Exploding Potions

~Exploding Potions~

As his most recent creation had been in its most treacherous state he had opted to sleep on the sofa in his office (which was spelled to be the exact size he needed it to be when sat on) that night. He had placed a charm that would wake him after he received an hour’s sleep and had been woken four times throughout the night, at which point it had been safe enough for him to sleep for a solid three hours.

He had woken at dawn to his dungeon chamber’s usual inky blackness. The next ingredient to go into the potion that he had been preparing for the last fortnight was in no way volatile so he charmed the fire to stay low as to keep the concoction at a constant simmer.

The first classes of the day went by smoothly. His Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff Third year class’s scheduled test allowed him to catch up on the marking that his activities from the previous night had left undone. During his First year Gryffindor/Slytherin class, he brought the Gryffindor’s down by nearly one hundred points thanks to the sheer stupidity of the latest generation. His Second year class directly before lunch even managed to keep from destroying all of their potions.

In the Great Hall he succeeded in avoiding Hooch, as she was still demanding a rematch for the last two on two game of Quidditch he had played against her and won he might add. Minerva sat next to him and they made their bets on the latest romance among the children between the youngest Weasley and a strangely bland Hufflepuff. He had time to shove a pickle sandwich and - thankfully - a Yorkshire pudding down his throat and wash it down with a swallow of lukewarm, black coffee before hurrying out to his potion.

He reached his personal lab with thirty seconds until the next step of his potion was scheduled. He dropped a precisely measured amount of asphodel into the cauldron and watched as the thick substance immediately thinned out. He grimmaced as he hefted the medium sized cauldron into the icebox. Now he knew that he had forty-eight hours to work out the next step. Nevertheless, he was greatly satisfied with his results up to this point.

Making his way back to his classroom and the group of Seventh years that were scheduled for Double Potions that afternoon, he mentally tallied what the next ingredient that could be used without risk of destroying all of his work up to this point. Sweeping into the room, he couldn’t help but sneer at Longbottom who sat in the seat closest to the door. Out of the twelve students in the class, with Potter included, Longbottem was the last person he had ever expected to make it into the Advanced Potions class.

With a flick and swish of his wand, along with a muttered spell, the instructions for the day’s assignment appeared on the front board. For the first ten minutes while the majority of chopping, slicing, and measuring took place, he sat at his desk and quickly marked the tests from earlier in the day. After that, he began circling the class as per usual.

The off color of Potter’s potion earned the boy a detention to be served immediately at the end of the class. He then explained how to rectify the mistake and moved on. Granger whispering instructions to a barely awake Weasley cost each ten points. The single Ravenclaw stayed silent and her potion nearly perfect so he moved on while making a mental note to return within ten minutes to see if the potion was as it should have been.

It had been a very good day. As it was Friday, he planned to spend the rest of his day simply researching for his pet project. Potter’s detention would most likely be served within two hours so he could look forward to an evening spent in leisure.

The fact that he had had a good day thus far should have warned him. He should have been aware of the foreshadowing that was being cast over him. In the very least he should have avoided Longbottem in an attempt to keep his day uninterruptedly calm.

The moment he came around to check Longbottom’s potion there was a sickening squelching sound. It was the second term and Longbottem had yet to cause an explosion, though his potions were anything but perfect. He should have known to grab the boy in that moment of stillness. Instead he shouldered the teen out of the way and therefore received the brunt of the explosion.

With the sound of a train tearing through one of those muggle automobile contraptions, he was covered from the top of his head to the middle of his chest in room temperature, neon green slime. Instinctively, his tongue darted out the clear the mess from his lips before he barked out a cleaning spell. He inspected the room and the teens seated closest to him for the slime and found the stuff hanging from the ceilings and wall; the backs of the Ravenclaw girl and the Slytherin who sat at her side; and the left arm of Longbottem.

He quickly cast the same cleaning spell over all three student before ordering them into Pomfrey’s care. As Longbottem neared escape he informed the teen that he would be expected back at seven o’clock to clean every surface touched by his failed potion. The rest of the class was ordered back to work as he made his way to his desk.

He could already feel the potion - if it could be called that - working its way through his blood stream. Desperately he racked his brain for what the effects might be. Though the order in which ingredients were added could have been mixed up, Longbottem could very well have done the potion according to instruction while his cauldron had not been properly scoured. That could mean any number of symptoms, as the class before they had prepared a complex cleaning potion used by many Mediwitches and wizards who needed to clear up messes too strong for a simple cleaning spell.

By the end of the class he could feel a cloud of lethargy capture him and he distantly recognized the burning sensation in his abdomen from previous encounters with aphrodisiacs. His movements as he collected the phials from each of the students were hesitant and jerky at best. As he once again sat behind his desk he couldn’t shift the feeling as if he was watching himself from an outsider’s view. He was reminded sickeningly of the one time he had entered his pensieve bodily instead of just watching from the bowl.

Potter approaching him immediately caused his distant self to become nervous. It was obvious that he was falling into the firm hold of the aphrodisiac. The-Glorious-Boy-Who-Just-Would-Not-Back-Down began to pester him the moment he told him to forget about his detention. In the end, Potter insisted on aiding him to the hospital wing.

The moment Potter touched his hand to steady him, he was horrified to find himself pushing the teen up against the nearest wall and ravaging his mouth. The fire that the touch had caused grew as he slid his thigh between Potter’s and found an answering hardness for the one that he ground into the teen’s hip. Surprisingly, he didn’t have to lean down very far to reach those full, pink lips. Keeping his cock in contact with Potter’s hip while trying to reach the teen’s incredibly long neck, though, caused pain to rip along his back.

From his distant position, he swore and cursed and threatened to never again self indulge should this continue. He detested this boy - this child. He could not allow this to happen, though he had no power to stop it.

It wasn’t long before robes were pushed aside and skin met skin. Potter started making low keening sounds as their cocks slid against each other aided by copious amounts of precome. He watched as his hand found its way under the teen’s shirt and obviously pinched a nipple, if Potter’s sudden sharp intake of breath was anything to go by.

Though it felt like hours passed, barely five minutes latter Potter bit his lip and groaned as he came, coating them both with his essence. He immediately spun The-Boy-Who-Was-A-Bloody-Good-Lay around, ran his fingers through the spunk that covered his chest, and pushed a finger into his tight hole.

Not long after that, he was buried balls deep in the teen’s spasm-ing channel. Even from that distant place that his mind was at, he couldn’t refute that he had never felt this good before. The fire in his stomach was blazing out of control and it was all he could do to stop himself from letting this end too soon.

The second he felt the teen move against him, he began to piston his hips savagely. He continually shifted his hips until he had Potter stifling screams into the arms that were cushioning him against the stone wall. That was when he reached around and grabbed The-Boy-Who-He-Was-Buggering’s renewed erection. He jerked in time with his thrusts and it wasn’t long before the teen came once again.

His cock was caught in a vice grip that brought his distant self back into him, there was nothing more he could do but fall over the edge and empty himself into that grasping body. For a long time his body was tense as he came until he finally fell forward, limp with exhaustion. His cock fell from its sheath and echoing moans sounded at the loss of contact.

The silence that followed their union was vastly oppressive. He pulled away from the teen, face red with shame and quickly closed his robes. Wanting very much to pretend like nothing had happened, he turned back around to find Potter obviously still enjoying the afterglow, though decent.

Instead of screams of anger for what could very easily be called rape, he found himself being comforted and asked if the potion had run its course. He informed the teen that his desired was sated for the moment but as time wore on, it would increase. He could feel that fire smoldering and though he could once again control himself, his hold was precarious at best.

Amazingly, the teen kissed him softly and blushed while stuttering out that maybe they should move to his chambers before the second go ‘round. Dazed but aware that if he rejected Potter now he could be sentencing himself to a long, drawn out, and painful death, he agreed.

Later, he decided that he was glad he had been oblivious as to the foreshadowing of that day. Glad that he had approached Longbottem. He was even glad at his stupidity for ingesting that potion.

For once Longbottem received top marks. The teen had unintentionally created a very powerful aphrodisiac with only a single side affect of disconnectedness and the main symptom leading to a strong, lasting relationship with The-Boy-Who-He-Refused-To-Admit-That-He-Loved-And-Loved-Him-Back.