Plot: Yes, I plead guilty. I have done it again. I gave him detention. On his first Hogsmeade Saturday of the year. Yes, I'm that bad. In my defense, I caught the brat red-handed while drawing a caricature of me during yesterday's Defense Against the Dark Arts theory lesson. Snarry. Yaoi.

Disclaimer: Snape isn't mine, shame!

Note: Well, this is my first HP fic… (yup, that's me trying to find an excuse for the mediocrity of this story! Lol). Apart from that, it is set during Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts, although that doesn't mean it'll follow the book's plot.

Please, bear in mind that I'm French, hence the English mistakes! ;-)

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CHAPTER 1.

Yes, I plead guilty. I have done it again. I gave him detention. On his first Hogsmeade Saturday of the year. Yes, I am that bad.

In my defense, I caught the brat red-handed while drawing a caricature of me during yesterday's Defense Against the Dark Arts theory lesson. Such an insolent little twit! But it's not exactly big news, is it?

Anyway, he's lucky enough I haven't sent him to the Headmaster straight away. Well, come to think of it, the old bat would have probably found that hideous picture amusing. I sneer and look at the damned drawing again. What's up with my nose? It looks like a parrot's beak! He's nearly as bad at drawing as he is at making potions.

I put it back in my drawer and I begin to mark the pile of papers that was waiting for me on my desk. The one on top of the pile is actually Potter's one. I can't suppress a smirk at the irony. I dip my quill into the inkwell and rub my hands in glee and anticipation.

God, this is even worse than I thought! And there was me thinking it couldn't be worse than his last years potions' papers…

I glance at him and notice he isn't copying anything. Instead, he's staring at the window. Probably thinking of the dunderheads he's proud to call his friends, enjoying themselves in Hogsmeade. He looks so sad I almost feel pity for him. Almost, I said!

"Potter!"

He winces and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose to look at me.

"Don't you have better things to do? If you don't quit staring at that window, you'll spend all your Saturdays here with me!"

I must admit I'm horrified that I am not disgusted by such a perspective.

"This is not fair!" He yells indignantly.

"Oh, really?"

He gulps as I make my way to his table and bend over to glare at him.

"Well, you'll think twice before drawing a picture of me in class!" I smirk.

I turn around, ready to go back to my desk, quite happy that I've made him angry.

"Not my fault if you have no sense of humour, Professor!"

I stop dead in my tracks.

No sense of humour, huh?

"Who do you think you're talking to, Potter? Ten points from Gryffindor. Your insolence really knows no limits! Besides, humour is for idiots. I have much better things to do with my precious time than use my zygomaticus muscle."

"Your what?" He asks, a dumb look on his face.

I sigh and mentally add "Brain-challenged" to the long list of the boy's faults.

"The facial muscle that draws the angle of your mouth upward and outward when you laugh or smile, Potter."

At those words, the brat bursts out laughing and it really gets on my nerves.

"What's so funny about it?" I ask him, losing what little patience I had left.

"With all due respect, Professor, I really doubt you've got such a muscle!" He says, grinning.

I raise an eyebrow.

"And may I ask you why, Potter?"

"Well, I've never seen you smile, let alone laugh! As far as I know, you may very well be toothless, which would explain why you never dare to laugh…"

That's got to be the stupidest thing I've ever heard in my life (well, second in fact. First one being Dumbledore asking me to help him "protect Lily's son" some fifteen years ago. The irony!) and I have to bite my lower lip not to laugh, actually. The boy should really get an award for his stupidity. And for his insolence as well! He's even worse than Jam… than his idiot father.

"Enough, Potter!" I yell at him, banging my fist on the table and trying my best to look furious. "This time, you're really spending your next Saturday in detention again! Don't say I didn't warn you!"

He lets out a long sigh and rolls his eyes.

"That's exactly what I was saying, you've got no sense of humour…"

I ignore his remark and go back to my desk, snickering and quite pleased with myself that I've found another excuse to spend some extra time with him.

Merlin's beard! What happened to me? I silently curse myself for being so weak. I am not allowed to think about him that way. I am a teacher, he is a student. I am a responsible adult, he is a disruptive teenager. I am old enough to be his father and, if ever it wasn't enough, he is Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the most famous teenager in the Wizarding World, the one Voldemort is after. I know all that, and yet I can't help it. The boy attracts me like a magnet. Besides, the older he gets, the more he resembles his… Well, never mind…

I look back at his paper on my desk and try to concentrate.

"Professor Snape, are you ok?" I hear him say.

I raise an eyebrow quizzically in his direction.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, I don't know… You looked very thoughtful… Almost world-weary…"

And here we are! Another one of his countless faults. The brat always pokes his nose into other people's business!

"Indeed, I am marking your test and it is a total disaster. So how did you expect me to look?" I sneer. "Anyway, I do appreciate your concern, Mister Potter."

He rolls his eyes again and I feel relieved.

An hour or so passes by.

"You may go, now, Potter." I say, breaking the silence.

"But it's not even five!" He protests.

"Am I to believe you enjoy my company so much that you would like to spend the whole evening with me? Then I'm afraid I'm going to disappoint you but I have other fish to fry."

He grins.

"See, you can be funny when you try to!" He beams.

What??!

I glare at him reproachfully.

"I wasn't trying anything! Good evening, Mister Potter." I say, looking back at the D.A.D.A papers.

I can still feel his gaze on me and I let out a long sigh.

"What are you waiting for, Potter?"

He is playing nervously with his quill.

"Professor?"

"Hmm…" I mumble, trying to sound annoyed.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry if I have… err… upset you… But it was just a caricature, you know. You actually don't look that bad and your nose isn't that…"

"Potter?" I interrupt him.

"Yes Sir?"

"Go away."

The insolent brat grins again and complies, much to my relief.

Upset me? Who does he think he is? It takes more than that to upset the great wizard I am. I haven't been the slightest bit upset by his stupid drawing.

Alright, alright… Maybe I was a little irritated but… What does he mean 'I don't look that bad'?!

Damn brat.

Thanks for reading!

I' m not sure yet whether I should continue this or keep it as a one-shot. Well, I'll see! :)