Pride & Polyjuice (Professor Snape Story)

Chapter 8

I stood outside the dungeon’s doors. I was a few minutes early, I think, and I sure as hell didn’t want to look pathetic, crawling into detention early. I had been leaning with my back to the stone wall to avoid going in. I had also taken the time to change out of my school uniform, instead wearing a loose black sweater and dark jeans, my blonde hair was pulled up in a messy pony tail and I applied a fresh layer of makeup, taking extra time to cover the scar on the back of my neck. My robe hung limply over my arm.

                I waited a few more minutes until hopping off the wall and opening the dungeon doors. He didn’t look up from the papers on his desk, but spoke so quietly I was sure I had imagined it. I leaned against a desk in the back and waited for him to notice my presence; I was in no hurry to start serving my detention.

His eyes flickered upward and he set his quill aside, folding his hands on his desk. “Sit.” It wasn’t an offer, however I wasn’t going to give in so easily. Instead I walked up towards his desk but stopped two tables from the front and leaned against the front of one.

                “I’d rather stand.” I replied, suddenly taking an interest in my nails.  Annoyance crossed his features but he quickly cleared his face.

“Just because your father is an acquaintance does not give you the right to be disrespectful to me in my own classroom. I. Said. Sit.” His voice had razors in it. “It sure seems to give my brother the right.” I said haughtily, crossing my arms. If looks could kill I would already be six feet under.

                I crossed the remaining distance between us and sat in the chair across from his desk. But only because my legs were tired, I tried to convince myself. He smirked at my obedience. I mentally stuck my tongue out.

“Tonight you will be cleaning cauldrons. The first years had quite a nasty time today.” From the sound of his voice it sounded like he was fond at the memory. “but first you will finish grading these papers.” He said, his tone returning to normal. My frown deepened. I couldn’t find a word strong enough to show my detest for paperwork.

                I didn’t respond but angrily grabbed a paper on top of the stack.

I set my quill aside and rubbed my wrist gingerly. “Why do you specifically hate me?” I asked, finally breaking the silence.

                “Don’t flatter yourself, I have no opinion of you.”

                “Surely you must, the only other person you treat as badly is Potter.” I replied instantly. His eyes flickered up to me before returning to his paper. 

                “You still have cauldrons to clean.”

“Real mature.” I remarked under my breath, half hoping he heard it, half afraid he did.

                He irritably set his quill down and folded his hands; if he unlaced his fingers he would choke me to death. “You really are an insolent child.” He said suddenly glaring down at me. I was slumped in my chair as usual while he was sitting with his back not touching his chair.

I shrugged indifferently “I’ve heard people say that.” 

                His eyes seemed to burn with something, I assumed anger. I continued , “I mean, you always give me detention, you always fail me on assignments-”

                “Has it ever crossed your mind that it was your behavior that led to such things? You receive detention for acting out in class, you are failed because you do not submit any decent work.” I opened my mouth to speak but no words formed.