Harry scowled and grumbled angrily as he traveled down the corridor to the dungeons. "Blasted, bloody, greasy git," he growled, not really knowing why he was talking to himself.
He was, of course, going to yet another after-dinner detention with Snape; and he was not at all happy about it.
'I wonder what he's gonna make me do this time,' Harry wondered morbidly, 'Scrub cauldrons, organize ingredients, write that I'm an idiot one thousand times?' Harry grimaced and stomped his way down into the dungeons. Stopping for a moment, he hesitated, realizing that he didn't need to alert the Slytherins of his arrival. Malfoy would have a heyday at the fact that he had another detention. Continuing, more quietly this time, he walked slowly towards Snape's office, only to start silently jogging and mentally cursing when he realized he was two minutes late.
He stopped at Snape's door and regained his composure. He may have been late, but he wasn't going to storm in all out of breath and panting. He didn't need to give Snape more things to make fun of him about.
Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
The classroom was as cold and gloomy as ever; the torch lights flickering along the stone walls in a dance of light and shadow. The same disgusting jars lined the shelves along the walls and the same greasy, cold, gloomy Potion's Professor sat at the desk at the front of the room, glaring at Harry and sneering a sneer that could kill small Hufflepuffs.
"So nice of you to join me, Potter," Snape said smoothly, the firelight flashing across his face.
"Sorry I'm late Professor," Harry said, trying desperately to keep his temper in check.
"Yes, well, you seem to make it a habit," Snape hissed, "If you're truly so sorry about it, you wouldn't continuously keep on doing, would you, Mister Potter? Then again, you wouldn't be getting detentions in the first place; but as an insufferable Gryffindor, I guess you can't help it."
Harry glared, but said nothing. It was the same every day. Snape tortures him, gives him detention, insults him, tortures him some more, insults him one more time for good measure, is nasty while in detention, is nasty while giving orders in detention, and is nasty while Harry leaves after him giving orders in detention. Then the vicious cycle repeats itself the next day.
When he got no response from Harry, Snape rose and picked up a few papers. "We will be doing something a bit different today, Potter," he stated, walking out from behind his desk to a door to the right of the classroom, "This door," he gestured to it to convey his meaning, "Is the door to my personal chambers." Harry's eyebrows rose. "And we will be working from in there. Now," His glare turned hard as he narrowed his eyes at Harry suspiciously, "I don't trust you in the least, but I hope that I can at least expect for you not to breathe a word about what we do, or what you see in my chambers. I do not wish to take you in to the only place that hasn't yet been marred by your golden hands, but I have no choice, as the numerous items we need reside in the room and are quite impossible to bring in here." He paused, breathing in before continuing. "Can I possibly hope to fathom that you might once show me the respect I deserve and keep your tongue in check while around your annoying little friends?"
Harry scowled, but nodded.
"I need a verbal agreement from you, Mister Potter," Snape drawled.
"Fine. I won't tell my friends. Unless you try to chop me up for potions ingredients, then I might have to tell them, you know?" Harry's sarcasm was dripping, but his face was angry.
Snape chuckled mirthlessly and his expression grew cold. "Yes, well. Many people seem to think that's what I do to you down here. However, you know that is not the case, so I'm afraid I will have to take ten points from Gryffindor because of your cheek."
