Disclaimer: if I ever claimed I owned or made money on this, I was drunk and you were high and misunderstood everything I said.

Warning: What will soon come is not for the faint hearted. I mean if you really didn't like SLASH then why are you reading fanfiction?

A/N so small note Harry has found a loop hole. As to why he is not very worried about using magic in the middle of summer. Also I finished editing everything and the first story the muse latched onto was this one. I hope you enjoy it. And let me know what you think.

Part 14

The door opened slowly, a light glow peaking in through the small crack. Harry poked his head out and looked around the room expecting the potion master to swoop out at any moment and start yelling at him for being a lazy lout or such rubbish. Seeing nothing but the dark room and the warm glow coming from the fireplace Harry lightly closed the door and went back to his trunk. Shrinking it so he could place it in his pocket he tiptoed back to the door. Opening it as quietly as possible, Harry slowly crept through it closing it behind him.

Standing for a minute Harry examined the room. Walking towards the couch he noticed first that it was transfigured into a bed, and second there was a dead to the world professor laying on it. Harry froze for a second, watching the immobile professor. After moments of watching his professors breathing, Harry relaxed. He just looked at the man that was sleeping before him. It looked like he had had a restless night. Harry looked at the coffee table and his eyes focused on the empty bottle of Fire whiskey. Shaking his head he looked back at his professor. The man's brow was knitted and he was scowling at something in his dream. Without even thinking, Harry ran his hand through the potion masters hair; moving some of it out of his face. And to his surprise Snape visibly relaxed, letting out a content sigh. His hand snapped back to his side. What had he been thinking?

He turned away and looked around the room. He hadn't bothered to last night. Instead of the dark feeling he had thought the room would have. Yes the room belonged to a Slytherin. Anyone could see that. But the green tones ranged from a coral green to the color of evergreens, the silver were more of a grey and there was little black. There were books everywhere. It felt comfortable. There were three doors. The one he had just come from; the bedchamber. And the remaining two… a mischievous glint entered his eyes as he walked towards the one closest to him. Turning the handle he entered the professor's office. It was neat and tidy. Ingredients everywhere. There were a couple cauldrons on a station to the left and Harry figured this must also be where he completes his private brewing. There was a cabinet right next to the desk and Harry remembered that that was where the potions master kept his store of potions. He opened the cabinet and perused the potions, not really looking for anything in particular. But his green eyes caught the label in the older man's familiar scrawl. Hangover relief. He grabbed a bottle. Next to it was a nausea potion, like the ones Madame Pomfrey would shove down students' throats after they ate some of the twins' candy. Thinking for a second he also grabbed one of those. Closing the cabinet and leaving the office, he quietly closed the door behind him.

He walked over to the coffee table and sat down the potions, not noticing the ebony eyes following him from above the mantle.

His curiosity sated Harry turned around the room again and saw the empty portrait. He turned back to the sleeping man and caught himself staring at the content look on his face. If he didn't scowl as much, Harry had to admit that the potion master was handsome; and promptly gave himself a mental slap. Shaking his head he started walking towards the exit and was doing up his shirt when a voice startled him.

"And where do you think you're going Mister Potter?" Harry stared at the portrait in front of him. An older man looked back at him, his eyebrow raised in the normal Snape fashion. Harry turned and looked back at the bed. Nope still asleep. Looking back he examined the portrait. The man had long black hair and ebony eyes. The face was aristocratic. Unlike his fist thought that the man was Snape, the man had a smaller nose. But the look, the Drawl… Snape was taught from a master.

"Umm sir, who are you?" the portrait raised a second eyebrow. Then sneered. Oh yup. Defiantly learned from a master.

"Really, don't be such a rude young man." Harry bristled.

"I'm not being rude. I was always told not to talk to people I don't know." He left out that he was taught not to talk to anyone period. Unless spoken to. Resisting the urge to stick his tongue out at the portrait he went back to buttoning up his shirt. When he looked up the portrait was gaping at him. Harry raised an eyebrow and walked forwards.

"As to where I'm going sir. That is none of your business. Now open." The man reluctantly opened the portrait and as harry walked by he heard the portrait grumble to himself. .

/Impertinent brat. No wonder my grandchild is fond of him./

Harry whirled around. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

As he stalked up the corridor he wonder what had possessed him to help Snape.

He helped you. Oh of course. Because the logical answer. I'm not a logical person. Because he's always helped you. Thank you for the guilt trip. How about because you still sorry for fifth year? I tried apologizing. It's the gits own fault he didn't want to hear it. The voice gave a huff. Fine how about because you secretly think he's hot and want to get to know him.

Harry started coughing and smacked himself against the head. Great now he's talking to himself too.

Part 15

Snape groaned as he started to wake up. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs and promptly buried his face back into the pillow. Just how much had he drank?

Slowly sitting up he looked around the room and remembered what happened last night. Ah that's why he drank so much. He looked at the three bottles on the coffee table. With a wave of his hand the empty bottle of fire whiskey was gone. Picking up the first bottle and downing it he reminded himself to thank Minerva when he visited her. With the two potions finished he pushed himself off the transfigured coach and looked towards the closed door of his bedchamber. He walked over to the door getting ready to knock, but reluctantly pulled his hand back. He was probably the last person the young man wanted to see at this point. Walking back to the bed he transfigured it back into a couch and sat down pondering the events of the previous night.

Sitting there Severus Snape came to a conclusion. He needed a shower and to change. And the room that would help him was behind the fated door. His eyes went back to the door. Would he chance it? Standing back up and crossing the room he grabbed the handle and tried to turn it. Surprised when the charms that had been there last night weren't any more. He shrugged they must have fallen when Harry had fallen asleep. He just hoped the young man still was. He pushed the door open and stared at the clean room. The bed was made and there was no sign of anything. The trunk that was on the floor was gone and so was Potter. Panic burst from deep inside him as he rushed to the fireplace. The fire that was there long ago already out. Grabbing a handful of floo powder he threw it in the fireplace and called out headmaster's office before steeping into the green flames.

A/N I have been trying to find a way to end this chapter or take it further but right now I don't feel like it can go any further right now. So until the next chapter. Nights!