"You're The Half-Blood Prince!"
Please read "Who Is The Half-Blood Prince", the prequel to this story.
Big thanks to all of my reviewers, followers, and readers! I know it's been awhile since I last updated. I appreciate your patience! I wish I could update more quickly but work keeps me rather busy!
Summary, disclaimer, and warnings posted in previous chapters.
In this chapter: Finally, the confession! Harry will reveal to his Prince that he knows who he is! How will the Prince react?
After this chapter there will be just one more posting (the epilogue). About a third of its written already so hopefully it won't take too long to finish.
I hope you enjoy!
CHAPTER 6
HPSS HPSS HPSS
Several days later...
As Harry and his friends made their way towards the Potions classroom, they passed by a group of third-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws grumbling and complaining. When they caught "greasy git" and "right bastard," the three looked at each other in surprise. Hermione stopped one of the Ravenclaws. "Excuse me, did you just come from Professor Slughorn's class?"
The Ravenclaw made a face. "Potions. But Professor Slughorn is sick. Snape is substituting." She scurried off, as if she couldn't wait to escape the dungeons.
"Great! Just what we need," Ron exclaimed sarcastically. "As if Potions wasn't a difficult enough subject as it is. Too bad you don't have the Prince's book, Harry."
"Yeah," he responded, feeling a mixture of excitement and fear.
Hermione sighed. "We'll be fine, Ron, we just need to follow the directions carefully and not rush through any of the steps. Don't give Snape any reason to dock points or give detention."
"Easy for you to say," Ron muttered quietly.
When the rest of the class discovered that Snape was substituting for Slughorn, the Slytherins were as excited as the Gryffindors were disappointed. Snape certainly lived up to their expectations. He complimented Malfoy's efforts, quietly gave a bit of direction to a few of the Slytherins who had difficulties with their potions, and he stalked the classroom, sparing no criticisms for stirring and chopping techniques, most especially for the Gryffindors.
Harry tried to concentrate on his potion, but the dark silky voice was very distracting to him. He snuck glances as he diced roots and powdered dried leaves. He enjoyed the work; it was almost relaxing
He smiled as the man in black approached him silently and leaned over him from behind to inspect his potion.
Harry whispered, "I know you re the Half-blood Prince."
"And ? Are you disappointed?" Severus asked softly, his breath tickling his ear.
"Not one bit."
Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his ribs.
Harry jumped in surprise and knocked over an empty vial, which fell to the floor and clattered loudly.
"Bugger!" he exclaimed.
"Language, Potter! Abandon your adolescent fantasies and mind your potion, or you'll be serving detention!"
Harry looked up. The professor was standing at the front of the classroom. He turned his head and saw Hermione looking at him with narrowed eyes.
"Pay attention!" she hissed.
He shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably. "Sorry," he whispered.
She opened her mouth and then closed it quickly, as if she were going to say something and changed her mind. She turned back to her potion. Harry sighed. He was embarrassed at having been caught daydreaming and hoped he hadn't ruined his chances at a decent potion. He picked up the vial from the floor, unbroken as all of their vials were protected with a Shatter-proof Charm. He then read over the instructions on the board. With a quick glance at his ingredients he decided he was ready to start adding them to his cauldron.
He tried to focus on following the instructions while adding ingredients, and not look at Snape like he was tempted to do. But while stirring, especially for long periods, he just couldn't help himself. Twice Snape was glaring at him, but the rest of the time he was stalking around the room, monitoring the progress that other students were making.
When Snape was two tables away, Harry still had a couple more ingredients to prepare and add while Hermione was nearly ready to bottle her potion.
"Done already?" he exclaimed quietly.
"You wouldn't be so far behind if you kept your mind on your work," she scolded in a whisper. She gathered up her supplies and left to put them away in the store room.
Meanwhile Snape was heading his way. Harry gulped and looked down. He clumsily picked up his pestle and began to grind the winterfly wings into a powder. His skin prickled as Snape approached and leaned over his shoulder to inspect his potion.
"I know you re the Half-blood Prince," Harry whispered almost inaudibly. Immediately he wanted to die. The words had just fallen out of his mouth and it was too late to take them back. He had wanted to tell the man for so long, but now that he had finally done it, he was afraid.
"Your arrogance is astounding, Potter," Snape replied softly.
The man didn t sound angry. Harry took his chances. "You were wrong. I m not disappointed."
Harry turned his head slowly. They looked into each other s eyes, unblinking. The professor stood up straight and walked away.
"Potter, that potion is a dismal failure. See me after class," Snape drawled as he made his way back up to the front of the room. "You have five more minutes to finish your potions and submit a vial of it," he announced to the entire class.
Harry resumed preparation on the last ingredient angrily, so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice Hermione return. He didn't think that Snape's criticism was fair. But then Harry realized that Snape might have said that in order for them to have an excuse to talk in private. Those five minutes felt like five hours to Harry. He couldn t decide if he was more nervous or more excited. He fought the urge to look at the professor; he needed to focus op on finishing his potion...
He bottled his potion just in time. He joined a crowd of students turning in their vials and busied himself by putting away his potions supplies and equipment as slowly as he possibly could while everyone else scurried around. Hermione ignored him but Ron gave him a look of grave sympathy and clapped him on the back. After everyone left the classroom, Harry made his way up to the front of the room where the dark-eyed man stood by the desk, arms folded, eyebrows furrowed, and looking meaner than an offended Hippogriff. Harry grew hard from the intense unwavering stare. He wondered if perhaps there was something wrong with him that made him so attracted to someone who seemed to take pleasure in being cruel to him.
"Explain." The voice was cold and flat.
"Er... Explain what, sir?"
Snape stared for a moment without changing expression. "You disobeyed me. I believe I made it clear why you should forget about the Prince."
"I know... Sir... But I couldn't! I couldn't stop thinking about him. I had to know who he was!" Harry shyly took a step closer. "When I discovered it was you, it all made sense. And I wasn't disappointed! I'm glad it's you."
Snape continued to stare intensely. Harry felt a strange sensation he sometimes felt when Snape looked into his eyes. He wondered if Snape was using Legilimency. He hoped so. He kept his chin up and met the man's eyes, hoping that he would see his sincerity. He didn't even mind the thought of Snape seeing his fantasies, as embarrassing as it would be, if that's what it took for Snape to consider a relationship between them.
"Potter, these are dangerous times. You need to be careful about whom you trust, what you assume-"
"But I can trust you! And I don t assume it, I know it s true."
Snape raised an eyebrow.
"I suppose your lack of disappointment at this assumption of yours is due to your relief that your precious Prince wasn't the Dark Lord-"
"No! I mean, sure, I'm glad it's not him, but it's more than that. I'm glad that it's you."
Harry took a shaky breath. He continued to stare back at Snape. He knew he could be wrong but he couldn't help but think that Snape's eyes had softened a bit and had a look of curiosity. And he couldn't help but conclude that if he had no chance at all with Snape, that Snape would not waste his time with this. He would have simply chewed him out for disobeying him, insisted that his conclusions were wrong, criticized his lack of judgment, and assigned detention. He would not have bothered with questions and without a doubt he would have sneered most cruelly. Harry felt a surge of confidence. "I think you're brilliant. You're smart, creative, funny. The way you improve the potions and the comments you make about the author. The spells you invented. The way you make your robes billow and whirl. Everything you do, you know, for us. Your potion making skills, your dueling skills. You're bloody amazing!"
A dark eyebrow rose by a fraction. "Potter, if this is a lame attempt to bribe me into giving you an "O" for your NEWTs, you are horribly mistaken. You will have to earn it just like everyone else."
Harry blinked."What? No! That's not why I..." He shook his head. "I'm interested in you. I want to get to know you." He took a deep breath. "I would like to become friends. And maybe, if it works out, something more." He licked his lips nervously and forced himself to keep his eyes on the dark ones before him. "I'm attracted to you."
Snape seemed unaffected by what he admitted. His expression didn't change at all. "Don't be ridiculous," he whispered after a few awkward moments of silence.
Harry's heart thudded with excitement. He was feeling more confident than ever. He shook his head. "I wouldn't lie about something like this. And I'm not mistaken. I know my thoughts and I'm not confused about how I feel or how my body reacts to you. I do have feelings for you and I am attracted to you. I think about you in my bed every night. Use Legilimency or Veritiserum if you don't believe me."
Snape suddenly stepped forward and grabbed Harry's robes with both his hands. His face was just inches away. The nearness of the man made it difficult for Harry to breathe.
Snape stared deeply into Harry's eyes. "I will not repeat myself so listen carefully," he said softly. "One, you are an underaged student. There are rules against relations, intimacies, and harassment between teachers and underaged students. Two, you being attracted to me is as likely as me being attracted to you. Everyone knows that. And three, if you play with fire, you risk getting burned. You shouldn't act without thinking about the consequences and knowing what you are getting into. Do I make myself clear?" Snape's eyes bore into Harry's more intensely than earlier.
Harry was stunned and at first hurt by the words. But then he realized that there was no malice in Snape's expression nor tone. Yes, he was underaged. He hasn't thought it through before, but now that it was brought up, it made sense that there would be rules. Snape can't admit outright that he felt the same, but that second statement was practically a declaration - that is, assuming that Snape could tell that Harry was being truthful that he was attracted to him. He wasn't going to lose hope. But what did that last part mean? A threat of punishment if he's lying, or a warning that he's a more passionate or difficult lover than he's expecting?
"Do I make myself clear?" Snape repeated.
Harry swallowed. "Yes, perfectly clear, sir." He paused. " I will just have to wait until this summer."
Snape continued to stare and grip his robe tightly. It did seem to Harry, though, that Snape's eyes narrowed slightly as if in curiosity.
"I'll be seventeen on July 31st," Harry added with a small smile.
"Age is just a number, Mr. Potter. Maturity, wisdom, and responsibility is quite another."
"I'll remember that. Sir." Ah, maybe Snape's warning him that he'd better be serious, not just looking for a fling, if he pursues him, and indicating that he'd only be interested in him if he becomes more mature. Harry ponders that. Is he too immature, too much of a teenager? Is he ready to be more like an adult? Harry decides that yes, he is ready to grow up. And it's not just for the chance to have a real relationship with the man standing before him. He's nearly of age the Wizarding World and he's expected to play a big part in destroying Voldemort.
Snape released his robes, took a step back, and whirled around. "You are dismissed," he said firmly, his voice a little louder than earlier.
Harry stood still and watched as his professor reached the desk, made his way around it, and begin to organize the glass vials that were turned in by the class.
"Potter, you are dismissed. Go now before I start docking points," the man said firmly without looking up.
Harry smiled to himself. The conversation didn't go like he had fantasized, but it went pretty well considering how it could have gone. He left the room with a spring in his step. He would be playing back that conversation many times in the future, while daydreaming and laying in bed. His next birthday wasn't going to come soon enough.
He checked his watch and breathed a sigh of relief. He had just enough time to take care of his not-so-little problem in the boys restroom before grabbing a snack and getting ready for Quidditch practice.
HPSS HPSS HPSS
Meanwhile in the Potions classroom, Professor Snape tried to focus on his task of organizing trays of vials and stacks of essays for Professor Slughorn. He controlled his breathing, willed his body to calm, and with that his urgent erection soon wilted. He did not wish to indulge in such bodily pleasures until evening when the day was through.
When finished he quickly strode through the hallways to his own office. He closed and locked the door and added several privacy charms for good measure. Only then did he collapse into his chair and rest his head in his hands. His body shook with heavy breaths and chest convulsions, his body unable to decide whether to laugh or cry.
Harry was attracted to him! Severus would never have believed it if he hadn't seen for himself in Harry's eyes. But that wasn't enough to act on. Really all he could be sure of was Harry's sincerity, of his attraction and desire. There was no way of knowing how fleeting the emotions were, whether there was something more substantial like love and devotion, nor whether they would truly be compatible with each other. Compatibility in the bedroom was one thing, but in life was quite another. Severus could not remember the last time his heart pounded with such giddy excitement. The idea that someone, anyone, could desire him was unbelievable and intoxicating... even if it didn't last...
And then Severus stopped short. Harry wasn't attracted to him. Rather, Harry was attracted to the author of marginalia - hardly an appropriate basis for romantic attraction much less a meaningful relationship. Harry is a fool if he thinks he knows him just from reading one of his old schoolbooks. Severus sighed and wondered if Harry would still think as much of him if he really knew him.
That conversation was one of the most exciting and also scariest of his life. He was so afraid of revealing how he felt. He couldn't take the risk in case Potter wasn't being entirely truthful or if his feelings, while sincere, did not last. But he didn't want to throw away a chance for happiness. So... He gave some hints. He hoped that Potter was clever and attentive enough to figure it out. He was quite proud of himself for how he handled it. What he said could just as easily suggest that he did and that he did not return Potter's feelings. He was so thankful for his many years of self-discipline to not go about life wearing his emotions for all to see. That came in great use today.
At dinner Severus conversed with both Minerva and Horace, who by then was feeling much better. Several times he felt the uncomfortable sensation of being watched. He resisted the urge to see who it was, having his own suspicions, but after awhile he finally gave in. It was Harry. The young man was looking at him with what looked like nervousness or hope. Severus refrained from scowling, frowning, narrowing his eyes, and his other usual expressions. Instead, he simply looked back in return. Then he crinkled his eyes and tilted his head ever so slightly. Harry smiled softly. Severus felt a twitch at the corner of his lip. He quickly looked away and took a bite of mashed potatoes.
That night, under bedsheets and multiple privacy charms, two young men in opposite corners of the castle relived the conversation from earlier that day. They took their turgid members in hand and stroke them slowly, considering the possibilities that lay in store for them that summer, wondering what it would be like to kiss the other, wondering what it would be like to take each other to bed for the first time, wondering if a relationship between them had any potential of working. Each of them wondered if the other was also in bed doing the very same thing. Slow strokes gave way to quicker ones until the sigh of much needed release. Pillows were clutched as they drifted off to sleep, with thoughts of cuddles and sweet kisses.
HPSS HPSS HPSS
TBC... Just one more chapter left (the epilogue) and yes I am absolutely sure about that! About a third of it has been written already. :) And for those of you who were disappointed that this chapter was on the tamer side, I think that the epilogue will more than make up for it ;)
Please review! Thanks!