FIC: [Harry Potter] Extra Lessons [Harry/Snape; PG]

Title: Extra Lessons
Author: megyal
Requestor: reddwarfer
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry/Snape AU [canon: DH]
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 5371
Warnings: DH-compliant [to a certain point]/spoilers. Teacher/student.
Summary [Request]: Harry wants to seduce his teacher. The teacher doesn't mind.
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.
A/N: Un-beta'ed. Feel free to point out any mistakes. ETA: On-spot beta by regan_v.


Extra Lessons

---

Severus Snape pulled the thin cloak closer around his narrow shoulders, walking at his own pace through his house even as the wards pressed insistently, alerting him to someone waiting to be admitted. Draco was supposed to be here at ten and it was only half past nine; Narcissa must have managed to rouse him out of his rooms at an earlier hour.

He pressed a hand to the rough surface of the front door, and frowned. There were two people standing at his front door and neither of them was Draco. Neither was it the Ministry-appointed Auror assigned to do his weekly security checks, a complete waste of time in Severus’ opinion. Nevertheless, after a few scanning spells, he knew exactly who was standing in front of his abode and therefore had the proper sneer fixed on his face as he opened the narrow door to the Lioness and her Cub.

"Severus," McGonagall greeted him flatly, her mouth a thin line that barely moved as she spoke. "How are you." This last spoken in that same monotone, not questioning at all. Severus felt one corner of his mouth tilt up wryly.

"Would you like to really know, Minerva? Or are you asking for the sake of propriety?" She glared at him. "I am doing quite well, thank you for asking," he finished as smoothly as he could, watching as her cheeks became pink and the look in her eyes shaded down to dangerous. Potter stood beside her as if he was a world away, half-turned away and staring blankly down the tight line of terraced houses; the former white paint of the buildings was now a peeling, faded grey, the brown roof worn and missing some of the shingles. It was all fairly depressing.

Severus could safely say that he was quite comfortable living here. Happy, even.

"What do you want?" He did not invite them in. A cold wind skittered down the narrow, cobbled street, lifting the hem of McGonagall's crimson robe, pulling at the boy's overly long, messy black hair. "Ah, but let me guess. The Wizarding Debt."

He had wondered when they would come to claim that. That insufferable brat had saved him from the surely fatal bite of the great snake Nagini; 'Kill', the Dark Lord had said in that sibilant speech and Nagini had obeyed, her great body looping and pulling around his body, and he had felt the fangs slide into his throat.

He had lain on the floor, feeling life and magic leach out of himself as Voldemort had left him to die in that dusty, lonely shack, and he had seen wide green eyes appear right over him; she was here. She would be here with him as he died. He would tell her how he had never forgotten her, and so he had released every last memory he had cherished of her, how he had worked to protect her brat, all for her.

The dark had pulled over him, and the last thing he saw was those lovely green eyes, looking down at him with horror and pain. I'll be alright, Lily, he remembered thinking in satisfaction. You're here, I'm alright.

And then, the boy had pulled in back from the Shadow of the Veil by sheer will. When he had snapped awake in the Dai Llewellyn Ward at St Mungo's, pain throbbing in his neck even as people moaned in anguish around him, he had felt a flash of hatred for the boy, for not letting him go. The four Aurors set to guard him had watched him with cool, judgemental eyes. He had stared them down and watched them look away; he had taught three of them, and he was pleased to see that he still commanded some sort of reaction, even as he had reclined helpless in the lumpy bed.

The boy had testified for him at the long trials, where he had been painted as the unrecognised hero, a man dedicated to Dumbledore and the Cause, even to carry out his most terrible of requests. Lucius had been sentenced to many years in the newly warded Azkaban; knowing Lucius, he would have that place running the way he wanted within a few months. Severus did not return to Hogwarts. He was finally free, to simply pursue life as he wished. To start that potions catalogue he had mused over for so very long; to tutor privately, in his own time.

But not completely free. He had awoken nearly every day, feeling the tug of the Wizarding Debt in his chest, not painful, but insistent; and now that Potter was here, standing on the tiny front stoop and looking at everything but Severus, the pull was even more demanding, pointing towards the boy.

"Name your terms," he now stated baldly, not wanting to prolong this for any longer. The sooner started, the sooner done, and Potter would be out of his life for good. McGonagall reached into the deep pocket of her robes and took out a small folded bit of parchment. A contract, he realised, as she opened it by hand and gave it to him. A contract, he read, to tutor the boy. To privately teach Advanced Potions to this brat. He raised his eyes from the parchment held with disdain in his hands and considered the Headmistress.

"Am I wrong to assume that Professor Slughorne is still the Potion's Master at Hogwarts?"

"No," Minerva said curtly, and Severus recalled how she had screamed at him through a broken window at Hogwarts, as he had fled to meet the Dark Lord. She had called him coward, and even now, he could see that that streak of pride in her that prevented them from going back to their former professional relationship. They had not been close, but at least they had had an understanding; one that had been broken the moment he had killed her mentor. Had she forgotten that Dumbledore had been his mentor as well? It did not matter now, anyway. What was done was done.

"Harry is to become an Auror," Minerva continued firmly. "He is to be placed in an accelerated training programme--"

"Of course," Severus sneered and Minerva ignored him.

"-- and because he has missed his last year, he will be tutored privately in his N.E.W.T subjects. He has requested to be tutored in Potions by you."

"Has he?" Severus murmured, sliding his gaze over by Potter, who finally deigned to look at him, eyes carefully blank.

"You'll clear your Debt that way, I guess," the boy said gruffly and Severus' felt his lip curl reflexively.

"I owed the father, now I owe the son. When will I ever be free of Potters?" Severus conjured a quill and put his scratchy signature on the line, sealing the contract, which stated that upon Potter's successful grades in Advanced Potions, the debt would be cleared; so required and stated by Harry J. Potter, OM, First Class; so witnessed by Minerva McGonagall, OM, Second Class; so agreed by Severus Snape, OM, Third Class.

"If you can avoid any of my children saving your life," Potter said dryly as the contract folded itself in the air and melted out of sight, "I think you'll be fine. Sir."

Severus stepped back and slammed the door in their faces.

***

Teaching the boy gave Severus a headache. He transferred all of Draco's sessions to the afternoons, and Potter Apparated to his dismal front stoop at the same time every Wednesday and Thursday, nine in the morning; this way, after Potter's disturbing presence in his house, he would depend on the capable attention of Draco to soothe away his Potter-induced bad mood.

Yet, for all his sour internal complaining, Potter seemed to do fairly well; possibly due to the fact there were no other students in Severus' brightly-lit basement-laboratory before whom he could flaunt his Boy-Who-Lived status. Severus hated to admit it, but he appeared to be very much like his mother: quiet and attentive. It was almost peaceful; Severus was lulled into thinking that paying off this debt would not be as trying as he had first assumed.

Until Potter opened his damned mouth and asked Severus about Lily, right at the end of the fourth tutoring session.

"You knew her nearly all her life," Potter insisted stubbornly. "Tell me something more about her."

"You saw my memories of your mother," Severus hissed, snatching Potter's copy of Moste Potente Potions from off the neatened work-table and snapping it shut in a fit that only this....this berk could call up in him. Strangely infuriated that the childish word was the only thing his mind could come up with, he glared at Potter as he slid the thick book over to the boy, so forcefully that it nearly slid off onto the floor. "You saw the memories, be content with those."

"I want to know more. I'm sure those are not all the memories you have of her." Potter took the book from where it teetered at the edge of the smooth, clean surface, and placing it in that pouch he dragged around with him everywhere.

"I am required to teach you Advanced Potions," Severus informed him coolly. "Not to regale you with stories of your mother's early escapades. So cease with your stupid questioning."

"Or what?" Potter was looking at him with a little smile on his face, brittle at the edges. "Or you'll stop teaching me Potions? Tell me, sir, what happens to a Wizard that does not pay off his debt?"

"Don't play childish games, Potter," Severus said with soft venom. "The only article on that contract was to tutor you in Potions, to achieve a passing grade for your future illustrious career. I am not under any obligation to do anything else."

The infuriating twit merely inclined his head questioningly and peered at him from behind the awful glasses; the round style had become popular, so much so that nearly every child seemed to be wearing them, whether they might need glasses or not.

"Why do you still hate me?" Potter said suddenly, blinking at him with those hatefully lovely eyes. "I saved your life."

"A fact for which I will one day have my revenge on you," Severus snapped, jerking his chin in the direction of the staircase that led up out of the laboratory, a signal for Potter to take his leave. "As soon as I repay this lovely debt."

Instead of looking crestfallen or angry, a quick flicker of amusement ran across Potter's cool visage. Nowadays, the boy was unusually reserved, listening to Severus' clipped tutorials with cool interest. Potter appeared to have an iron grasp of his emotions nowadays, very surprising in a boy that was the pinnacle of Gryffindor impetuousness.

"That's the one thing I'll always give you credit for," Potter said lightly as he snagged his bag and ambled up the steep, groaning stairs. "I can depend on you to be a perfect bastard."

"I aim to please," Severus said with a well-practiced sneer and Potter made sure to slam the door so hard that the glass bottles rattled in the laboratory.

***

Potter was annoyingly persistent.

"Did she like Potions?" he asked, carefully sorting through some porcupine quills.

"She liked everything," Severus said shortly, coming close to inspect his choices and removing some that still looked unacceptable. Potter looked up at him, dark eyebrows raised. Severus sighed, a long-suffering exhalation as he returned to his seat. "She did well in all her subjects."

"I know that," Potter said, but he still looked pleased. "She must have been a lot like Hermione, right?"

"Less insufferable," Severus said automatically, and Potter's full mouth twisted wryly. "And more beautiful."

"Hermione is pretty." Typical Potter, quick to the defence of his friends. "You should see her, now that she's engaged--"

"I don't recall requesting an exposition of your friends' lives. Turn that flame down. Why are you turning it down?"

Potter's nose wrinkled.

"Because... it needs to simmer for fifteen minutes more, to increase... the strength of the potion itself."

"Very good," Severus said softly and then felt as shocked as Potter looked. "Well, well."

"A compliment, that was. Seems that snake bites are good for mellowing a man." Potter turned away from him, rolling up the sleeve of his robe and picking up a long wooden spoon, holding up to his face and looking at it.

"You seem surprised that I hand out compliments. Counter-clockwise. Don't stir as if you're making lemonade... gently, but firm."

"You seem surprised that I recall what you say." Potter's glance slid over to where he was seated, straight-backed in a large armchair, the only one in the whole laboratory. It was located in a far corner of the room, a small tattered rug underneath it. It was Severus' little isle of comfort in the lab; whenever he took a rest from brewing, he sat there, comfortably perusing some large book. "Besides, you never seemed inclined to throw compliments in my direction."

"I preferred not to take part in the never-ending festival of Potter Adulation," Severus replied in a dry tone and was taken aback when Potter chuckled.

***

"Potter must be giving you hell," Draco drawled one afternoon, sorting his ingredients and knives with quick movements. Potter would never be a natural, as Draco was, but the boy had a sort of determination that was a handy equaliser. "I don't envy you one bit, tutoring him." Draco's voice was bitter and yet there was a sardonic thread of humour. Severus peered at him; he would never be as ruthless as his father, never as imaginatively cruel and Severus found that he did not mind this at all.

"He could be worse," Severus noted noncommittally and Draco huffed. "I'm sure your mother has told you the advantages of being civil to the current Saviour."

"I've gotten the speech. In the meantime, I'll avoid even crossing his path. So, thanks for keeping our sessions separate." Draco drew his wand and lit flames under four of his ready cauldrons. He paused for a moment, looking at his wand thoughtfully before looking at Severus. "He gave me back my wand," he said nonchalantly, but Severus still detected the strain underneath his words. "I couldn't decide whether to thank him or hex him when he handed it over."

"Potter inspires that mix of emotions in me as well," Severus noted and Draco rolled his eyes.

"It sucks being on the side that lost," Draco sighed, turning back to his cauldrons and levitating his books and quill out of his book-bag.

"We're alive and not languishing in some gaol," Severus pointed out. "I'm not quite sure what 'sucks' about that."

"You know what I mean," Draco said shortly, but there was still a small smile on his face as he prepared to take notes.

***

Potter questioned him relentlessly about Lily. Her favourite colour (blue), her preferred perfume (none), sweets that she had adored (not Chocolate frogs, Severus said to him snidely and Potter had bestowed upon him a sly, lopsided grin).

When it seemed he was satisfied, Potter began with Severus himself.

"You've fixed your teeth," Potter noted, squinting close as Severus had bared his teeth at him in a fit of exasperation. Severus closed his lips slowly, staring at Potter in annoyance; the brat simply ignored his glare, continuing his close inspection of Severus' face. "Generally, you look a little better than you did in school. Only a little, though."

"Be still, my heart," Severus said flatly through stiff lips.

"Why? I thought you were content in looking like Death warmed over."

"I found the time, Potter."

The boy had the gall to place a look of mocking surprise on his face.

"Wait, you mean that you were so busy being a double-agent, looking after the well-being of a boy you couldn't stand, that you forgot all these amazing charms that you've used now?"

"Well, it is possible that I preferred to look like, how did you put it? Ah yes: 'death warmed over'."

"Yeah, I think so, too. It was a part you had to play and that was your costume." Potter nodded decisively and went back to checking his textbook and shredding some belladonna, his gloved hands moving carefully.

"You seem to be under the impression that I was some sort of...tragic hero," Severus sneered. "Let me assure you, my participation in the War was quite compulsory."

"This from the man who chose to spy and lie due to a deep, unrequited love." Potter gave him a measuring look out of the corner of his eye. "If that isn't tragic or heroic, I don't know what is. You really did love her, didn't you."

Severus just looked at him, and did not reply, for this last was not a question. Potter had seen his memories, after all.

"You do. You still do, after all these years." Potter turned to look at him fully, his regard unnerving. "What would it take for you to love anyone else?"

"A rather extraordinary person, I'm afraid." Severus felt the corner of his mouth twitch in amusement as Potter gave a great, snide bray of laughter.

"I think you've set your standards too high. You need to lower your expectations, you'll get someone that way. Definitely."

"Page 161, Rapid Antidote for Frostbite," Severus said suddenly. For a moment there, the atmosphere had gotten too friendly... bordering on flirtatious, not that Severus had any experience with that. Potter's expression immediately closed up, his shining eyes going cool. He gave a brisk nod and opened his book.

***

"Why do you want to become an Auror?" Severus asked in the middle of outlining the proper steps for creating Essence of Dittany, something that Potter himself had demanded to know. Potter looked up at him, surprised.

"What? I'm supposed to be an Auror. Now, what was that last thing you said--"

"What would you prefer to be?" Severus pressed, delighted that it was his turn to make Potter uncomfortable. Potter kept his eyes on his notebook and shrugged. "Come now. You must have some idea."

Potter muttered something.

"Beg pardon?" Severus asked smoothly.

"Wands. I want to learn wand-lore, how to make them, and stuff." Potter was scribbling at the side of his notes, the corners of his mouth pulled down slightly. "It's interesting. I find it interesting, at least."

"Why, then, aren't you apprenticed to some master wand-maker, Potter, instead of inflicting your presence on me?" Severus' voice was fairly light, or rather, as light as he could stand it, but Potter still did not look at him.

"You of all people should know about obligations," was all Potter said.

"Very well. I suppose you'll make a fair Auror," Severus replied and Potter's head rose up slightly. "You've had the practice."

Potter mouth folded in, biting back a smile.

"Just because I'm good at something doesn't mean I want to do it all my life," he pointed out. "Like you and the whole spying bit."

"So it is your humble opinion that I made a good spy?"

"You were the best spy ever," Potter said with amused earnestness. "I don't think anyone would have done a better job."

"Be careful, Potter," Snape warned lightly. "Any more flattering remarks and one might think you're trying to get into my good books."

Potter muttered and turned back to his books; Snape could have sworn that he mumbled one would be right.

***

The touching started fairly innocuously; a mild sliding of fingers when passing glass containers or fresh leaves; a calm hand to the small of Severus' back when passing behind him, on the way to the storage cupboards; and, quite blatantly, placing his smaller hand briefly over Severus' larger, bonier one when asking a question during the discussion-sections of the lessons. Severus supposed it was his own fault for feeling relaxed enough to pull a stool near Potter's place at the long, high work-table. Draco had once come upon them, the both of them not realising that so much time had passed. Potter's hand had been near his own on the surface of the desks, the sides of their palms almost touching. Draco's clear-grey eyes had focused immediately on the proximity of their hands and he had made a cool, knowing smile.

"Malfoy," Potter had said stiffly, rising up and grabbing at his pouch. He gave Severus a jerky nod, his face filling with something that Severus did not have a name for, and had stepped past Draco without another word. Severus was in the middle of banishing the cleaned cauldrons to their proper places when Draco stood beside him and leaned forward, peering sideways and up into his face.

"Oh my god," he had said and waggled his eyebrows at Severus. "He's my age."

"That is not news to anyone, Draco. Your notes, if you'll be so kind."

"And the thing is," Draco remarked as he handed over a thick sheaf of parchment. "Potter was jealous of me. Actually jealous, of me. Did you see his face?"

"I was not looking. I need to see your full list of references."

"At the back. Severus, why you?" Draco seemed genuinely curious and Severus stopped pretending to read Draco's dissertation on Protective Potions.

"Why not me?" he returned cryptically, going to sink in his armchair, crossing his legs and perusing Draco's notes with a haughty scowl. Why not him, indeed? And yet, what in Merlin's beard was Potter playing at? He meant to ask Potter quite plainly during the next session, but the boy came into the laboratory with a thundercloud scrawled on his face. He barely answered Severus, his eyes pained and faraway. When he nearly caused an explosion, something he had managed to avoid in these past months of Severus' lessons, Severus thought that enough was enough.

"Potter, do not add anymore of that snake oil. Turn off those flames and come over here."

Potter looked up in surprise, but he obeyed. He walked over to where Severus was seated and, with a nod from Severus, he conjured up a seat for himself, a simple, low chair. He sunk into it and slouched down, frowning at the faint patterns of the rug at their feet.

"Speak." Severus closed his book, West Indian Herbs and Their Magical Properties, and gazed at him. Potter finally looked in his eyes, blinking slowly.

"Sorry?"

"There is obviously something amiss. I have heard somewhere that talking is curative, so I will suffer to listen to your so-called troubles, just for now."

"If you were a Healer, you'd be renowned for your bedside manners," Potter told him dryly, but there was still a very tiny smile playing around his lips. He broke the gaze and looked down again, plucking some imaginary wisp of dust off his faded shirt. Severus took the moment to take a look at Potter; he was average in height, but possessing long limbs, slim legs encased in those battered jeans. A perfectly ordinary face, made remarkable only by those eyes and the now-faded scar; it seemed that without them, a person could pass him on the street without a second glance. Lily had drawn attention, with her hair and personality. Yet, the boy was magically strong and foolhardy in a selfless way; maybe that his own special charm.

"Why is it," the boy began slowly, interrupting Severus' musings, "that I can't do what I want?"

"Obligations, Potter?"

"Yeah." Potter gave a dry, unhappy laugh. "The thing is, you're always expected to do more. Go farther, help the next person, live up to whatever standard they made up in their heads for you." The words were tumbling out of him quickly, thoughts that had probably been festering under that unruly hair for quite some time. Suddenly, he looked very ancient and yet impossibly young at the same time, a strange man-child that been through the Valley at all costs and was now being asked to climb the Mountain.

"You are not required--"

"But I am," the boy interrupted plaintively. "It's not just for me, don't you see? It's for... it's for Fred, it's for Remus and Tonks. For so many."

"Your life is not to be a cenotaph," Severus said witheringly. Potter blinked at him and then gave a slow shake of his head.

"That's the way it is. You know that." That small smile appeared again, far too old to be on his face. "That's just the way it is, Severus."

His name was as honeyed smoke on the boy's lips, dark and smooth. They were staring at each other and Severus could feel something twist low in his groin, made lively by the way Potter was just gazing at him, a greedy film descended over those green eyes.

Why him?

"You'd never force me into anything I didn't want to do," the boy said softly, sitting up and leaning forward a bit. Severus' hand tightened on the arm of his chair and those green eyes flickered to the slight movement, before returning to rest heavily on his face. "As a matter of fact, you'd tell me to go to hell and do whatever I want, as long as I'm not in your way."

"Quite right," Severus agreed. "However, I would not be so crude."

"Yeah. Not so crude. I like that."

"Potter," Severus began, striving for firm. He must simply nip this in the bud; Potter was looking at him in a sultry manner, his chin propped up in his palms as he placed his elbows on his knees. "I am--"

"Twice my age. I've never been attracted to people my own age, anyway."

"That's because you have fools for acquaintances. On top of that--"

"You think I still hate you. I wouldn't have struggled to save your life if I did. What else? That you're male? That doesn't bother me. Does it matter to you?"

Severus sneered at him half-heartedly. "If this is your idea of seduction, Potter, your technique leaves much to be desired."

The imp leaned back in his chair again, crossing his legs in an insolent mockery of Severus' own position.

"You're my tutor, aren't you?"

Severus gave him a long, cool look and then a slow smile.

***

It was madness, really. Potter was absolutely mad, but apparently, it was contagious.

Potter had stood up as soon as he did, looking up in his face with a touch of nervousness. The boy bit at his lower lip as Severus stepped close, his head tilting back as they stood chest to chest, the boy's warmth pressing against him, felt even through the heavy material of his robes.

"First lesson," Severus said, voice slightly hoarse. Potter blinked and then closed his eyes. His mouth was already parted as Severus bent his head to touch their lips together, not doing anything but moving his head slowly from side to side, feeling the lush curves of Potter's mouth underneath his, the short, warm pants of breath coming from him. He moaned as Severus took the slight kiss deeper, hands sliding up Severus' chest to grasp onto his shoulders, fingers gripping almost painfully. The moan seemed to continue, short, gasping sounds as Severus gathered him closer, his own hands passing flat over the narrow back, feeling the long muscles move as Potter arched against him willingly.

Potter obviously had limited experience in kissing a person; too hard, too fast and Severus had had to slow him down, show him the delicacy of tongue and teeth. Severus was not a person highly experienced in the art of lovemaking, not so at all; he was simply a perfectionist. In this, Potter was a wonderfully quick study.

"More." The boy was obviously trying to climb him like a tree, curling a leg around his and pressing insistently as Severus nipped at his earlobe, the curve of his jaw. "Please, please. More."

Severus gave him another long kiss and then stepped away, smiling darkly as Potter leaned forward, trying to coax him back.

"I will teach you patience, Potter." He sat down in his own chair again, neatening his robes fastidiously, knowing that his own arousal was carefully hidden. Potter was staring down at him fixedly, his lips reddened; he sat down as a dreamer would, slowly. "I will teach you the delight of anticipation."

"Yes, well." Potter cleared his throat and blinked, still slightly dazed. "I... I never knew you could kiss like that."

"Hmm, of course. You've only seen your plain old ogre of a Potion's Master. Never judge a Kneazle by its coat." Severus had not known either; as a matter of fact, he was really not sure of where to take this; but there were books, weren't there?

"You're not plain," Potter said faintly and surprisingly, he blushed. "You won't win any prizes, but you have... you're striking."

Severus just raised an eyebrow at him. Potter smiled and got to his feet, returning to his cauldron and shooting shy looks at Severus every fifteen minutes. Severus went back to his reading, but his thoughts invaded every sentence. Was it because this was Lily's son, that this strange attraction was evident? Catching another quick glance, he felt a small smile curl on his face.

He doubted that.

***

Draco got an Outstanding in his N.E.W.T.s, which was no surprise to anyone. Severus was forced to attend a celebratory dinner at the Manor, the same evening that the results were sent out; he sat at a small, cosy table in the atrium with Narcissa, who was dressed in delicate blue, her jewellery glittering as she fussed over Draco with an indulgent smile; they had easy banter over the perfect meal and Severus took his leave fairly early, leaving his congratulations and taking the last deposit of his payment for the private tutorials.

Potter had done his examinations the same day, yet he had not come proudly with his grades as Draco had done. Severus was in an inexplicably bad mood as he went to bed early; he was still fairly grumpy when he had to answer the door at an ungodly hour the following morning.

"Here," Potter said without preamble, thrusting two sets of folded parchment at him as he pushed his way inside.

One gave a list of all of Potter's N.E.W.T.s results, which he had passed, most of them fairly well. The last result read as follows:

POTIONS: E [Exceeds Expectations].

The other parchment declared that the Wizarding Debt between Harry James Potter and Severus Snape was now fulfilled. Severus raised his eyes from the parchment and regarded the cheeky grin of the boy.

"Before you say I have nothing else to learn from you, and I must be off on my way," Potter remarked, pulling off his robe and throwing it over a nearby coat-rack, "Remember I need to learn patience." He crowded up to Severus, pressing him against the door and smiling up into his face. "I've spoken to Mr. Ollivander about wand-lore. He says he'll be delighted to teach me."

"And the accelerated training programme?" Severus dropped the pieces of parchment on the floor, running his hands down the boy's back to take two delicious handfuls of Potter-bottom. Potter squirmed even more against him. "Don't tell me all my hard work has been in vain."

Potter gave him an enthusiastic kiss.

"There was a terrible row," Potter whispered against his mouth. "I've refused to take it. Professor McGonagall wasn't too put out, it wasn't her idea in the first place anyway. But the Ministry was really upset." Another kiss, longer and more eager.

"No doubt they think it's my disastrous influence," Severus said in contentment as Potter dragged him in the direction of the staircase. "And if you are pulling me to my own room, it's the second room on the left. Mind your step... watch where you are going, Potter."

"I'm about to learn many awful things from you now, call me Harry," the brat demanded and as they tumbled into his neat room, Severus thought these lessons would be most successful.

fin