“You should have ignored him,” Hermione gushed, lifting her eyes from the text book she had previously been engrossed in.

“That’s easy for you to say,” Ron snapped defensively, “Harry was only trying to stick up for you, and you still manage to have a go…”

“I’m not having a go at anyone,” Hermione’s response was short and sharp, as she snapped the book she had been reading shut, and gave Ron a burning look, “I’m merely suggesting that if Harry had ignored Snape, then he wouldn’t find himself with a whole week’s worth of detentions…”

Harry, who was sitting in his favourite armchair in the Gryffindor Common room, directly in front of the fire, made a decided effort to not meet the eyes of either Ron or Hermione. He had been in the presence of their arguments before; and he now knew it was best to keep his mouth closed.

“You’re always just suggesting…” Ron mumbled, before he turned to Harry, “I don’t blame you…Snape was out of the order, the whole class heard what he was going to say…I know I would have hexed him given half the chance.”

Harry said nothing, but inside he smiled. There was no way on this earth that Ron would ever do that.

“Don’t be such an idiot Ron!” Hermione’s voice was impatient and Harry rolled his eyes. “What Harry’s done is very serious. Threatening a teacher, even Snape, is something that deserves…”

“Are you saying that Harry deserves a week’s worth of detentions with that slippery git?”

“Enough!” Harry’s voice silenced the argument; Ron folded his arms dramatically across his chest, while Hermione suddenly found the pattern on the carpet beneath her feet infinitely interesting. “Hermione is right Ron…” Harry began, as Ron’s mouth fell open in disbelief, “I should never have pulled my wand on Snape.”

“But he provoked you Harry…he was just waiting for an excuse to give you detention…” Even Hermione nodded in agreement as Ron continued, “The Gryffindor’s there would all vouch for you…we could go to McGonagall…explain to her…”

Harry shook his head slowly. “There wouldn’t be any proof…the Slytherins would side with Snape…I’ll just have to do it won’t I?”

Ron shrugged, defeated. Hermione, on the other hand, flashed one of her characteristically confident smiles and said, “Me and Ron will wait up for you. It will give us a chance to get started on our Transfiguration essays.”

“But we only got set them today,” Ron whined, shooting Harry a desperate glance that seemed to suggest he would rather be having the detention himself. Hermione tossed her head and said, “We’re N.E.W.T students now Ron. We can’t afford to fall behind…”

“When have you ever fallen behind?” Hermione rolled her eyes and once again opened her book.

Harry stood outside the door, letting his bag slide heavily from his shoulder and land with a thump on the floor. He looked at his watch; 8 o’clock, he wasn’t too early. Yet he had knocked at least four times now and had been met with nothing but silence. Maybe Snape had forgotten, Harry thought hopefully, maybe he’s given out so many detentions today that he’s forgotten that he gave me one too?

Fat chance. The idea that Snape would have forgotten him was almost too ridiculous for words. He had probably been looking forward to it all day; another opportunity to make snide comments, whilst he would have to perform some boring and monotonous task on Snape’s behalf…no…he wouldn’t have forgotten.

Maybe he was ill…or maybe he was dead? Harry grimly suppressed a smile as he envisioned Snape slumped over his desk, his black, greasy hair falling across his face, as the headline of the Daily Prophet read, “Death Eater found Dead at Hogwarts.”

Harry looked at his watch again; 8.15. That’s it Harry thought, I’m leaving. It was most likely Snape was attempting to humiliate him; ignoring his knocking as long as possible so he could accuse him of being late and deduct more points from Gryffindor. Harry picked up his bag and, turning round, walked straight into Snape who had approached almost silently from behind.

“Watch where you’re going Potter,” Snape said, dusting down his robes swiftly as if to rid himself of any traces of him. Harry noticed that he was trembling, fumbling with his keys as he opened the door to the classroom. Snape swept swiftly in and, with a flick of his wand, ignited the torches that lined the murky dungeon, sending flickering shadows across the wall. Harry hesitated in the doorway, watching as Snape sat down at the desk and, as if he had forgotten that Harry was there, muttered something under his breath impatiently, and buried his head in his hands.

Harry took a step forward and immediately Snape looked up, his eyes black and flashing with something that Harry had never seen in them before.

“Enlighten me; are you planning to hang around in my doorway all evening?” Harry said nothing, stepping inside the classroom, and closing the door behind him. Placing his bag down on one of the desks, Harry did not sit as he continued to watch Snape sitting at his desk. He seemed to have clamed himself now; his eyes had lost the…dare Harry think it…the sadness they possessed earlier; his body had regained its familiar rigidity.

“Find something interesting in my appearance?” Snape snapped, his eyebrows knitting together, his face as dark as a thundercloud. At once, Harry’s head was full of witty come backs…a million insults that Sirius himself would have been proud of. Suddenly, the smirk that had spread across Harry’s face died away as thoughts of Sirius filled his head. He did not want to think about his Godfather now; not in this room, not with this man.

“No sir,” Harry managed coolly. Snape suddenly stood up and, after picking up a cardboard box, he placed it down on the desk in front of Harry; bottles tinkling within.

“There are a hundred bottles here that need to be washed and scrubbed clean of their old labels…” The tips of Harry’s fingers already burnt with the prospect of peeling back so many labels. “The Muggle way…of course…”

Snape’s lips formed a cruel smile which Harry returned with interest.

“Of course…professor.”

For about the millionth time that evening, Harry checked his watch. 9.40…only twenty minutes to go and Harry would be free from detention. Looking down at his hands, which had spent most of the time submerged under the now freezing cold water, were pink and wrinkled from scrubbing the bottles clean. Black, sticky stuff had lodged itself under his finger nails where he had peeled back label after label; all the time doing so in absolute silence.

Harry raised his eyes to where Snape was seated behind his desk, glowering down at a number of parchments that were spread in front of him, each bearing a more abysmal grade than the last. Snape hadn’t said a word to him since he had told him what it was he had to do. Instead, he had sat behind his desk, tuting softly down at the essays he had been marking, yet smiling every time he was able to write a discouraging comment or two across them.

So this was it, Harry thought to himself, this was Severus Snape’s existence? Down in the dark depths of the dungeons, all alone, gaining pleasure from thwarting the ambitions of many a Hogwart’s student. My god, this man is pathetic Harry thought, eyeing the way he wrote another looping “0” at the end of an essay. As if he had heard Harry’s thoughts Snape looked up from the parchment from under his greasy hair.

“Is there something you would like to say Potter?” he hissed.

Harry’s eyes darkened as he poured water out of the very last bottle, placing it next to the others with the words, “Just that I’ve finished.”

Snape left his desk, quill still hovering in the air above the parchment, and walked over to inspect Harry’s work. Harry suppressed a grin; the years of washing up for the Dursleys had evidently paid off, and even Snape could not ignore the way the bottles glinted in the dimly lit chamber.

“Very well Potter,” Snape said quietly, flicking his wand in the direction of the box so that the bottles packed inside neatly, before skimming across the desks to rest against the wall.

Harry stood up, relieved that his detention was finally over, as he grabbed his bag from the floor. But Snape seemed to look at him like he was insane; his head cocked to one side, his hands resting languorously on his hips.

“Just where do you think you’re going?” Snape asked.

Harry opened his mouth to answer but, thinking better of it; he glanced down at his watch. There was still ten minutes to go. Snape was just the kind of teacher to make a student stay the full two hours, regardless of whether the punishment was complete or not. Without saying a word, Harry sat back down, glaring at Snape who stood motionless, his eyes still fixed on Harry.

“I find it fascinating that after that little stunt you pulled in class this morning, you expect to be relinquished from your punishment early….” Snape shook his head slowly. “You seem to think that a two hour detention should be different for you, than for everyone else.”

“I didn’t see the time,” Harry replied through gritted teeth, attempting to ignore the way that Snape seemed to be mocking him with his eyes.

“And of course, it wouldn’t even cross your mind to wait to be dismissed.” Harry’s jaw seemed locked in place, not allowing him to snap back in the way he wanted to. Sensing the restraint he was employing Snape leant back against the desk opposite where Harry was sat, and folded his arms across his chest.

“This is not like you Potter…what has happened to your characteristic arrogance?”

“A characteristic you accuse me of…” It happened; the words had burst past his lips before he had time to think what he was doing. Snape’s lips curled satisfactorily at the corners.

“Ah yes…” he hissed softly, quietly, his eyes burning down into Harry’s, “There it is…that certain Potter charm…”

“And let me guess…” Harry’s tongue seemed to now be forming the words his brain was warning him not to speak, “just like my father?”

Snape’s eyes sparkled darkly with amusement as if he was on the verge of a sneer.

“You have finally come to accept the man your father really was I see?”

“If you mean the boy you remember than yes.”

Snape grimaced at Harry’s words. He knew only too well that Snape would not have forgotten what Harry had seen when he used the Pensieve to see into Snape’s past. He had been furious, shaking with rage as he commanded Harry to get out of the room at once. It was then that his Occulemency lessons from Snape had come to an end.

“Be under no illusions,” Snape began, his voice dark and dangerous as he took a step closer to where Harry was seated, “Your father was not the man you imagine him to be. He wasn’t the man that Dumbledore respects, or the man so fondly remembered by Remus…” Harry felt as if his skin was on fire as he remained focused on the look of loathing in Snape’s eyes. He took another step towards Harry, his face twisted and pale as he continued to articulate, “James Potter was a cruel, self obsessed bully who cared nothing for the feelings of anyone but himself.”

Harry was on his feet in a moment, quaking with anger, fists clenched tightly by his sides. His heart was pounding as his blood screamed hit him, hit him, hit him!

“My father was none of those things,” Harry’s voice was hot and wavering.

“But you never knew him did you?” Snape continued; his voice cold and rigid; only his eyes betrayed the fury that was bubbling within. “You wish to believe that your father was a man to be proud of, a man to aspire to be…and I can’t say I blame you…” Snape paused, his voice was low and full of hatred as he ended, “If I had had a father like him, I would probably do the same.”

Harry’s face was scarlet. Everything seemed to merge as he remained fixed on Snape’s face; his smirking, cold, contemptuous face. His mind was throbbing as he fought the desire to reach out and take Snape’s throat in his hand, and squeeze the smile from him. Yet suddenly the burning hatred Harry was feeling was replaced with something else, his heart pounding in his ears as his eyes stung dangerously close to tears. If Snape had been anyone else his face would have softened when he had seen those green eyes grow glossy; yet he did nothing but smile triumphantly as Harry forced a sob back down his throat. He would not let Snape upset him; he refused to let Snape see him cry.

“You know nothing about my father,” Harry managed to say, his voice full of the threat of tears before he grabbed his bag from the desk, and stormed out of the room.