By now Harry knew when it was going to begin; everything that was bitter and hurtful that was exchanged between them followed a predictable pattern that made Harry’s chest tighten as he clenched his fists out of sight under the desk. It had always been this way; since Harry’s first day at Hogwarts he had known that the hatred he felt could only swell and grow to unfathomable proportions. He couldn’t even remember a single lesson when there hadn’t been a confrontation; every week it was the same. Harry would do something wrong, often minor to the taunting of Malfoy or the catastrophes of Neville; yet these could always be overlooked…it was only Harry who would attract the particular attention of the potions master.

As usual, things were not progressing well. Harry looked up at Ron who was starring helplessly down into his cauldron, and then mouthing something which distinctly looked like something Mrs Weasley would have been shocked to have heard. Harry grinned, yet was immediately distracted by a large bang to his right. Neville peered tentatively from over the top of his cauldron, his face covered in a thin film of blue slime.

“Mr Longbottom,” a cold voice from the front of the classroom caused Harry to close his eyes and bite down on his tongue hard, “If you could please refrain from destroying yet another cauldron with your completely avoidable accidents.”

Harry opened his eyes and stared at the potions master as he leaned over and peered into Pansy Parkinson’s cauldron, congratulating her on the exemplary consistency of her potion, and awarding ten points to Slytherin. If there was anyone on this earth that Harry hated more than Severus Snape, he was yet to meet them. Of course, there was Voldermort Harry thought. That was different. Voldermort never left him uncertain on whose side he was on. Harry knew that Voldermort hated him, feared him, longed to rid him of this world forever; but with Snape, Harry could never be sure. As if he had heard him thinking, Snape’s head flicked round as he eyed Harry with suspicion. Harry glared back.

“Pssst!” Harry heard Hermoine hiss across to him. Harry’s eyes were drawn from Snape’s as Hermoine pointed down at Harry’s cauldron. “You were supposed to stir it counter clockwise.”

“Oh,” Harry muttered dejected, gazing down at the potion which, instead of smouldering a deep red, had congealed into a thick green.

“Well, well Potter, I might have known that you would have managed to, once again, prove yourself incapable of following even the most basic of instructions.” Snape threw a brief smirk at the table of Slytherins before snapping, “Ten points from Gryffindor!”

Neville sighed, Ron’s face contorted into his familiar look of hurt injustice, Hermione’s eyes remained fixed on her cauldron in front of her. For a brief moment Harry debated answering back; telling Snape exactly what he could do with his instructions, but with a great amount of self control he suppressed the angry bubble that threatened to rise in his throat. He refused to give Snape the provocation to deduct more points from Gryffindor.

Harry raised his eyes to meet Snape’s black, empty stare. The potion master had laid his palms flat on Harry’s desk and was leaning close into him. Why wouldn’t he just piss off…go and torment someone else for a change? Why did it always have to be him?

“You know Potter,” Snape’s voice had adopted that dangerously taunting tone he had used so many times before to lure Harry into yet another detention, “If you spent more time concentrating on your potion rather than talking to Miss Granger here, then maybe, once in a while, you would get one right.”

For a moment, Harry said nothing but, after a few moments of silence, to Snape’s horror he said, “Sorry professor.”

Snape’s face contorted with displeasure before he turned his back on Harry quickly, his black robes swishing as he turned. Yet suddenly he thought better and, turning to face Harry once more, his lips curled into an unpleasant smile.

“I do not think it is at all appropriate for you and Miss Granger to conduct your personal affairs in my lesson Potter.”

Sneers from the Slytherins made Harry look over at Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle who were kissing the air repulsively.

“She was only trying to tell me…”

Before he could finish, Snape had interrupted, “It is of no interest to me what you and Miss Granger choose to talk about in private, but while you are in my lesson, you will refrain from idle chit chat and sweet nothings.”

“Sweet nothings,” Ron scoffed, unable to remain silent any longer, Quickly, Snape’s eyes were upon him as he continued, “You don’t really think…I mean you can’t really assume…”

“Another ten points from Gryffindor!” Snape snapped savagely, his eyes once again turning to Harry, whose cheeks had begun to burn with that familiar, irrepressible rage. He felt his eyes lock fast onto Snape’s triumphant face, silently daring him to take another ten points.

“If you really don’t want people to believe what they write about you in the Daily Prophet, then maybe you should not relish in exposure so much.”

Harry heard the Slytherians snigger as Snape continued to taunt, “Oh yes Potter, even you are not guiltless of the crime of vanity. It is clearly visible in every Quidditch victory, in every smart remark you make, expecting yourself to go unpunished. I see it in you when others cannot…” Something sinister was concealed behind his words and Harry knew that Snape was talking about the Occulemency lessons he had given Harry last year, and of the memories of Harry’s he had invaded. “It is your supreme arrogance which makes you positively incompetent of following anyone else’s orders but your own.”

“But Professor, I was only telling Harry that…”

“Do you recall asking me for your opinion, Miss Granger?” Hermione sat back in her chair, her eyes avoiding Snape’s. “Another ten points from Gryffindor.” The Slytherins seemed to be on the verge of a cheer as he continued, glancing around rather manically at the Gryffindors, “And unless you would like to make it fifty, I suggest that no-one else speaks for the rest of the lesson, am I understood?”

For a moment Harry said nothing, watching Snape’s eyes dance with glee as he wrote down yet another “0” next to Neville’s name. But he had listened enough; he had held his tongue and both Hermione and Ron had tried to defend him instead.

“She was only trying to help me,” Harry snapped at Snape, after appearing to have gone temporarily deaf, asked Harry, “Excuse me?”

“I said that Hermione was only trying to help me with my potion.”

“Should have known that Potter would stand up for his dirty little mud-blood girlfriend,” Malfoy hissed, to be met with laughter from Crabbe and Goyle. Many of the Gryffindors gasped, Harry could feel his insides burn with anger as he looked up expectantly at Snape. Even he could not ignore Malfoy’s comment.

Indeed, Snape had turned to face Malfoy yet, after thinking for a moment, he began, “Mister Malfoy I suggest that you do not insult someone in future, unless you get the insult entirely right.” His eyes flashed pure hatred at first Hemione, and then Harry as he articulated bitterly, “Mister Weasley has already informed us that Miss Granger is not Mister Potter’s girlfriend.”

Malfoy looked confused for a moment, trying to work out whether Snape had just told him off or not. Yet Harry understood…he had understood Snape perfectly and as soon as Snape had turned his back to walk triumphantly back to his desk, Harry was on his feet.

“Don’t you dare call her that!”

Snape froze, turning coolly to face Harry directly, as he continued to fume, “Don’t you dare!”

“I do not recall calling Miss Granger anything.”

Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle grinned. Hermione tried to whisper for Harry to stop, but this time it had gone far enough.

“Half the class heard what you said…half the class knows what you were suggesting…”

“The Daily Prophet was right, you truly are deranged.”

Snape turned his back on Harry, who swiftly pulled out his wand from his robes and pointed it at the back of Snape’s head. How long had he dreamt of blasting Snape into oblivion? He and Ron had discussed (at great length sometimes) what hexes they would perform on Snape if they ever got the chance.

“Apologise to her or I’ll…” But before Harry could finish his sentence, Snape had turned around, wand in his hand and with a yell of “Expelliarmus!” sent Harry’s wand flying.

“Threatening a teacher Potter, how very foolish…another thirty points from Gryffindor.” Snape paused, pocketing both his and Harry’s wand before continuing smoothly, “Until you can learn how to control yourself Potter, I shall be confiscating your wand. You may collect it from Professor McGonagall’s office at the end of the day.”

Harry sat back down, his eyes burning into the back of Snape’s head as he walked back to the front of the room. I hate him, he thought viciously, ignoring the jeers from Malfoy. I hate him.

“Oh yes…I almost forgot,” Snape turned, his black eyes fixed on Harry as he said without even a flicker of sympathy, “Detention.”