The Potion Master's Apprentice

Chapter 8

"We're starting with a heavily regulated potion, dreamless sleep. I know Madame Pomfrey has given it to you in the past and that you're well acquainted with what it does as well as its addictive properties if taken too frequently. I'll guide you, but I wish for you to work at your own pace without me having to tell you what to do. Feel free to ask questions." They brewed for the better part of the afternoon, with Harry asking questions about anything he wasn't clear on and Snape ensuring that mistakes didn't happen.

"Very good, you've actually managed to brew this to my normal standards. We'll stop for now for dinner, was there anything in particular you're in the mood for?" Harry followed Snape back into the dinning area and sat down at the table.

"Not really, I'm not that picky." Snape nodded and tapped the table twice with his wand. Their goblets filled quickly, followed by two small individual roasts for each of them as well as rice and roasted vegetables. Harry's roast was medium, just how he liked it. He couldn't help but notice that Snape's was medium rare, more on the rare side.

"Tonight I'd like for you to think about what could be done to speed up the process of dreamless sleep and the reasonings behind it. Tomorrow we'll talk about theory."

"Yes sir."

"Oh, and Harry?" Harry looked up and swallowed the bit of carrot he had just put into his mouth. "When it's only the two of us, you may call me Severus. I believe I've told you this before."

Harry nodded and smiled. It would take getting used to, calling him Severus. A lightweight feeling floated through him, but he pushed aside his feelings in favor of the meal in front of him.

Things progressed naturally from there for the two. They would spend a day or two on theories before and after brewing the next potion. Harry noticed that Severus had a few quirks and was keeping a list of all the things he noticed in his rooms when they weren't brewing.

The man loved music. Specifically, he loved piano classics. So far his favourite was Una Mattina, although he was beginning to suspect that his improvisations could top that.

He had to take at least three potions a day-a set of some sort-one with each meal. He hadn't noticed the color, only the glint of glass as the potion was consumed directly or poured into his goblet. He had noticed that the vial wasn't the smooth usual sort that Severus used. It had angles and sparkled like crystal glass. Not the usual sturdy kind that was made to be unbreakable against unruly students.

He was incredibly old fashioned about weird things. Harry had figured out the man believed that courting was essential in any relationship when they happened across a couple practically having sex in Diagon Alley just before dusk had settled completely.

The speech he used sometimes had an old-timey lilt to it. Almost as if he learned a much older form of grammar. Harry loved it, and even found himself starting to adapt to it when he talked on occasion.

His drink with dinner was always in his opaque obsidian goblet. Harry had asked about it once, and was informed that the inside was actually cut from a ruby and was made by goblins. It had been given to him as a gift from Gringotts some time ago. Harry could never figure out what the man mixed his potions with, but he also never pressed. It was probably bourbon or cognac of some sort anyway.

The man really liked his red meat and he really liked it medium rare to rare although they did have chicken and fish occasionally.

He had his potions ingredients sorted by their storage conditions and then alphabetically and by date rather than just alphabetically. It kept the rarer ingredients in better condition. He kept his potions classroom supply only alphabetically because the classes used the ingredients before anything untoward would occur to them.