He stood back, watching as his NEWT students attempted to disarm and stun their opponent, non-verbally. He wasn't stupid; he knew they were muttering under their breath. Sighing, Professor Snape walked through the group of his favourite, Slytherin, students over to where Ron Weasley was attempting to stun Harry. "Pathetic Weasley," he said, after a while, "Here – let me show you," he finished, pushing Ron aside.
The class stopped to watch their Professor and the famous Harry Potter, whom they knew loathed each other, even if they didn't exactly understand why. Snape raised his arm slightly, to pull down his sleeve, so as not to get it stuck on his wand, or affect his movement. Meanwhile, Harry was glaring at Snape with a look of such hatred, reminding Snape of their conversation earlier, after Harry had arrived at the school gates late, in muggle attire.
Severus attempted to mask his glee feeling; a feeling only aroused when he was able to get at Harry for something – he felt as though he was getting James back in a way. Once more, the pale faced Professor stood, looking at Harry, who glared back fiercely. They raised their wands, and bowed to one another briefly. "One...Two...Thr..." Before Snape was able to count to three, Harry had drawn back his wand and yelled, "Protego."
The class watched in amazement as their teacher flew back across the classroom. A few of them snickered, but, wisely, many chose to stay quiet as they watched in awe. Harry's shield charm had been so strong that, once Snape had flown backwards into the desk, the desk could be seen to move backwards slightly too, against the impact of the grown man. The few students who hadn't been watching the Harry and Snape confrontation before, now watched in fear as their teacher righted himself from the desk, scowling. In his mind, Snape recalled the many other times a foolish messy haired boy in glasses, had embarrassed him in front of a group of people;
It is worse, now, than it was back then; hanging upside down from a tree as Lily watched on in horror. For now, the arrogant little brat's offspring appears to have developed some of his father's feelings towards me, and he doesn't look as though he will hesitate, like his father before him, to abuse me in front of an audience of fifth and sixth years. They all looked at me fearfully, even the Slytherin students don't know what to do about it, how to react. As i look past them, I can see Potter, standing with a smug look on his face. How I would love to remove that grin from his face, how I would love to be able to stand up, draw my wand and make him suffer, as I wished I had been able to do against James, for so long.
Unknown to the students, a battle raged through Snape's head, as he looked down at the boy before him. The boy who shared such similarities with his father, that it was often unnerving for Severus to pass him by in the corridor, for fear of being hexed as he constantly had been, long ago. Despite wanting desperately to curse Harry, Snape knew that, especially in a class full of other students, such a thing wouldn't have been allowed. And so, as he tried to control his furious breathing, Snape began to walk back over to where the boy stood, looking moderately satisfied.
"Do you remember me telling you we are practising Non Verbal spells, Potter?" Snape asked him, trying to keep his voice in control. Uncaring, Harry nodded, replying stiffly; "Yes." Rolling his eyes in frustration and annoyance, Snape addressed Harry again, as he attempted to remind him who exactly was in charge this time, "Yes, Sir." Snape breathed steadily, awaiting the boy's reply as he tried to calm himself down.
He's only a child, of course, James was too, but you're an adult now Severus, pull yourself together, he can't do the things his father did, he'd be kicked out of the school. Look hard, Severus; he must have some of his mother in him somewhere, deep down, she was a nice person, after all. Just breathe, keep calm.
Sneering, Harry, who incidentally had been having a battle in his head of his own, turned his attention back to the tall dark man whom he seriously hated, and replied, "There's no need to call me Sir, Professor." Snape's eyes tightened as he once again tried to keep himself calm. The words had escaped Harry's lips before he knew what he was saying, he hadn't really meant to say them. Raising an eyebrow at the rude, disrespectful behaviour, Snape said the only thing he could, as a plan came to his mind, "Detention, Saturday night, my office," he began, "I do not take cheek from anyone, Potter, not even...the Chosen One," Snape jeered.
As the bell rang out signalling the end of class, Snape watched on as he righted his desk, at the retreating figure of Harry James Potter. How he would have loved to curse him at that point...