A/N: Oh, it is so good to be back. This past April was probably the longest month of my life. I've never studied so much for exams before, and it was absolutely exhausting.
To all of my wonderful readers, Thank You for being patient for the continuation of this story. I know it's been a long wait, but I finally have a new chapter for you! It isn't terribly long, but I wanted to get something posted fairly quickly to make up for all those weeks of nothing...
Enjoy!
Snape was having a terrible day.
He practically collapsed onto one of the several couches in the teacher's lounge located near the fireplace. He tilted his head back and rubbed at his temples then, trying in vain to stave off the impending headache he could feel coming on. They were becoming far more frequent as of late, and even his best headache potion didn't seem to make much difference.
"Are you feeling well, Severus?" a voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Absolutely fantastic," the man growled sarcastically as the Gryffindor Head of House sat down next to him, a cup of tea in hand.
"I heard there were some…complications in one of your fifth year classes?" McGonagall asked sympathetically. "Something about an exploding cauldron?"
"Three," the potions master corrected her. "Three exploding cauldrons, Minerva. All in quick succession. I've never seen such incompetence in all my life! And from fifth years, no less! These dunderheads are supposed to be taking their O.W.L.s this year!"
"Well, it is only September, Severus."
"The end of September," Severus emphasized. "It's practically October!"
"Which is still early in the year," McGonagall reasoned. "I'm sure your students will be more than ready for their exam when the time comes."
"Not likely," Snape grumbled.
"At least no one was seriously injured," the Transfiguration professor pointed out.
Snape offered nothing more than a grunt in response, and McGonagall thought that perhaps it was time to change the subject.
"If my calculations are correct," the woman said casually, "yesterday was the last day of Mr. Potter's detentions, was it not?"
Snape suppressed a sigh. He didn't want to have to think about the Potter brat right now. He had other things to worry about. Like how much he was going to wring the necks of those inept Hufflepuffs the next time he saw them. Three cauldrons!
"That is correct," he eventually replied in a tight voice, as he tried not to relive the last couple of nights over in his head. Potter had seemed to have had a never-ending supply of questions about his mother. And it didn't seem to matter that his professor refused to answer most of them. The infernal nuisance just kept asking.
"I'm sure both of you are quite relieved," McGonagall said, a small smile on her lips as she took a sip of tea.
"Indeed," the man muttered darkly. "You have no idea."
Snape made his way to the owlery sometime later, an envelope containing an order form for the apothecary clutched tightly in hand. He would now have to go through the task of replacing all of the ingredients that had been lost as a result of today's incident.
Every time he thought about that morning, the anger boiled up within him again, and he was just barely able to keep himself from shaking with rage. He had told the little idiots at the beginning of the year! He was not going to tolerate any more incompetence! A month's worth of detentions with Filch should teach them to pay attention to instructions in class!
He reached the top of the owlery's staircase at last and immediately moved in the direction of one of the school's large barn owls.
But then there was a fluttering of feathers, and another owl was suddenly landing on his shoulder. A large, snowy owl.
"And what exactly do you think you're doing?" Snape growled at the familiar bird.
"I think she really likes you, professor," came a voice from behind the potions master, causing the man to nearly groan. Of course the brat would have to be there.
"Potter," Snape responded, rounding on the boy, the irritation evident in his voice, "kindly call off your pet. Now."
"You did save her life, sir," Harry pointed out. "I think she might just want to thank you."
"I do not require thanks, Potter. Especially not from birds. Now take your owl so that I can get on with conducting my own business."
At those words, Hedwig suddenly stuck a foot out in front of her, balancing awkwardly on Snape's shoulder as she offered her services to the man.
An amused smile broke out across the second year's face then. "It looks like you have a volunteer, sir."
"I think I'll choose someone to carry my mail who hasn't been poisoned in the last couple of weeks," Snape sneered, as Harry finally moved forward to coax Hedwig off of Snape's shoulder.
The owl gave a small, offended screech at that, before moving to settle on Harry's shoulder instead.
"She's feeling much better, sir. I think she wants to start flying more."
"Short trips, only, Mr. Potter," Snape warned, as he walked over to attach his message to the leg of the barn owl he had been eying just a minute ago. "That was a nasty poison, and your owl may still tire easily."
"Yes, sir," Harry answered, just as Hedwig began arranging his hair with her beak.
No wonder the boy's hair is always a mess, Snape thought to himself, a look of distaste crossing his face. Even worse than his father.
The barn owl gave a soft hoot to Snape then, before taking to the air, the professor's letter tied securely to his foot as he flew out into the open sky.
The man turned to go then, but a small voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Professor?"
"What, Potter?" the man asked, whipping around and glaring at the boy, almost daring him to ask a stupid question.
But no doubt it was going to be another question about his mother.
"Sir," the boy began, running a hand through his atrociously messy hair, "I know my detentions are over and everything, but…"
Snape frowned as the boy trailed off. "But what, Potter?"
"I thought, well…I mean, if you would want me to…"
"You have exactly five seconds to articulate what you wish to say," Snape sneered. "And then I will be leaving."
"I thought maybe I could help you out with brewing more potions, sir," Harry said in a rush then. "I know you haven't finished all the ones for Madam Pomfrey yet, and—"
Snape held up a hand to stop the boy. He was sure the shock must have been visible on his face for a few seconds, but in the silence that followed, he was able to fully restore the emotionless mask across his features. He was pretty sure he knew what this was all about, anyway. Even now, he saw the boy reach inside his pocket, where he knew there was a picture of Lily. A picture that he had provided for the child.
"Mr. Potter, I take my work very seriously," the man finally replied.
"I know, sir—"
Snape once again held up his hand. "Your work in my class has been mediocre on the best of days. And those have been few and far between. Therefore, I can only conclude that you are not motivated by a desire to help me with potions, are you, Mr. Potter?"
Harry dropped his gaze to the floor. He knew it would be pointless to lie. "No, sir. Not entirely."
"Not entirely?" Snape asked in disbelief.
"Well, I do find your work interesting, sir."
"And you expect me to believe that?" came the scathing reply. "You've hardly been paying attention at all these last few days. You ask far too many questions, Potter, and none of them have to do with the potions we are brewing. So the answer is no."
"But I have been paying attention," Harry protested.
"No," the man repeated firmly.
And in the next moment, the potions master was sweeping down the owlery stairs.
Nobody was looking forward to potions class the day after the fifth-year cauldron incident. Not even the Slytherins. The word was that Snape's mood had been even fouler than usual since the accident, and the second years were fully expecting a rough class period down in the dungeons.
They weren't disappointed.
The littlest things seemed to set the professor off that day. If anything was the least bit off, or the least bit out of place with the variant of calming draught potion they were brewing that day, he would bring all of his wrath down on the student or students responsible.
"At this stage in the process, your potion should be a pale lavender in color," Snape spat out as he descended on Neville, who let out a very audible squeak of terror at the man's close proximity.
"So tell me, Mr. Longbottom," Snape continued, ignoring the boy's obvious fear, "why is your potion a light periwinkle?"
Neville opened his mouth to speak, but no sounds came out. The boy was paralyzed with fear, and Snape was showing no signs of sympathy.
"Shall I just assume it to be incompetence, then?" the man practically snarled, waving his wand at the contents of Neville's cauldron, vanishing them from sight. "That will be a zero for today's work, Longbottom. Begin cleaning up your station."
Harry frowned at the back of Snape's robes as the man moved over to the Slytherin side of the room. The professor was being entirely unfair. From what he had been able to see, there had been nothing wrong with Neville's potion. It had looked lavender enough to him.
"And just what do you think you are doing, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape's voice suddenly thundered. And Harry's head whipped around to watch this latest exchange, Neville's plight momentarily forgotten.
"Adding the willow bark, sir?" Malfoy sounded uncertain.
"Before the valerian?" Snape questioned.
"Does it matter?" the blonde asked without thinking.
It had been the wrong thing to say. And Harry was quite sure that had anyone but Malfoy dared to say it, Snape would have hexed them for it.
"Does it matter?" Snape hissed, leaning across the boy's desk. "Can you really think of no reason why it would matter, Mr. Malfoy?"
Malfoy frowned. He clearly hadn't expected to be on the receiving end of Snape's displeasure. "I, uh…"
"Mr. Potter," Snape suddenly barked, and Harry had to wonder how it was that he was getting dragged into this.
"Yes, sir?" Harry answered. Next to him, he could practically feel Ron glaring daggers at the professor.
"Why would it matter that Mr. Malfoy here is adding willow bark to his potion before the valerian?"
Harry swallowed nervously. He was pretty sure he knew the answer. He had been helping the potions master prepare batches of calming draught for the last couple days, after all. He just hoped Snape wasn't trying to trick him.
"Because the willow bark could make the potion more volatile without the valerian to neutralize it," Harry answered, trying to keep his voice from trembling with nervousness.
"Are you trying to blow up my classroom?" Snape demanded then, once again speaking to Malfoy. "Even Potter knows why it is important to add the valerian first. So what exactly is your excuse for being ignorant?"
Harry had never seen Malfoy's face so red. And the tension in the room was such that hardly anyone dared to breathe. It was clear that no one was safe from the man's anger today.
Snape sneered as he turned away and swept back to the other side of the room, stopping in front of Harry's cauldron.
"How many lavender sprigs did you add to your potion, Potter?" Snape asked brusquely.
"Three, sir," Harry answered, gripping the edge of the table tightly. He had known it was only a matter of time before he would get his own tongue-lashing.
"Why not four, as some of your classmates seem to have done?" Snape continued, glaring over at Ron as he spoke. The redhead immediately shrank back in his seat.
"Because we're making a child's dose of calming draught, sir."
"And is there a difference between a child's dose and an adult's dose, Mr. Potter?"
"If a child takes an adult dose, the potion may make the child's emotions go all over the place," Harry answered quickly, remembering his own experience with the adult dose the night of his detention with Filch. "Even if those emotions are muted."
"It is a sad day indeed," Snape stated then, his silky voice suddenly taking over, "when the only student in class who is half-way prepared for the lesson is Mr. Potter."
Both Ron and Hermione suddenly looked offended for their friend, but Harry kept his face expressionless.
"Class is dismissed," Snape snarled as he stalked back to his desk. "Don't even bother providing me with a sample of your potions, today. I will not waste my time marking them." The man waved his wand then, and all of the potions in the room disappeared.
"Git," Ron muttered darkly, as he and the rest of the class began cleaning up their stations. "Even when you know the answers, he insults you," he said to Harry, his voice incredulous.
"Yeah," Harry said absently, looking towards the front of the room, where Snape was still scowling at everyone in sight.
Then he and the professor locked gazes. And the man was suddenly speaking once more.
"Stay behind, Potter," the man snapped.
"Now what does he want?" Hermione whispered.
"Don't know," Harry answered. "I'll see you guys later, alright?"
His friends gave him identical uncertain looks, but eventually turned away to leave with the rest of the class.
And then he was once again alone with the professor.
A/N: So I hope you enjoyed this little chapter. It felt so good to be able to write for enjoyment again! Let me know what you think!
Thanks for reading!
-Ailee17