's nearly full glass of punch, then back at the room at large. It was almost too perfect when the moment finally came. It couldn't have gone better had it been planned himself.
The moment Tonks entered the room holding a tray full of puddings, he knew he had his chance. Molly rushed to her side to take the tray before something 'tragic' could happen, but she was too late. Distracted by Molly's shout, Tonks turned to her, but her feet kept going forward. She inevitably stumbled, causing the tray to go flying, and there were a room full of spells shooting her direction to catch the tray.
He deftly tipped the potion into Harry's punch, and walked away, fading back into the shadows of the room. He stayed long enough to watch Potter drink the punch, and without another word to anyone, he left the party, a predatory smile on his face.
*****
Sunlight streamed into the Gryffindor boy's tower illuminating the only figure still laying in bed. Harry Potter did not know that he was currently sleeping through breakfast, nor did he know that if he remained in bed for another fifteen minutes he'd be late for his first NEWTS potion's class for his 7th year. This problem would seem a lot less terrifying if he hadn't had to beg, on his knees, that summer for Snape to take him back into his class. He'd have to take real Remedial Potions after hours just to catch up to the point he was supposed to be at.
"Harry! Harry what are you still doing in bed?!"
Harry groaned and rolled over towards the window. He groaned louder and opened one eye to glare at the rising sun.
"Harry get up!" Hermione shrieked. "You're going to be late! Do you want Snape to-"
"FUCK!" Harry catapulted out of bed and scrambled around to his trunk. How could he have been so stupid? Snape was going to kill him, and he couldn't afford to get on Snape's bad side this early on in the school year. Hell, Snape had no reason to be even slightly nice to him anymore. With the war over he was just another annoying student "Don't just stand there and glare at me, Hermione. Help me find my tie!"
"Well, where did you see it last?" she asked, getting down on her hands and knees to look under the closest bed.
Harry pulled his head out of the trunk and stripped out of his pajama top, not even giving Hermione the chance to look away. He pulled on his wrinkled white collared shirt and haphazardly did the buttons. He was just glad that Snape didn't dock points for imprecise dress, because he sure as hell didn’t have time to fix the buttons. Grabbing his pants, he motioned for Hermione to turn around with one finger. She huffed and rolled her eyes, muttering, but she did as commanded.
He pulled on his pants and began tucking in his shirt as he turned around. "Go ahead," he told her, motioning toward the door, "no sense in both of us being late."
"But your tie -"
Harry waved her off. "Thanks for waking me, now go!" he told her.
"Hurry!" she warned, but left the dormitory, closing the door behind her.
Harry sat on the bed and tugged on his trainers, his eyes scanning the room. "Yes!" he said triumphantly, spotted one of Dean's ties hanging on his bedpost. Grabbing the tie and his bag, Harry made a mad dash for the dungeon.
He didn't slow down until he hit the corridor before the potion's classroom. He could already hear Snape talking and sighed heavily. Maybe he could just sneak in the back and he wouldn't be noticed. He nodded to himself. It was a perfect plan. No one ever sat in the back of these classes...right?
He peered into the half empty classroom, still unaccustomed to the smaller class sizes 7th years had. It also meant unless he had suddenly discovered Dumbledore's trick to being invisible without a cloak, he was screwed.
Well, he wasn't going to get off easily this time, even if he was only three minutes late. Squaring his shoulders, and hefting his bag higher onto his shoulder, he entered the classroom, hoping he didn't look as winded as he felt.
Snape was facing the board, reading aloud the expectations for his NEWT-level potions class. "You will be expected to spend time in the lab outside of class time if you wish to pass this class," he didn't have to turn around to know that Potter had finally arrived, "and that will be 15 points from Gryffindor," he said, not even breaking stride as he turned to face the class.
His eyes traveled over Potter, taking a quick inventory of the boy. Wrinkled shirt, tie askew, face flushed, panting slightly. He allowed his lip to curl in displeasure, ignoring the tightening in his groin. “You, of all people, Potter,” he said, bracing his hands on his desk, “cannot afford to be even a second late to this class. You will fail” He locked eyes with Harry for a moment before looking over the rest of the class.
"Turn to page seven in your textbooks," he said, dismissing the matter. "You will be making simple calming draughts, something even a first year can do," he said, his expression telling them all he thought they were incapable of even that. "These will be used by Madame Pomfrey and I expect them to be to my standard. If they are not, you will receive a zero, and if you receive five zeros in the term, you will be expelled from this class," he said, focusing once again on Harry.
"Begin!"
Harry slunk into an open seat in the back of the room and sighed. He could still feel Snape's gaze on him as if it had never left, but it had left. Harry was staring quite openly at Snape who was not looking back. This was a nightmare, why had he thought that working together to bring about the demise of Voldemort would ever change their relationship? His skin felt clammy and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Quickly, and quietly he pulled out his potions text, grateful that he had the entire workbench to himself.
Snape watched as the students got out their texts and various ingredients. He bent over his desk, his stringy hair obscuring his face, allowing him to watch Potter work. Each ingredient was carefully measured, and he was pleased to see Potter double check the book before adding each ingredient. It would be a shame to have to kick the boy out of class too soon. Part of the fun was going to be watching the potion slowly take affect. Of course, if all else failed, there was always detention.
Harry carefully placed in the last ingredient with fear. This, if he succeeded, would be the first successful potion he had brewed in well...forever really. He couldn't understand why he was so focused on getting it right. It wasn't like Snape would ever admit he had done the potion right, but maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to avoid getting a detention the first class of the year. It would be a miracle, no doubt.
He picked up the stirring rod and slowly stirred the potion counterclockwise for 3 minutes, 3 mind-numbing minutes, before he placed it beside the cauldron and lowered the flame. He had to wait exactly a half an hour before he could decant the potion and clean up. The class ended in 40 minutes, glancing around he was satisfied to see everyone else finishing off and turning down their flames as well. He was on time and he was inordinately pleased with himself.
Seeing the majority of students putting aside their potions, he began walking among the tables, study the color of each potion. In general, his NEWT-level classes were usually able to complete their first assignment with minimal fuss, and this year was no exception. He actually enjoyed teaching when he wasn't forced to work with imbeciles and idiots.
He walked up behind Harry, standing close enough that their robes brushed against one another. "Barely passable," he said softly, his breath warm against Harry's ear. "You are treading on very thin ice, Mister Potter," he reminded.
Harry's mouth dropped open and he shot a worried glance over at Hermione's potion to see how far off the color was and it wasn't at all. It was the same bloody shade of blue. He turned in his seat to tell Snape just what he thought of this unfair treatment when something stopped him. He suddenly couldn't breathe at all. He felt compelled to apologize and-he shuddered-call Snape his master. He quickly turned back to his potion.
"I'm sorry, m-sir. I'll try harder next time."
"See that you do," Snape replied, then turned and walked away, robes billowing behind him. A feeling of triumph coursed through his veins, though his face was expressionless. "If done correctly, you should have enough in your cauldron's for ten vials of potion for use in the infirmary. You will fill those ten vials and leave them on your tables. Any questions? Good," he said before any questions could be asked. "You will write a two foot essay on the various uses of the Calming Draught, due next lesson."
"Harry, are you all right you look a bit peaky."
Harry smiled wanly and shouldered his bag as he made to leave the Potion's classroom. "I'm all right."
"Are you sure?" she asked, worriedly touching his arm. "You look like you've swallowed a Billywig."
"Potter," Snape said, not looking up from his desk, "stay. Alone," he added, lifting dark eyes to Hermione.
Harry sighed and patted Hermione's hand awkwardly. "I'll see you later, Hermione." He glanced over at Snape before taking a step closer to her. "Save me a seat in Transfiguration. I don't want to be alone in a class again."
Snape waited until Granger had left the room before walking around the desk to stand in front of Potter. He made certain to violate the boy's personal space. "It is my understanding that not only am I forced to take you into my class, but I am also forced to allow you to attend my remedial potions class," he said, walking in a slow circle around Harry.
"That class was intended for younger students who fell behind due to issues beyond their control, unlike you who are merely an idiot," he growled. "Tonight, 7:00, do not be late."
"Yes sir," Harry said calmly as possible, which wasn't very calmly at all. He grit his teeth and nodded curtly. "Is that all, professor?"
Snape looked Harry up and down. "You will also take more care with your appearance," he said, lip curled in disgust. His statement was more a test to see how far the potion had progressed than any real care about the boys clothing.
Harry blinked slowly. "My what, sir?"
"Your appearance, Potter," Snape said, exaggerating each syllable. "You will not come to class looking like you slept in your clothes."
Harry looked down at his clothing knowing he should feel offended, very offended and possibly worried that Snape was looking at his clothing. Compelled to apologize, he blurted out, "I’m sorry! Please don't take house points, sir."
Snape nodded. "Do not let it happen again," Snape replied. "Dismissed," he said, turning on his heel, a pleased smirk on his face. Things were progressing very well indeed.
*****
Harry tried not to think about the conversation again for the rest of the day, but he couldn't ignore it the following. Despite the oddness in the situation, he had to call upon Dobby the day before to make sure all his clothing were neat and tidy for the following day of school. He wanted to impress Snape and though the idea of it made him sick, he just couldn’t ignore the command. It was almost...painful to try. Which he had- he had tried to all the way to the kitchen when he went to ask Dobby and he tried all the next morning as he paid painstaking attention to the details of his clothing. Not one button was misbuttoned, his tie was on properly, heck even his shoes were shining like they had when he first bought them.
He raked his fingers through his wet black hair trying to get it to settle into something resembling order.
"It's a lost cause, dearie."
Harry glared at the mirror. "What do you know."
The mirror clucked sympathetically. "Your hair is just like your father’s. Not even the finest products could make it stay down."
Arm poised to rake through his hair again, he turned fully towards the mirror addressing him. "Nothing worked, nothing at all?"
"Well, he did get it to stay down once, but it was some gooblydee gook of a spell and in the end his hair went a rather fetching shade of green."
"Right, nothing works then."
"Sorry, dearie."
Harry sighed, his arm slumping down to his side. He checked himself over in the mirror one last time, before heading out of the boy’s dormitory and into the crowded common room. He suddenly wished he had taken his invisibility cloak with him, because he certainly didn't want to tell anyone that he had to take remedial potions again, or why he looked so pressed and clean when that morning he'd dressed like he had the morning before.
"Where you off to then?" Ron called from his seat on the couch beside Hermione. Hermione hit Ron on the arm making the red head flinch. "What was that for?"
"For being insensitive."
"Insensitive? How was asking Harry where he's going insensitive?"
Hermione huffed and picked up her Charm's textbook and buried her nose within the pages. "Boys," she muttered.
"What'd I say?" Ron asked, looking between Harry and Hermione. "Talk about sensitive," he said, getting to his feet before Hermione hit him again.
Ron actually took a moment to take in Harry's appearance. "Wow, you got a date or something? Why didn't ya tell me?" His eyes widened and he looked around the room. "It's not Ginny is it?"
Harry glared at the book Hermione had engrossed herself in before shaking his head. "No, not Ginny, no."
Ron stared at him disbelievingly. "Then who, mate? Don't leave me hanging here."
"I don't have a date, Ron," Harry hissed under his breath, "I've got Remedial Potions with Snape."
"What? Still?" Ron yelped in reply, but toned himself down under Harry's dirty look. "Bad lot of luck that is."
"Yeah, but I actually need it this time if I want to stay in Snape's class, it's not the other Remedial Potions."
Ron whistled low. "Least he won't be rummaging through your head anymore."
"Yeah," Harry agreed, feeling more relieved than he would have thought he would have been. "I'll be back in two hours."
"Good luck with that." Ron clapped him on the back and Harry stumbled forward slightly.
"Thanks, I'm going to need that." Straightening his robe, he headed out of the common room and down towards the dungeons. It was going to be a long walk, one he'd normally go faster for, but he had to keep his appearance tidy and damn it he would.
*****
Snape sat at his desk, his pocket watch out, watching the seconds tick away. Potter had 45 more seconds before he would be technically late. He had yet to decide whether it would be more enjoyable to punish him on his first night, or not, when Harry entered the classroom.
Snape snapped the pocket watch closed.
Harry didn't want to scurry the last few steps, but being late again with Snape would be bad, bad, bad. Glancing at his watch, he picked up the pace to an almost full out run and managed to squeak through the door just as his watch hit seven o'clock and the clock in the classroom rang out the hour. He sighed and adjusted his robes, brushing off imaginary lint before walking forward and stopping in front of Snape's desk.
Snape said nothing as Potter stood before, letting nearly a minute pass before he spoke. While the boy fidgeted and looked nervous, he did nothing to break the silence. Finally, Snape spoke.
"I hope you appreciate the fact that I am taking a night out of my week to teach you things you would know already, had you paid the least bit of attention in my classes for the last six years," he said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. "It would appear that McGonagall is as lenient with you as Dumbledore has been. Tell me, Potter, why is it you garner so many considerations, while other students are left to actually work?"
Harry's mouth dropped open and a tiny voice in the back of his mind asked him what he had honestly expected. He closed his mouth and shook his head, shrugging uncertainly.
"I have no idea, Professor."
Snape snorted. "At least you have dressed appropriately, even if you are completely clueless. Come with me," he said, pushing back his chair and standing up. He led Harry to the ingredients cabinet on the far side of the room. With a wave of his wand, the doors unlocked and opened gently.
"Tonight, you will go through the student stores and identify the most often-used potion ingredients. It should take no more than an hour. When you have finished that, bring your list to me and I will give you your next assignment." He looked at Harry for a moment, and when no questions were forthcoming, he gave him a curt nod and returned to his desk.
Harry didn't even nod. He didn't trust himself to not blurt out something incriminating, since he couldn't even seem to stand up for himself anymore. What the hell was wrong with him? He let Snape walk all over him and he hadn't done a thing to stop him. He had wanted him to walk all over him. Maybe something had happened when he had killed Voldemort. Maybe he was cursed, or worse, maybe he was slipping just like everyone had expected it to. He just had to make sure no of importance noticed the odd way he became subdued under Snape's commands.
It didn't help that he was achingly hard as well. That problem was more worrisome, because, while he was 17 this hadn't happened since he was 14. He did not get random erections anymore. It just wasn't done.
He entered the student storeroom and half shuffled, half walked to the far end of the closet, certain that if he turned at all Snape would see his problem and ridicule him more. And with the way he had been responding to Snape tonight, he'd probably blurt out something horrifyingly embarrassing, like he could only get it up when thinking about the great greasy bat himself. No, some conversations were best left unsaid and he had a task to attend to, and that was the last he thought of his problems and behavior as he scanned the shelves looking for ingredients that were immediately familiar.
It took him about 37 minutes to find all the ones he could think of off the top of his head and another 10 to list them all and recheck the list to make sure he hadn't missed one of the mainly used ingredients, imagine if he forgot something as stupid as shrivelfig.
List in hand and feeling confident that he hadn't missed any, he exited the storeroom and went to stand in front of Snape's desk.
Snape didn't even bother to look up from his papers, merely held out his hand for Harry's list. He scanned it quickly then tossed it into the garbage bin next to his desk. He interlaced his fingers together and placed his elbows on the desk, looking at Harry thoughtfully. Snape took his time, eyes traveling down Harry's body, admiring the corded muscle in his neck, down passed his sweater. Potter's pants were still crisp and smooth across his firm thighs, and though he wasn't entirely certain, it looked like the boy was actually aroused.
His eyes traveled back to Harry's face, which was now flushed. Snape kept his expression neutral as he said, "Mr. Filch has apparently run low on Doxycide. It was a potion you should have been able to make last year. I seem to recall that you failed miserably in the attempt. Tonight, you will try again and you will stay until you have done it correctly."
"Yes, sir." Harry inclined his head and scooted away from Snape's desk and scrutinizing gaze as fast as he could.
Snape watched as Harry thumbed through his potion book, stopping when he found the right page. He divided his attention between Harry and the papers on his desk for a time before deciding the boy needed help were he ever to succeed in making the potion correctly.
Pushing back from his desk, he stood and walked to the table and looked into the cauldron. "It's not dark enough, add more boomslang skin."
Harry looked up and nodded before carefully slicing another piece up then put them into the potion and stirred it in. He stepped back and watched as the potion turned to a deep shade of black.
"How do you always know that?" Harry asked, quite forgetting whom he was talking to. "I mean, how do you always know what to add to stabilize or change the consistency or color? It's not in any textbook I've ever read." His eyes widened and he bit his lip, struggling not to bow his head in shame.
Snape was genuinely surprised by the question and thought for a moment before answering.
"How do you know when to pull up from a dive on your broom?"
Harry shrugged, looking a bit sheepish. "I don't know, I just do."
"It's called instinct, Potter. Instinct combined with experience and experimentation has allowed me to become a Master of Potions. Mistakes are acceptable when you learn from them," he said, looking down his nose at Potter. "You, Mister Potter, never seem to learn from your mistakes, you just continue to repeat them. Stir," he said, nodding at toward the cauldron.
"Shi-, er, sorry," Harry said, stirring the potion quickly.
"Stop!" Snape said, shaking his head. He reached out wrapped his long fingers around Harry's hand. "Counterclockwise," he said, shifting over to stand behind Harry. "Slowly with sure, smooth, strokes," he said against Harry's ear.
Harry swallowed convulsively as he let his hand by moved. Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit. If Snape hadn't known before one look down would surely tell him now and Merlin how he wanted Snape to look, to see how much he yearned to be touched there- and he suddenly wanted to vomit all over the place.
He did not fancy Snape, did not, did not, did not!
Snape could feel the heat radiating from Potter, could almost taste his arousal. He let himself enjoy it for a moment before stepping back, face impassive. "It's passable. Barely," he said, stepping around Potter and returning to his desk and sitting down. "There are containers on the shelf, fill them and go. I will expect a one foot essay on the effects of Doxycide in pest control next week."
Snape bent his head over his desk, hiding a smile of triumph. One day soon, Potter would be gagging for it, and oh, it would be sweet.
Author: faynia and stormypup
Pairing: Snape/Harry
Rating: R
Categories: Romance, Drama, Angst, Humor
Warnings: Dubious consent, Harry is still 17
Summary: The final battle is over and Snape is ready to collect his reward, but is he ready for the consequences that come with it?
A/N: I'd like to thank my beta-reader hannibal_topaz for doing another lovely job! *big kisses to her*
Chapter One
The celebration at 12 Grimmauld Place had been going on for some time now, and Severus Snape wanted nothing more than to leave. The Dark Lord was dead, and it was certainly worth celebrating, but Snape was not in a mind to celebrate.
He had yet to claim his victory prize.
The only reason he was there at all was because of the small vial in his pocket. The odorless, tasteless, potion that just needed to be tipped into Potter's drink-if the adoring masses would leave the boy alone for five minutes!
Snape knew he should have followed his instincts and slipped it to Potter while he was still in the infirmary, and then he never would have to attend this party at all. Now he was stuck, waiting on Potter, as per usual. "Blasted boy," he growled, sipping at his fire whiskey.
He watched as Molly called her youngest boy over, leaving Harry alone. Finally.
Severus made his way to Potter, who was looking at the spread of food on the table before him. There were various meats and cheeses along with an assortment of crackers for people to nibble on. He sidled up beside Harry, feigning interest in the food.
"Hullo Professor," Harry said, giving him an awkward smile. He may have saved the boy's arse, yet again, but he couldn't imagine they would ever be friends.
Not yet anyway.
"Potter," he acknowledge, surveying the food. One hand was in the pocket of his robe, fondling the vial. He scanned the room for Moody, his only real worry, the only one clever enough to pay attention to Snape. He was in deep conversation across the room with Lupin and Charlie Weasley.
His thumb popped the top off the vial as he glanced at Harry's nearly full glass of punch, then back at the room at large. It was almost too perfect when the moment finally came. It couldn't have gone better had it been planned himself.
The moment Tonks entered the room holding a tray full of puddings, he knew he had his chance. Molly rushed to her side to take the tray before something 'tragic' could happen, but she was too late. Distracted by Molly's shout, Tonks turned to her, but her feet kept going forward. She inevitably stumbled, causing the tray to go flying, and there were a room full of spells shooting her direction to catch the tray.
He deftly tipped the potion into Harry's punch, and walked away, fading back into the shadows of the room. He stayed long enough to watch Potter drink the punch, and without another word to anyone, he left the party, a predatory smile on his face.
*****
Sunlight streamed into the Gryffindor boy's tower illuminating the only figure still laying in bed. Harry Potter did not know that he was currently sleeping through breakfast, nor did he know that if he remained in bed for another fifteen minutes he'd be late for his first NEWTS potion's class for his 7th year. This problem would seem a lot less terrifying if he hadn't had to beg, on his knees, that summer for Snape to take him back into his class. He'd have to take real Remedial Potions after hours just to catch up to the point he was supposed to be at.
"Harry! Harry what are you still doing in bed?!"
Harry groaned and rolled over towards the window. He groaned louder and opened one eye to glare at the rising sun.
"Harry get up!" Hermione shrieked. "You're going to be late! Do you want Snape to-"
"FUCK!" Harry catapulted out of bed and scrambled around to his trunk. How could he have been so stupid? Snape was going to kill him, and he couldn't afford to get on Snape's bad side this early on in the school year. Hell, Snape had no reason to be even slightly nice to him anymore. With the war over he was just another annoying student "Don't just stand there and glare at me, Hermione. Help me find my tie!"
"Well, where did you see it last?" she asked, getting down on her hands and knees to look under the closest bed.
Harry pulled his head out of the trunk and stripped out of his pajama top, not even giving Hermione the chance to look away. He pulled on his wrinkled white collared shirt and haphazardly did the buttons. He was just glad that Snape didn't dock points for imprecise dress, because he sure as hell didn’t have time to fix the buttons. Grabbing his pants, he motioned for Hermione to turn around with one finger. She huffed and rolled her eyes, muttering, but she did as commanded.
He pulled on his pants and began tucking in his shirt as he turned around. "Go ahead," he told her, motioning toward the door, "no sense in both of us being late."
"But your tie -"
Harry waved her off. "Thanks for waking me, now go!" he told her.
"Hurry!" she warned, but left the dormitory, closing the door behind her.
Harry sat on the bed and tugged on his trainers, his eyes scanning the room. "Yes!" he said triumphantly, spotted one of Dean's ties hanging on his bedpost. Grabbing the tie and his bag, Harry made a mad dash for the dungeon.
He didn't slow down until he hit the corridor before the potion's classroom. He could already hear Snape talking and sighed heavily. Maybe he could just sneak in the back and he wouldn't be noticed. He nodded to himself. It was a perfect plan. No one ever sat in the back of these classes...right?
He peered into the half empty classroom, still unaccustomed to the smaller class sizes 7th years had. It also meant unless he had suddenly discovered Dumbledore's trick to being invisible without a cloak, he was screwed.
Well, he wasn't going to get off easily this time, even if he was only three minutes late. Squaring his shoulders, and hefting his bag higher onto his shoulder, he entered the classroom, hoping he didn't look as winded as he felt.
Snape was facing the board, reading aloud the expectations for his NEWT-level potions class. "You will be expected to spend time in the lab outside of class time if you wish to pass this class," he didn't have to turn around to know that Potter had finally arrived, "and that will be 15 points from Gryffindor," he said, not even breaking stride as he turned to face the class.
His eyes traveled over Potter, taking a quick inventory of the boy. Wrinkled shirt, tie askew, face flushed, panting slightly. He allowed his lip to curl in displeasure, ignoring the tightening in his groin. “You, of all people, Potter,” he said, bracing his hands on his desk, “cannot afford to be even a second late to this class. You will fail” He locked eyes with Harry for a moment before looking over the rest of the class.
"Turn to page seven in your textbooks," he said, dismissing the matter. "You will be making simple calming draughts, something even a first year can do," he said, his expression telling them all he thought they were incapable of even that. "These will be used by Madame Pomfrey and I expect them to be to my standard. If they are not, you will receive a zero, and if you receive five zeros in the term, you will be expelled from this class," he said, focusing once again on Harry.
"Begin!"
Harry slunk into an open seat in the back of the room and sighed. He could still feel Snape's gaze on him as if it had never left, but it had left. Harry was staring quite openly at Snape who was not looking back. This was a nightmare, why had he thought that working together to bring about the demise of Voldemort would ever change their relationship? His skin felt clammy and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Quickly, and quietly he pulled out his potions text, grateful that he had the entire workbench to himself.
Snape watched as the students got out their texts and various ingredients. He bent over his desk, his stringy hair obscuring his face, allowing him to watch Potter work. Each ingredient was carefully measured, and he was pleased to see Potter double check the book before adding each ingredient. It would be a shame to have to kick the boy out of class too soon. Part of the fun was going to be watching the potion slowly take affect. Of course, if all else failed, there was always detention.
Harry carefully placed in the last ingredient with fear. This, if he succeeded, would be the first successful potion he had brewed in well...forever really. He couldn't understand why he was so focused on getting it right. It wasn't like Snape would ever admit he had done the potion right, but maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to avoid getting a detention the first class of the year. It would be a miracle, no doubt.
He picked up the stirring rod and slowly stirred the potion counterclockwise for 3 minutes, 3 mind-numbing minutes, before he placed it beside the cauldron and lowered the flame. He had to wait exactly a half an hour before he could decant the potion and clean up. The class ended in 40 minutes, glancing around he was satisfied to see everyone else finishing off and turning down their flames as well. He was on time and he was inordinately pleased with himself.
Seeing the majority of students putting aside their potions, he began walking among the tables, study the color of each potion. In general, his NEWT-level classes were usually able to complete their first assignment with minimal fuss, and this year was no exception. He actually enjoyed teaching when he wasn't forced to work with imbeciles and idiots.
He walked up behind Harry, standing close enough that their robes brushed against one another. "Barely passable," he said softly, his breath warm against Harry's ear. "You are treading on very thin ice, Mister Potter," he reminded.
Harry's mouth dropped open and he shot a worried glance over at Hermione's potion to see how far off the color was and it wasn't at all. It was the same bloody shade of blue. He turned in his seat to tell Snape just what he thought of this unfair treatment when something stopped him. He suddenly couldn't breathe at all. He felt compelled to apologize and-he shuddered-call Snape his master. He quickly turned back to his potion.
"I'm sorry, m-sir. I'll try harder next time."
"See that you do," Snape replied, then turned and walked away, robes billowing behind him. A feeling of triumph coursed through his veins, though his face was expressionless. "If done correctly, you should have enough in your cauldron's for ten vials of potion for use in the infirmary. You will fill those ten vials and leave them on your tables. Any questions? Good," he said before any questions could be asked. "You will write a two foot essay on the various uses of the Calming Draught, due next lesson."
"Harry, are you all right you look a bit peaky."
Harry smiled wanly and shouldered his bag as he made to leave the Potion's classroom. "I'm all right."
"Are you sure?" she asked, worriedly touching his arm. "You look like you've swallowed a Billywig."
"Potter," Snape said, not looking up from his desk, "stay. Alone," he added, lifting dark eyes to Hermione.
Harry sighed and patted Hermione's hand awkwardly. "I'll see you later, Hermione." He glanced over at Snape before taking a step closer to her. "Save me a seat in Transfiguration. I don't want to be alone in a class again."
Snape waited until Granger had left the room before walking around the desk to stand in front of Potter. He made certain to violate the boy's personal space. "It is my understanding that not only am I forced to take you into my class, but I am also forced to allow you to attend my remedial potions class," he said, walking in a slow circle around Harry.
"That class was intended for younger students who fell behind due to issues beyond their control, unlike you who are merely an idiot," he growled. "Tonight, 7:00, do not be late."
"Yes sir," Harry said calmly as possible, which wasn't very calmly at all. He grit his teeth and nodded curtly. "Is that all, professor?"
Snape looked Harry up and down. "You will also take more care with your appearance," he said, lip curled in disgust. His statement was more a test to see how far the potion had progressed than any real care about the boys clothing.
Harry blinked slowly. "My what, sir?"
"Your appearance, Potter," Snape said, exaggerating each syllable. "You will not come to class looking like you slept in your clothes."
Harry looked down at his clothing knowing he should feel offended, very offended and possibly worried that Snape was looking at his clothing. Compelled to apologize, he blurted out, "I’m sorry! Please don't take house points, sir."
Snape nodded. "Do not let it happen again," Snape replied. "Dismissed," he said, turning on his heel, a pleased smirk on his face. Things were progressing very well indeed.
*****
Harry tried not to think about the conversation again for the rest of the day, but he couldn't ignore it the following. Despite the oddness in the situation, he had to call upon Dobby the day before to make sure all his clothing were neat and tidy for the following day of school. He wanted to impress Snape and though the idea of it made him sick, he just couldn’t ignore the command. It was almost...painful to try. Which he had- he had tried to all the way to the kitchen when he went to ask Dobby and he tried all the next morning as he paid painstaking attention to the details of his clothing. Not one button was misbuttoned, his tie was on properly, heck even his shoes were shining like they had when he first bought them.
He raked his fingers through his wet black hair trying to get it to settle into something resembling order.
"It's a lost cause, dearie."
Harry glared at the mirror. "What do you know."
The mirror clucked sympathetically. "Your hair is just like your father’s. Not even the finest products could make it stay down."
Arm poised to rake through his hair again, he turned fully towards the mirror addressing him. "Nothing worked, nothing at all?"
"Well, he did get it to stay down once, but it was some gooblydee gook of a spell and in the end his hair went a rather fetching shade of green."
"Right, nothing works then."
"Sorry, dearie."
Harry sighed, his arm slumping down to his side. He checked himself over in the mirror one last time, before heading out of the boy’s dormitory and into the crowded common room. He suddenly wished he had taken his invisibility cloak with him, because he certainly didn't want to tell anyone that he had to take remedial potions again, or why he looked so pressed and clean when that morning he'd dressed like he had the morning before.
"Where you off to then?" Ron called from his seat on the couch beside Hermione. Hermione hit Ron on the arm making the red head flinch. "What was that for?"
"For being insensitive."
"Insensitive? How was asking Harry where he's going insensitive?"
Hermione huffed and picked up her Charm's textbook and buried her nose within the pages. "Boys," she muttered.
"What'd I say?" Ron asked, looking between Harry and Hermione. "Talk about sensitive," he said, getting to his feet before Hermione hit him again.
Ron actually took a moment to take in Harry's appearance. "Wow, you got a date or something? Why didn't ya tell me?" His eyes widened and he looked around the room. "It's not Ginny is it?"
Harry glared at the book Hermione had engrossed herself in before shaking his head. "No, not Ginny, no."
Ron stared at him disbelievingly. "Then who, mate? Don't leave me hanging here."
"I don't have a date, Ron," Harry hissed under his breath, "I've got Remedial Potions with Snape."
"What? Still?" Ron yelped in reply, but toned himself down under Harry's dirty look. "Bad lot of luck that is."
"Yeah, but I actually need it this time if I want to stay in Snape's class, it's not the other Remedial Potions."
Ron whistled low. "Least he won't be rummaging through your head anymore."
"Yeah," Harry agreed, feeling more relieved than he would have thought he would have been. "I'll be back in two hours."
"Good luck with that." Ron clapped him on the back and Harry stumbled forward slightly.
"Thanks, I'm going to need that." Straightening his robe, he headed out of the common room and down towards the dungeons. It was going to be a long walk, one he'd normally go faster for, but he had to keep his appearance tidy and damn it he would.
*****
Snape sat at his desk, his pocket watch out, watching the seconds tick away. Potter had 45 more seconds before he would be technically late. He had yet to decide whether it would be more enjoyable to punish him on his first night, or not, when Harry entered the classroom.
Snape snapped the pocket watch closed.
Harry didn't want to scurry the last few steps, but being late again with Snape would be bad, bad, bad. Glancing at his watch, he picked up the pace to an almost full out run and managed to squeak through the door just as his watch hit seven o'clock and the clock in the classroom rang out the hour. He sighed and adjusted his robes, brushing off imaginary lint before walking forward and stopping in front of Snape's desk.
Snape said nothing as Potter stood before, letting nearly a minute pass before he spoke. While the boy fidgeted and looked nervous, he did nothing to break the silence. Finally, Snape spoke.
"I hope you appreciate the fact that I am taking a night out of my week to teach you things you would know already, had you paid the least bit of attention in my classes for the last six years," he said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. "It would appear that McGonagall is as lenient with you as Dumbledore has been. Tell me, Potter, why is it you garner so many considerations, while other students are left to actually work?"
Harry's mouth dropped open and a tiny voice in the back of his mind asked him what he had honestly expected. He closed his mouth and shook his head, shrugging uncertainly.
"I have no idea, Professor."
Snape snorted. "At least you have dressed appropriately, even if you are completely clueless. Come with me," he said, pushing back his chair and standing up. He led Harry to the ingredients cabinet on the far side of the room. With a wave of his wand, the doors unlocked and opened gently.
"Tonight, you will go through the student stores and identify the most often-used potion ingredients. It should take no more than an hour. When you have finished that, bring your list to me and I will give you your next assignment." He looked at Harry for a moment, and when no questions were forthcoming, he gave him a curt nod and returned to his desk.
Harry didn't even nod. He didn't trust himself to not blurt out something incriminating, since he couldn't even seem to stand up for himself anymore. What the hell was wrong with him? He let Snape walk all over him and he hadn't done a thing to stop him. He had wanted him to walk all over him. Maybe something had happened when he had killed Voldemort. Maybe he was cursed, or worse, maybe he was slipping just like everyone had expected it to. He just had to make sure no of importance noticed the odd way he became subdued under Snape's commands.
It didn't help that he was achingly hard as well. That problem was more worrisome, because, while he was 17 this hadn't happened since he was 14. He did not get random erections anymore. It just wasn't done.
He entered the student storeroom and half shuffled, half walked to the far end of the closet, certain that if he turned at all Snape would see his problem and ridicule him more. And with the way he had been responding to Snape tonight, he'd probably blurt out something horrifyingly embarrassing, like he could only get it up when thinking about the great greasy bat himself. No, some conversations were best left unsaid and he had a task to attend to, and that was the last he thought of his problems and behavior as he scanned the shelves looking for ingredients that were immediately familiar.
It took him about 37 minutes to find all the ones he could think of off the top of his head and another 10 to list them all and recheck the list to make sure he hadn't missed one of the mainly used ingredients, imagine if he forgot something as stupid as shrivelfig.
List in hand and feeling confident that he hadn't missed any, he exited the storeroom and went to stand in front of Snape's desk.
Snape didn't even bother to look up from his papers, merely held out his hand for Harry's list. He scanned it quickly then tossed it into the garbage bin next to his desk. He interlaced his fingers together and placed his elbows on the desk, looking at Harry thoughtfully. Snape took his time, eyes traveling down Harry's body, admiring the corded muscle in his neck, down passed his sweater. Potter's pants were still crisp and smooth across his firm thighs, and though he wasn't entirely certain, it looked like the boy was actually aroused.
His eyes traveled back to Harry's face, which was now flushed. Snape kept his expression neutral as he said, "Mr. Filch has apparently run low on Doxycide. It was a potion you should have been able to make last year. I seem to recall that you failed miserably in the attempt. Tonight, you will try again and you will stay until you have done it correctly."
"Yes, sir." Harry inclined his head and scooted away from Snape's desk and scrutinizing gaze as fast as he could.
Snape watched as Harry thumbed through his potion book, stopping when he found the right page. He divided his attention between Harry and the papers on his desk for a time before deciding the boy needed help were he ever to succeed in making the potion correctly.
Pushing back from his desk, he stood and walked to the table and looked into the cauldron. "It's not dark enough, add more boomslang skin."
Harry looked up and nodded before carefully slicing another piece up then put them into the potion and stirred it in. He stepped back and watched as the potion turned to a deep shade of black.
"How do you always know that?" Harry asked, quite forgetting whom he was talking to. "I mean, how do you always know what to add to stabilize or change the consistency or color? It's not in any textbook I've ever read." His eyes widened and he bit his lip, struggling not to bow his head in shame.
Snape was genuinely surprised by the question and thought for a moment before answering.
"How do you know when to pull up from a dive on your broom?"
Harry shrugged, looking a bit sheepish. "I don't know, I just do."
"It's called instinct, Potter. Instinct combined with experience and experimentation has allowed me to become a Master of Potions. Mistakes are acceptable when you learn from them," he said, looking down his nose at Potter. "You, Mister Potter, never seem to learn from your mistakes, you just continue to repeat them. Stir," he said, nodding at toward the cauldron.
"Shi-, er, sorry," Harry said, stirring the potion quickly.
"Stop!" Snape said, shaking his head. He reached out wrapped his long fingers around Harry's hand. "Counterclockwise," he said, shifting over to stand behind Harry. "Slowly with sure, smooth, strokes," he said against Harry's ear.
Harry swallowed convulsively as he let his hand by moved. Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit. If Snape hadn't known before one look down would surely tell him now and Merlin how he wanted Snape to look, to see how much he yearned to be touched there- and he suddenly wanted to vomit all over the place.
He did not fancy Snape, did not, did not, did not!
Snape could feel the heat radiating from Potter, could almost taste his arousal. He let himself enjoy it for a moment before stepping back, face impassive. "It's passable. Barely," he said, stepping around Potter and returning to his desk and sitting down. "There are containers on the shelf, fill them and go. I will expect a one foot essay on the effects of Doxycide in pest control next week."
Snape bent his head over his desk, hiding a smile of triumph. One day soon, Potter would be gagging for it, and oh, it would be sweet.