Drarry: I think I Fancy You?

Chapter 2

Harry made his way downstairs into the dungeons, focusing on getting to Snape's office.

'This is dumb.' Harry thought. Why should he be taking 'extra potions class' during Christmas break? He wasn't that bad, right?

Harry finally reached the door of head of Slytherin's office. He rapped the door, and a tall, slim figure with greasy,  withovergrown black hair stood before him. The man possessed a hooked nose and a permanent look of annoyance. He curled his lip. "Five minutes late, Potter." He said harshly. Harry glared at him.

"Yeah well in case you haven't noticed, this castle is pretty big and it takes a while to get around." He sneered.
Snape bit his lip. "Which is why, Potter, that we leave early when traveling somewhere far. But perhaps, you already know this... being the 'Boy Who Lived'? So tell me, what held you back?"

Harry glared with a more menacing look than before. "I'm here, aren't I?" He growled.
Snape returned the glare. "Very well, Potter." He said through barred teeth, harshly straining the t's. "10 points from Gryffindor for being late to class..." Harry rolled his eyes, thinking Snape was done. But no, Snape continued. "10 more points from Gryffindor for arguing with me," he went on, Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Snape ignored him and continued. "10 more points from Gryffindor for being a pest."

Harry felt like saying "But that's not fair!" Or "you can't do that!" But before he could anything but open his mouth slightly, Snape decided to speak again.
"That's 30 points from Gryffindor so far, Potter. Shall you lose any more than you already have?" He said irritably. Harry glared at him once more. "Fine. Alright, let's get started." Harry said shortly, shoving the professor out of his way and entering the classroom.
"10 points from Gryf--" Snape started, but Harry interrupted.
"What this time!?" Harry yelled, slamming into his seat next to Snape's desk.
Snape's lip curled. "For shoving me, your professor, out of your path. You will not treat me with such disrespect, Potter." He explained through gritted teeth. Harry rolled his eyes.
"Just take away another 10 points for me breathing too, won't you?" He snapped. Snape started toward his desk, acting as if he hadn't heard Harry's comment, and starting writing on the board. A list of ingredients appeared.
"Begin." Snape commanded, and he needn't say it twice; Harry wanted very badly for the lesson to just be over with.
After two and a half hours of mere torcher, the clock finally read 12:00, which was lunch time. Inside, Harry's heart leapt. He's finally free from Snape for the day!
Snape erased the board and examined Harry's potion. His expression looked mixed with puzzlement and disappointment.
"Two and a half hours, Potter... and still, you remain dreadful at making potions." He muttered. "No, this will not do, Potter. You will stay here for lunch and continue working on your potion until perfection." Harry's face flushed. Snape was not going to keep him from eating! "But Professor, I must eat-- I- I won't be able to finish in time!" Harry argued, wearing an expression of fury. Snape cut him off. "Enough, Potter." He commanded, "you will stay here. I will send for Draco Malfoy to help you, being my top potions student. He will bring you your meal." He explained shortly. "But--" Harry started, but Snape interrupted. "If you wish to argue, Potter, I would have no problem taking 50 points from Gryffindor."

Harry glared at him. Snape turned on his heel and made his way out. Harry sat there, alone, for what felt like hours(but was certainly only about 15 minutes) trying to solve the mystery of brewing potions. How does it work? Why doesn't it work for me? He thought to himself, brewing the shiny liquid in the small cauldron. The liquid turned a yellow color. But according to the book, the potion should be red by now. Harry groaned. Why did potion brewing have to be so hard? His stomach growled at him, it felt as if the beasts that lay in the middle of his stomach threatened to tear their way out any minute. He just wanted this to be over. He sat in the dungeon, sweat dripping from his forehead. What was he doing wrong? Harry couldn't think of how he could've messed up.