Chapter Text
Harry was running full pelt down the dungeon corridor as he desperately attempted to make it down to the Potions classroom before the lesson began. Trust Hagrid not to understand the importance of Harry not being late to his next class. He'd only popped in to see him for a quick chat between lessons but had ended up being unable to deny Hagrid's offer of his infamous rock cakes as he'd insisted Harry had to try them since he'd improved on his previous teeth cracking recipe.
He was seriously regretting accepting now as he was undoubtedly going to be late for his first potions lesson of the year, plus he now had to figure out a time to pop in and see Madam Pomfrey for a suspected cracked tooth. Clearly Hagrid's recipe still needed further improvement.
As Harry rounded the final corner leading to the Potions classroom he could see the door was firmly closed, indicating that Snape was already inside and had started the lesson.
"Shit," Harry swore under his breath as he approached the door, already envisioning how badly Snape was about to yell at him. He took a second to catch his breath before pushing the door open and slipping inside.
Inside, students were up out of their seats collecting ingredients from the store cupboard and Snape had his back to the door as he dramatically flourished his wand, generating the final instructions on the blackboard. Harry attempted to blend in with everyone else but he should have known Snape would undoubtedly have heard the door open.
"You are late, Mr. Potter," Snape snapped as he whirled around to glare at Harry.
"Sorry, sir. I was-"
"I didn't ask for your excuses, Potter. Detention tonight, seven o'clock."
"But Professor, I have quidditch prac-"
"Nor did I ask for your extra curricular schedule, Mr. Potter."
"But-," Harry stuttered.
"By all means continue to argue with me and you'll soon find yourself unable to attend your precious quidditch practices for the remainder of the month."
At that Harry snapped his mouth shut and grudgingly nodded his head.
"Seven o'clock," Snape reiterated. "Do not be late."
Again Harry simply nodded, not trusting himself to speak and he made his way over to his desk next to Ron to dump his bag so he could help collect the ingredients Snape had finished writing on the board which outlined a basic sleeping draught.
"Rotten luck," Ron whispered to him as he dropped their lavender springs and single flobberworm onto the desk with the rest of the ingredients he'd already grabbed. "Can you just grab the Asphodel petals, that's the last one we need, mate."
"Sure," Harry whispered back and quickly made his way to the store cupboard to grab the petals. When he returned, Ron was already preparing various ingredients and Harry couldn't be bothered to correct him when he noticed he was chopping the wormwood rather than crushing it.
Despite Ron's inspired interpretation of certain instructions, by the end of class they had a potion which, while it didn't appear as deeply purple as Hermione's, definitely had purple hue, and was most certainly more successful than Neville and Lavender's potion, which was a sickly shade of green and had begun smoking ominously.
Snape circled the classroom, glancing in cauldrons before coming to a stop over Neville and Lavender's potion, making a point to vanish it citing it a health hazard to anyone who happened to be in its vicinity, let alone should anyone have the misfortune to consume it. He spitefully announced their zero loudly so everyone could hear, at which point Neville looked terrified and Lavender as if she were about to burst into tears.
Snape was unmoved and announced their homework before dismissing the class. As everyone filed out Harry absentmindedly followed a few steps behind Ron and Hermione.
As they took their seats in Transfiguration, Ron was positively bouncing with how pleased he was with how their potion had gone.
"Really, mate if you hadn't gotten detention for being late I would say that was our least eventful potions class with the greasy git. Our potion turned out great!"
"Really Ron, you were supposed to crush the wormwood and keep the potion on a low heat while you stirred. I'm sure your potion would barely have forced Scabbers to take a nap let alone put an adult to sleep," Hermione said irritably.
"How the hell do you even notice stuff like 'Mione! Surely you were focused on your own potion," Ron exclaimed.
Harry found himself tuning out the bickering of his two best friends, he was used to it and besides he was a little more focused on how he was going to break the news to Oliver that he'd be unable to make their first training session of the year.
"It's basic observational skills, Ronald," Hermione muttered as Professor McGonagall entered the classroom briskly, putting a stop to their dispute as she demanded the attention of the students so she could begin.
***
Harry rapped his fist on the door to the Potions classroom three minutes early. He knew full well that his draconian Potions Master would decide that if Harry were to arrive a second later than the set time for his detention he would earn further punishment. “Enter,” came Snape’s distinct drawl almost immediately, and Harry took a deep breath to calm himself before he reluctantly pushed open the heavy oak door.
“Well, Potter,” Snape began as Harry stepped into the classroom, “it seems you do possess the ability to arrive somewhere on time when properly motivated. Perhaps you were hoping to make it to Gryffindor's Quidditch practice that I am aware is occurring later this evening." Harry could hear the challenge in his Professor’s voice and decided not to respond.
Snape did not seem to expect a reply, however, barely looking up from rifling through a stack of parchment on his desk as he gestured impatiently for Harry to approach and take a seat at the desk directly in front of him. Harry walked to the front of the classroom and sat down, placing his bag on the floor beside him, dreading whatever gruesome task he was sure to be set for the evening.
“Do you know why you’re here this evening, Potter?” Snape intoned in a bored voice, still intently focused on whatever was in front of him. Harry sighed and that finally seemed to get Snape’s attention.
His head snapped up, an ominous expression on his face. “Well?” he barked.
“Because you asked me to be here, Professor,” Harry countered.
Snape’s expression darkened and Harry gulped. He should just have said yes and allowed Snape to dole out his punishment so he could get on with it; the sooner he started the sooner he could leave and maybe make it to at least the end of practice. Why did he always have to challenge Snape, for god's sake. Why did he never learn?
“You think I have nothing better to do with my evening than spend it in the company of recalcitrant teenagers, Potter? Get up!” Harry jumped to his feet, seemingly without conscious thought, merely reacting to the demanding tone of Snape’s command. Snape was standing too now, the parchment on his desk forgotten as he stalked around his desk to stand face to face with Harry, now with only the table that Harry had been sitting at moments before between them.
“I’ve had enough of your attitude, Potter. Time after time you refuse to show me the proper respect awarded a member of staff at this institution.” Snape suddenly was no longer shouting, his voice was barely above a whisper, and Harry decided that that felt even more threatening. “Professor Dumbledore might find it appropriate to overlook the misdeeds of his Golden Boy, but I disagree. You’ve been shown far too much leniency for your unruly behaviour and flippant attitude ever since you set foot in this school. And I won’t allow it. Any. Longer.”
Snape punctuated each word by jerking closer to Harry’s face, his long black hair swaying with every movement. They were inches away from each other with Harry rooted to the spot, barely breathing. That was until Snape raised his hand to tuck the hair back out of his face. At this, Harry flinched violently and suddenly came to life, bolting for the door and was gone before Snape had even straightened back up.
Severus just stared. What in Merlin's name had just happened? Did the boy really think he could get out of his detention so easily?
The infuriating Gryffindor bravado the boy typically exhibited seemed to have abandoned him. He had no doubt he had often yelled at the boy in the same way and never elicited that type of flighty response. He returned to his desk and sat down heavily, thoroughly confused. Severus was both intrigued and annoyed. The latter due to the fact he was intrigued at all. But there was a niggle in the back of his mind. A certain look on the Golden Boy's face that he couldn't ignore.
Yes, the boy had looked scared. But it wasn't the recognisable scared look he saw on the face of every student that he yelled at; that look he was overly familiar with. No. Potter had looked positively terrified. Unwilling to decipher what any of that meant without a stiff drink in his hand, he stood. He glanced at the pile of marking on his desk, before ultimately deciding to abandon it for the night, sweeping out of his classroom and extinguishing the lights with a flick of his wand as he went.
He stalked a few steps deeper into the dungeons and came to a halt in front of a portrait of the founder of his house. Salazar sat on an ornate throne fiddling idly with a snake, letting it slither between his fingers. "Good day, Severus?" he asked in a lively tone, obviously aware it had been anything but by the look on his face. Severus merely grunted, he much preferred it when Salazar was residing in any other of his portraits around the castle and it was only the snake present. He didn't have to put up with inane questions then. He simply tapped the side of the frame twice with his wand and the portrait swung open and he stepped through.
***
Harry found himself sprinting through the passageways of the dungeons for the second time that day, although this time he was getting out. His footsteps echoed all around him as he attempted to put as much distance between himself and Snape as quickly as possible.
It wasn't until he leapt up the final staircase out of the dungeons and reached the entry hall that he finally let himself stop. A stitch was burning in his side as he doubled forward leaning his hands heavily on his knees and panting hard. He took a few deep breaths before straightening up and continuing at a more measured pace up towards Gryffindor tower.
As Harry stepped through the portrait hole, he glanced around the common room and spotted Hermione and Ron sat on the overstuffed sofa in front of the fire where they'd been when he left. He made a beeline for them and Hermione quickly noticed him as made his way closer.
"That was quick," she began suspiciously.
"Oh yeah.. well he had something else to do this evening, so he couldn't keep me that long," Harry invented.
"Harry, you've been gone twenty minutes, it basically takes that long just to walk there and back, so he didn't really keep you at all. Why did he not just do it another night or assign you to Filch or something?"
"I don't know Hermione, I didn't question it, can you just drop it please."
"Hm," was her only response allowing Ron to cut in "well are you going to go to quidditch practice instead then, you'll make it for at least the last half of it if you hurry."
Shit. Harry had totally forgotten he'd had practice that evening before he'd landed himself in detention.
"Uhhh no. I already told Oliver I couldn't make it and he yelled at me for not being able to behave myself on practice nights. Don't fancy listening to another lecture if I turn up halfway through. He said they're just going to work on chaser tactics so I'd probably just be flying around on my own anyway."
Harry slumped gratefully into the armchair opposite his two best friends that had been recently vacated and leant back and closed his eyes.
"Are you okay, Harry?" asked Hermione worriedly, leaning towards him. "You're looking a little...sweaty."
"I'm fine Hermione, honestly. What are you guys up to anyway, homework?"
"Yeah," Ron answered miserably. "We're working on Binns' essay on the medieval assembly of European wizards. Want to join in, I honestly don't know how I'm going to make this to three feet even using Hermione's notes. Maybe you got something extra down?"
"Sounds fun," Harry said sarcastically. "Let me just grab my..."
Damn. Harry froze as he realised exactly where he had left his school bag which had his History of Magic notes in. In the dungeons. On the floor of the potions classroom. God, how could he have been so stupid! He'd been trying his hardest not to think about what he'd just run away from, let alone the way Snape would react the next time he saw him. He did not fancy facing that right now. Or ever, if he could help it.
"...actually, I really can't be bothered to grab my bag right now, and I doubt I caught anything that Hermione didn't anyway. I'll just work on my poem on Lockhart's defeat of the Waka Waka Werewolf, I won't need any of my notes for that anyway. Can I just borrow a bit of parchment?"
"Actually Harry, it was the Wagga Wagga Werewolf so maybe you should actually use your notes," Hermione stated primly. However with an elbow from Ron she did hand over a spare bit of parchment and quill so he could get on with it.
Harry tried his best to focus on his poem, not wanting to dwell on the fact he needed to come up with a plan to retrieve his bag before tomorrow morning's classes. However, Lockhart's creative writing homework really wasn't the most effective distraction. "God, this really is the stupidest assignment," he huffed after only ten minutes. "Can anyone think of a word that rhymes with vanquished..?"