"You'reTheHalf-BloodPrince!"

Please read WHO IS THE HALF-BLOOD PRINCE?, the prequel to this story. Thanks!

Summary,Disclaimers posted with Chapter 1. Warnings posted in Chapters 1-4. Surely by now you know what to expect!

Thankyoutoallmyreviewers! I really appreciate all your kind thoughts. You made me grin, do a happy dance, and squeal with delight! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter :)

StoryNote: Well, I thought I would be able to finish up the story with Chapter 5, but I had some new ideas that just begged to be developed, so... plans changed! The confession will take place in Ch 6 (already in progress) - YAY! - and then there will be an epilogue for Ch. 6. I've decided that their intimacy and relationship will be limited while Harry is 16 (chapter 5), hence there will be an epilogue (brainstorming but not written). Work and personal life is keeping me quite busy, but I hope to finish this story by the end of the year!

CHAPTER5

The next morning Harry came up with a brilliant idea. It was so ingenious he couldn't believe he managed it on his own. Later that afternoon he placed an order for high-quality wand oil and polishing cloth. It arrived by owl the next day. But it wasn't until the next week before he finally conquered his nerves.

When classes were over for the day and most students were either outside, in the library, or in their common rooms, Harry made his way to Snape's office, with wand, oil, and cloth in his robes, and broomstick in his hand. He knocked on the door and waited. He was just about to knock again when he heard an irritated "Enter."

Harry opened the door cautiously, saw that Snape was engrossed in marking papers, and he stepped inside quietly, closing the door behind him.

Snape looked up. He raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Potter," he said simply.

"I need your help, Professor."

"There is no doubt about that, although it surprises me that you would come to me willingly."

Harry stood silently under Snape's intense gaze. "I'm willing, sir," he replied. Willing to learn from you, to be with you, in everyway imaginable, he thought.

"What do you need, Potter?"

His chest tightened and grew hot from the possibilities of that innocent question. He wondered if this was such a good idea after all, if he was biting off more than he could chew. He had finally worked up the courage to do this but was now beginning to worry if he would embarrass himself by becoming too nervous or too aroused.

"I need help polishing my wand." There, he said it. And his voice sounded perfectly calm and reasonable. "I mean, I know you demonstrated and explained it in class," he quickly added. "But my eyesight isn't the greatest, so it was hard for me... to uh... make note of your technique," he finished lamely. He felt his face flush when he realized he had used the word "hard." It's just a word, he reminded himself. It doesn't always mean that.

Snape just stared at him.

"And I did some research and wrote the essay you assigned, but... not everything can be learned from a book." Harry bit his lip, feeling foolish.

"You have plenty of housemates who could assist you," Snape pointed out.

"Yes, but, I'd much rather learn from you."

"I see," Snape said after a moment. "Sit quietly and give me a moment."

Harry moved towards the chair in front of Snape's desk and watched as Snape finished marking the essay he was currently on. Harry wondered how much money Snape spent on a year's worth of red ink. After a couple minutes of irritated sighs, indecipherable mutters, and angry scratches of the professor's quill, Snape finally set aside his quill and ink pot and the stack of essays. He folded his arms on top of his desk and looked questioningly at Harry. "Well?"

Harry stared silently into those dark eyes and then remembered why he was there. "Oh, I..." He stood up and reached into his robes. He retrieved the bottle of oil and the polishing cloth. "I got these from an owl order." He placed them on Snape's desk and sat back down.

Snape picked them up, studied them, and gave a small nod. Harry knew that meant he approved. Harry's heart soared. Snape set them back down on the desk and looked at Harry. "You will attempt to polish your wand and I will watch."

Harry felt a surge of excitement and fear. He pulled out his wand and fumbled with the bottle of oil, pouring more than he had intended. ("Careful," Snape warned him.) He then realized that he hadn't thought this all the way through. He had expected Snape to demonstrate as he had before. He wasn't sure now whether he should give it his best, in the hopes that Snape would compliment him, or whether he should bungle it up, so that Snape would give him some assistance. But luckily, he didn't have to decide; his nervous fingers decided for him.

"Oh, for crying out loud," Snape exclaimed, startling Harry. "Are you always so clumsy?" He stood up suddenly and circled his desk.

While Snape regularly invaded the personal space of students in the Potions classroom, peering over their shoulders to monitor their ingredient preparation and the progress of their potion, nothing could have prepared Harry for Snape coming up so close behind, wrapping his arms around, and placing his hands over his own. Harry fought hard to breathe calmly as Snape corrected Harry's technique, at times demonstrating beside Harry's hands, and at other times manipulating Harry's fingers under his own.

Amidst instructions Snape muttered quietly to himself, mainly insults about Harry's intelligence and competence and complaints on the intrusion of his time, but there seemed to be no real venom there and Harry couldn't help but wonder if Snape actually enjoyed the opportunity to be in such close proximity and if the insults were nothing but a way to hide how he truly felt. Of course, that might have been wishful thinking. But if Snape really did detest him, he would have glared and thrown him out of the office with the instruction that he seek help from his housemates. Or, Snape could have easily snatched his wand from him if he wanted to demonstrate. There was no real need to be so close to him, to touch him.

Harry's heart thudded wildly and he could feel his cock straining in his trousers. The nearness of the man standing so close and the touch of his hands was nearly too much. He wanted to say the words. The moment was just too perfect. He wanted to tell the man that he knew that he was his Prince. But the words stuck in his mouth.

"I see you brought your broomstick," Snape said casually.

"Uh, yeah, I was going to go flying afterwards."

"You do realize that broomsticks require similar care, as they are also made of wood."

Harry felt faint. "I figured as much."

"Considering how incompetent you were with your wand, I suppose that you require assistance with your broomstick as well," he stated, rather than asked.

Harry's mouth went dry. "Yes, please," he choked out.

They finished wiping down Harry's wand with the cloth. Snape took the cloth and wand from Harry, reached forward to place them on top of his desk (causing him to press into Harry's back), and then grabbed Harry's broomstick and placed it in his lap. Harry closed his eyes painfully and alternated between hoping that Snape didn't notice his bulge and hoping that he did. Snape poured wand oil onto their hands and they polished the broomstick together.

Harry bit his lip and tried to stay calm. He tried to breathe evenly, to not pant. The sight of Snape's hands on top of his own, both palms slick with oil, moving up and down the thick wooden shaft of his broomstick, was even more erotic than polishing his wand. Harry couldn't help but notice that particular attention was spent on where he sat on the broom. Snape explained that the friction of clothing wears down the polish. Harry swallowed hard and prayed that he wouldn't embarrass himself in Snape's presence. And those words he so wanted desperately to say were still stubbornly lodged in his mouth.

"There, done." Snape moved away from him quickly and returned to his desk chair. Harry stared as Snape busied himself by organizing stacks of essays. "Potter, we are finished. Take your things and go."

Harry felt a pang of disappointment at the cold tone and Snape's refusal to look up at him. But then he realized that it probably was for the best that he make his exit without his hard-on noticed. He stowed away his wand, oil, and cloth in his robes before standing, and held his broom in front of himself as he did so. He turned away to conceal his shame and looked back over his shoulder. "Thank you, Professor. I really appreciate it."

Snape finally looked up and their eyes met. The dark eyes seemed to pierce Harry's with an intense heat, very similar to, but not quite the same as his usual angry glares. "Duly noted."

Harry gave the man an awkward smile and left the office. He immediately retreated to the nearest boy's restroom, grateful that he passed by no one on the way and that he had the room to himself. He had a problem that needed attending to. Afterwards, he was going to go outside and fly on the broom they polished together. He knew that in the darkness of his dorm that night, he would be reliving everything that happened in the office, the nearness of the man's heat, the tingles that his touch gave, the tickle of his breath, the sight of their fingers, their hands, wrapped around and rubbing on his wand and broomstick, not to mention the suggestiveness of his words and the voice that was richer and silkier than a bite of dark chocolate... He hated that he wasn't able to say what he came to say, but the visit wasn't a total waste. Not at all.

Meanwhile, Snape retreated to his private quarters to take care of his own problem, grateful that his official office hours were over for the day and he had plenty of time before dinner to relieve himself thoroughly and wash up afterwards. Yes, it was a problem that could have been avoided. But the opportunity was too perfect to pass up. That Potter boy was going to be the death of him.

HPSS HPSS HPSS

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