Neville nervously chewed on his lower lip as he waited outside the locked dining room at 12 Grimmauld Place. He was waiting for his first private Potions lesson, absolutely convinced there was no way this was going to go well. No way at all.

Surprising everyone, Neville had not only expressed interest in becoming an Auror, but also managed to scrape by with an A on his Potions O.W.L. Not good enough for Professor Snape's N.E.W.T. Potions, of course, but the headmaster recognised the interest Neville's class demonstrated in pursuing the Auror careers, so an Auror Potions class was cobbled together for 6th and 7th year students, taught by Mad-Eye Moody. Professor Dumbledore had also decided that Hermione, Ron, Harry and Neville could be involved in Order business because, as Moody so eloquently put it, "they insisted on sniffing around the Order's arse, anyway."

Over their Christmas holidays, the four were expected to have private lessons with Snape, focusing on potential Order-related missions - Neville's worst nightmare come to life and just when he started excelling at Potions, too. Neville sighed heavily, jumping when Harry slammed the door to the dining room.

"Merry fucking Christmas to you, too, you greasy, insufferable git," Harry muttered, as he disgustedly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Neville moved towards him, but Harry blew past him to Professor Lupin, who'd been speaking heatedly with Mrs. Weasley a few moments ago. Neville stared at Harry as he passed and Mrs. Weasley and Lupin both began fawning, touching Harry's arms and staring sympathetically. "Bah!" shouted Harry, pushing them away and running up the stairs.

Severus Snape then framed the dining room doorway, smirking after Harry's retreating form. He beckoned Neville with one long finger. "Your turn, Longbottom." Snape turned, robes flapping behind him and Neville gulped. No, this definitely wasn't going to go well.

Inside the room, Snape eyed Neville critically. "Today, you will be brewing a love potion. Then, you shall test it on yourself, in order to ensure you won't blunder it too badly."

Neville gulped again. In a squeaky voice, he stammered, "L-Love potions, Professor? But aren't those illegal?"

Snape raised an eyebrow and sneered. "If you're ever competent enough to go on missions for the Order - something which I highly doubt - you'll need to charm informants of all sorts. You can't expect to rely on your somewhat questionable charms, can you, Mr. Longbottom?"

"I s-suppose not," Neville replied.

"Get started, then." Snape transfigured a chair into a chalkboard, applying the ingredient list and instructions to its surface. Neville got to work, chopping and stirring and counting off, the way Mad-Eye had taught him to calm his nervousness. He checked the ingredient list over and over and made sure he moved in the correct order. Desperately, he tried to ignore Snape's form hovering over him. When the mixture turned clear with a pinkish-red tone, he took his cauldron off the fire and added the down of a dove. Expectantly, he looked up at Snape.

"Well, Longbottom, what are you waiting for? Test it."

Neville nervously ladled out a small amount and drank the mixture. It kind of tasted like strawberries and...was that dirt? Neville made a face, but felt nothing. He waited a couple of seconds before turning to Professor Snape and disappointedly saying, "I don't think it's wor-mmmphhmmmll."

Snape had launched himself onto Neville, pushing his tongue into his mouth, which honestly, wasn't too difficult, as Neville's mouth had dropped open from shock. He then realised that not only was he kissing someone, not only was someone else's tongue in his mouth, which had never happened before, but that this person was Snape. What was even more shocking is that he was enjoying it, as a moan involuntarily escaped his lips.

The Potions professor started pulling at Neville's robes, never breaking the kiss. Neville felt hands in places he never thought he'd feel hands that weren't his own and he gasped and pulled away. "Professor, is this okay?"

"Less talk, more action, Longbottom," Snape snapped.

"Yes, sir," replied Neville, wide-eyed.

With a wave of his wand, Snape stripped both he and Neville down to their pants. When Neville got an eyeful of Snape's black silk boxers, he suddenly felt very self-conscious in his white y-fronts. Not only because his underpants were so plain, but because of the very, very evident hard-on he was sporting. It didn't really matter, though, because Snape had soon removed them too and pushed Neville onto the dining room table, scattering Potions ingredients every which way.

Neville let out feathery breaths when he felt Snape's tongue on his nipple, he gasped when that tongue moved down his chest and onto his stomach, and he nearly lost consciousness when that hot, wet mouth engulfed his erection, sending him into spasms of ecstasy. He could feel Snape's chest brush against his legs and his fingers lightly flutter along his inner thighs. Neville moaned and really, really couldn't believe this was happening to him. He could feel the tension build, shocking himself when he yelled, "Oh gods, yes, Professor Snape!" and shot into his teacher's mouth.

After a moment, Snape got up and loomed over Neville, still sporting an erection of his own. Neville eyed him hungrily. "Could I try doing that to you?"

Forty-five minutes later, Neville left the dining room, smiling when he heard Snape call after him, "We'll be working on variants of that potion for the rest of the week, Longbottom. Be sure to read up."

Neville wandered out to the sitting room, where Harry was sitting near the Christmas tree, a pile of toothflossing stringmints next to him. Harry popped mint after mint into his mouth, offering some to his friend. "Wasn't that horrible?" asked Harry.

Inwardly grinning, Neville nodded and solemnly replied, "Worst Potions lesson ever."