All right everyone this is my first story ever and I have no idea what i'm doing. (well i should be paying attention to my Geography teacher but he's just so damn boring so...) Anyway please help me out and tell me what you think so far.

Cheerio's Ebony

Ps. I don't exactly know where this story is going jet so it might take me some time to figure that out. So feel free to make suggestions for they are very much appreciated.

Potion Frustrations

Harry was in an abandoned potions classroom trying hard to make sense of his feelings while brewing up some potions a client had ordered from him earlier.

He knew that if anyone were to see him now, they wouldn't believe their eyes. Seeing as ever since first year Harry had screwed up almost every potion he'd ever tried to brew during potions class. Not that anyone would see him, it was the middle of the night, far past curfew. The reason he did so badly during classes was not because it was hard or anything, no it was actually very easy once you got the hang of it, to him potions was like cooking .And thanks to his aunt Petunia forcing him to help in the kitchen he'd been cooking since he was five and though he hadn't been brewing potions for as long, he still loved it just as much if not more than cooking. No, the reason was that he just couldn't concentrate in that class. And that was all because of one dark-haired potions master.

Ever since first year really, every time the man came near him Harry would get this strange feelings inside of him, he became jittery and inattentive, it was all he could do not to show these emotions let alone concentrate on brewing a potion, this off course caused a great many accidents to happen in that class. He knew he could do better, he was great at potions when he didn't have to fight the urge to loose himself in those deep dark eyes or the sound of that sultry bedroom voice or just fleeing the moment those feelings came bubbling up to the surface. It didn't help at all the man he was pining for hated his guts, especially now.

Tonight had been another one of those occlumency lessons, but he had been called away by a certain blond Slytherin, who enjoyed making his life even more difficult than it was to begin with, to stop Peeves, the poltergeist, who was causing trouble in their common room. Harry had been left in his office, all alone with a pensive which contained memories he did not wish Harry to see, if he, by chance, managed to break into his mind again. He couldn't resist, he had to see what he was trying to hide from him.

Off course he got caught. And now no more occlumency lessons and no more alone time with him, as hard as the lessons had been he was going to miss them. It had taken him all the control he had keep up appearances, instead of simply breaking down on the spot and start crying in front of the man that for over five years now held his fancy, if not more than that.

Brewing potions right now was the only thing he could do to calm his frustrations in a productive way. Ron and Hermione thought he was using the notes the Halfblood Prince had written in that old potions book, most of the things in there he knew already or had found other alternates for. He wasn't going to correct them on that account though, this at least gave him a good excuse for doing good in class now, the real reason was that potions was now being thought by Professor Slughorn . Off course now He was teaching DADA. Thankfully that class didn't require any complex combinations of volatile ingredients that could end up blowing up in his face if he didn't pay attention to what he was doing. It also helped that in DADA he mostly relied on survival instincts which meant that in a duel, even with barely any challenge to speak of, he never let his focus be distracted from his rival.

So far he has had nothing to complain about in this class, though Harry could tell this was pissing Him of even more.

'You know what pisses me of he thought; not the fact that he insults my father, I barely knew the man, after what I saw tonight I can't really blame him for doing so. No it's the fact that he's directing his anger towards James Potter onto me. I'm not James bloody Potter, I'm his son nothing else. So I look a little like the man, the only things we have in common is that we're both seekers and we're both Gryffindors, and even that's debatable. That's also where all similarities end, my life is nothing like what his was portrayed to be like neither is my personality. I wonder if things would have been different if I didn't need to keep up this bloody charade.'

He could have been a Slytherin, their common room as far as he had seen it was sure a shit load better than the hell hole called the Gryffindor common room he was stuck with now. He's regretted letting himself be sorted into that house the moment he stepped in there. Surrounded by impossibly bright colors, that, even after six years, still gave him an eyesore and a headache the size of Australia the moment he set eyes on them, the noise of a bunch of idiots that refuse to shut up, ever, and seemed to be stuck on one volume at al times, one very loud volume. The one time he had been in the Slytherins common it had been full of other student but it had been relatively quiet, the place had been a bit dark in the evening but it had been cool, not like in the red house where the heat seemed to be set on suffocating him, the colors had been soothing rather than irritating and he'd felt right at home there, he'd felt reluctant to leave but considering the circumstances it had been necessary as not to blow his cover. He didn't think Malfoy would have been happy to find out that he and Ron Weasley had been spying on him with the use of Pollyjuice that day.

Still lost in thought he added some sliced star root to the simmering lust potion and stirred it , first seven times clock wise then three times counter-clockwise followed by one more clockwise stir, the potion still needed about five minutes before it was done , the Veritaserum another twenty but the pepper-up and dreamless sleep potions were just about ready now, they only needed some time to cool down before he flasked them.

"Maybe I should make another batch of dreamless sleep for myself , probably the only way I'll get any sleep after today", he muttered bitterly. "Bloody Gryffindor mentality, just had to pick that moment to kick in after all this years, after trying so hard not to let myself be sucked in by the house of idiots. Gods I swear if I a actually start becoming like those fucking Gryffindorks then Slytherin help me I might just have to off myself' he sneered into the empty room. "At least if my IQ level doesn't drop low enough to do it for me. It already dropped fifty the moment I got into that blasted house so why not another fifty to even it out, that should work to get me down to their level of intelligence."

He stirred the lust potion one last time before extinguishing the fire beneath it. Silently flicking his hand to direct the now cooled down potions to flask themselves he continued on in his monologue.

"Should have listened to the bloody hat in the first place. This is probably my punishment for refusing it's decision, it could have put me in any other house, Ravenclaw or even Huffelpuff for all I care. But no, of course not, it puts me into Gryffindor. The house of daring nerve and chivalry my arse, more like air headed and rash if you ask me", he scowled darkly as he stirred the Veritaserum the required nine times counter-clockwise and then three more times in a controlled eight patern, adding powdered chipatter horn, he repeated this process three more times before extinguishing the fire.

"If I hadn't had to keep up appearances I could have been a Slytherin, but no Harry freaking Potter, the-boy-who-just-wouldn't-bloody-die couldn't be associated with Slytherin, the house of the supposed future dark lords what would people think? No

Harry Potter has to be a beacon of light, a symbol hope, a savior, a Gryffindor". Well fine, he thought out loud, he'd fulfill the prophesy, he'd kill Voldemort. It was either that or be killed and he wasn't that sick of life yet.

The maybe then he could finally be himself. No more crazy psychopaths trying to kill him every bloody year, or twisted old coots trying to control his every move, no more playing houself for the Dursley's or being Dudley's punching bag ( when that fat whale can catch him that is). And hopefully he'd finally stop thinking about Him every waking moment of the day and sleep without dreaming of Him when not having visions or being sucked into the head of a madman. And then the only thing the old coot can think of is some useless Occlumency lessons. For Slytherin's sake, Voldemort was already in his head, putting up shields won't keep out that that's already there. If it could Harry would have been able to block the Dark Wanker since last year. Harry nearly snarled as he extinguished the flames of his last two potions while he ranted on, not noticing the lone figure that had been watching him from the shadows for the past forty minutes.