Disclaimer: If I owned them, I'd be a much happier person. But I don't.
AN: Thank you to my best friend who became my muse when all my others abandoned me. If you'd like to read 'Master', go by my website. It's on my author's page.
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Harry watched as Severus tried to appear indifferent towards him, however, the professor failed miserably as yet another famous smirk transformed into a grin. The two of them had foolishly thought that Severus could maintain his cold demeanor towards Harry in public, but these practice sessions did not induce confidence. Harry knew that Severus simply couldn't look upon his lover without a tender smile. Luckily, it was just the two of them alone in the room. Embarrassing wouldn't begin to describe their situation if other students were present.
"You're doing it again," Harry smirked. He sat at his desk in the potions classroom, studying every movement made by the professor.
It was obvious that frustration was beginning to take over. "I am aware, Mr. Potter."
Shrugging, Harry returned his attention to his notebook. He was trying so desperately to remember what Neville had done to that first potion, all those weeks ago, to have turned it into a servitude potion. Having the initial instructions before him didn't help since Longbottom had blundered the directions. What Harry really needed was Neville's help to make it again, or to find the servitude potion in a book. However, the former would require an uncomfortable explanation to his friend, and the latter would require a signed note from a teacher to get into the restricted section. And, of course, that would also lead back to an uncomfortable explanation...or a lie. Neither one sounded appealing.
So, staring back at the potion instructions written in his notes, he tried to remember all of Neville's mistakes. And he would, no matter how many there were.
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Harry's head fell back against the overstuffed chair in the Common Room. Sighing, he closed his eyes and rubbed his hands up and down his face.
"Harry, what's wrong?"
Eyes popping open, The-Boy-Who-Lived saw his good friend, Hermione. When had she arrived? He hadn't heard anyone approach. "It's nothing, Mione."
"Harry, you've been staring at your potions notes all day. You're not fooling anyone, least of all me."
"Mione, I'm trying to work on something. I just need some time alone." He quickly closed his notes and moved towards the portrait of the Fat Lady. Harry needed time to concentrate on remembering what happened, and it didn't look like he was going to be able to in the Tower.
His friend's voice reached him just before he stepped out of the Common Room. "Where are you going?"
"The library."
"Would this have anything to do with your relationship with Snape? Are you two fighting?"
"Bye, Mione!"
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Four hours later, Harry sat alone in a barely lit corner of the library near the potions section. He closed his notes again, dropping them on the floor. His head held in his hands, he asked aloud, "Why did this become so hard?" His head raised up a moment later, eyes bright and mouth wide. "Perfect! Absolutely perfect!"
Jumping up, he scanned all the books on the shelves, searching for the right one. "It should be here...it's not an illegal potion...here it is." Harry reached up and pulled the tall book from the shelf and carried it back to his seat beside the only lit candle in the library. Immediately, he found the potion in the index and flipped to it.
Harry allowed himself a mischievous grin as he pictured his revenge. Jotting down the instructions, he replaced the book and ran back to the Tower. He couldn't wait until tomorrow to start the potion.
-tbc-