Something A Little Different, Reserved for Auto and Ashly. ^^

[A_Lost_Dream]

Thin spider like fingers drummed on a cold mahogany desk, cold steel eyes going over a students essay like creeping moss, a slender eyebrow raised and soon he was scribbling a horrible grade on the piece of parchment. Somehow it seemed that the work was even worse today than it usually was.

The sound of shattering glass was heard.

"Dammit Longbottom! Can't you pretend to be competent for more than a second?" Roared the professor, raising to a standing position in a flash of movement, expensive looking robes swirling about him in a silent fury. "That's the second time in the last few minutes, thirty points from Gryffindor and a days detention with Filch. Don't do it again, or I doubt you'll be seeing your" -His eyes darted across the room at a few students- "Friends outside of class for quite awhile." Hissed the older man, muttering a cleaning spell afterwards, and with a swish of his wand, the glass was all gone from the permanently potion stained stone floor. Once again he sat, and while one hand massaged his temples, let his own thoughts wash over him. Lately, that Malfoy boy had been positively lecherous, always asking for private tutoring lessons, questioning as to whether or not his potions were correct with the wretched boy very well knew it was perfect. The Potions Master sighed inwardly, switching to a new paper on the many uses of the tail feather of a Desert Raven in Potions by Harry Potter.

It was...passable.

That irked him of course, as he grudgingly scrawled a mediocre grade on the yellowed parchment. Mr. Potter had proved to be less of a dolt than he once thought, as the year went by he made fewer mistakes and stopped chopping the ingredients incorrectly. Though he would never admit it, this was almost a...pleasant change in pace. Unexpected and yet welcomed, as a professor he liked to see his students do well, but as Severus Snape it would be a sin - and down right frightening- if he said so.

With this last lingering thought he stood once more, his robes billowing behind him as he started to stride forwards. "Times up, I better not be disappointed: for all of your sakes." The ebon haired man stalked over to Longbottom cauldron, taking a delicate sniff before sneering at him "Congratulations, you’ve managed to out due your previous blunders. I do believe this is the most pathetic concoction you've ever mixed. Well done Mr. Longbottom." Said the professor in a very quiet and obviously sarcastic voice, moving on to Mr. Potter's cauldron and stopping there. Cold black eyes staring down into the dark purple contents.

{Not exactly a brilliant post, but passable. I hope I did Sevy well enough. -.- Autttto...you're posting next. -Cackle- }

[winexandxdine]

Sure, it was a nice color, rich and royal and syrupy, but Harry wasn't too sure that the potion was supposed to be purple. Sort of assumption, there, as he'd just skimmed over the final parts of the instructions. It was safe to conclude that his thoughts were elsewhere.

"How is it, Professor?" He murmured belatedly, tilting his head back and reaching up to shove his dark-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. Dark, nearly bored green eyes rested on his long-nosed teacher's face, cautiously veiling a sort of reflexive dislike.

His grades in Potions, recently, had been passing, at least. A major improvement in some areas since last year, but he wasn't killing himself over it anymore. Just a required class-- he wanted to be an Auror. Hell, he had already faced as many or more Things That Go Bump In The Night than some of the current ones, hadn't he?

The young Seeker sighed, then, awaiting the comments over his potion (A "could be better" and an immediate list of everything he'd done wrong, Harry was sure), lifting the same hand and running it through his hair, a nervous habit he'd picked up somewhere. It kind of sucked working alone-Harry tended to do fine with the complicated things, but misread and make one, terribly obvious mistake- but then again, at least that eradicating the chance that he'd be paired up with someone like Malfoy.

It was hard not to glance in the Slytherin's direction. What he would give to just deck him in the face, sometimes.

Of course, he would have liked to deck his professor a good one, too, but sometimes all you could do was grin and bear it.

[BrokenMirrorReflection]

Draco Malfoy was looking into his cauldron with a smug, self-assured smirk. It was a deep, rich violet, tinted with royal blue. The potion was of just the right viscosity, he knew it. Of course, that wouldn’t stop him from asking Professor Snape whether or not it was satisfactory. Both he and the professor knew that much, but the young Malfoy would continue to press the matter until he got what he wanted.

He was spoiled like that.

Frosty grey eyes relocated to Crabbe’s potion—he had botched it up somehow, and the concoction was a frothing, angry neon blue. Goyle, on his right side, had done marginally better. Potions wasn’t their strong point, really. Looking big and intimidating was their forte. But it wasn’t of importance. Of course they’d get passing marks—they were Slytherins, were they not? A frustrated sigh escaped from his lips, platinum eyebrows narrowing and glaring into the back of Potter’s head. That stupid prat. Draco hadn’t forgotten the incident on the Hogwarts Express at the end of last year, and he fully planned to pay Mr. Potter back in spades.

Just not yet. He couldn’t be bothered just yet, and besides, he hadn’t thought up a Master Plan, and until he had, the hatred and sheer spite would continue to boil inside of him. He was better than Potter, and he needed no one to tell himself that. So why did he constantly find himself envying the brat?

He slouched back in his chair, apathetic and just plain bored. When was Severus going to make it to the Slytherin tables…? He spared a detached glance over towards where the professor had last been—and he was still there, with Potter!

This was cause enough for Draco’s distress, and the young Slytherin bit at his lip. What was keeping him? Surely that dolt hadn’t completely spoiled the potion, had he? No, of course he hadn’t, he couldn’t hear Snape berating him. So why was he still there? Paranoia never did anyone any good, and Draco was above it. …but damned if Snape wasn’t taking his bloody time with it!

[A_Lost_Dream]

{-Snuggles Ashley- That post was pure brilliance.

Your post was great as well Auto~ n.n }

One side of his thin lips turned upwards, not in a smile of course, but a smirk. He'd never pass up the chance to berate Potter, and he always had the excuse that it'd make him a better person someday. "Potter..." He paused here and sniffed at the potion, observing it with a keen eye. "You've added too much boiled scorpion stinger and not enough diced dried jewel beetles. I suppose it could be worse, but it could be much better." Drawled the tall professor, giving Potter a long hard look. "It'll do." With that he moved pass the rest of the Gryffindor, making sure he insulted each and every one of them on the way, of course. Finally, he paused in front of Draco's cauldron, taking a single glance as it before nodding his approval, "I'm impressed, Mr. Malfoy. your little friends" He gave Crabbe and Goyle pointed glares, "could do with some help from you." Even those two great oafs were intimidated by that gaze, because whenever Severus looked at you, it was obvious that he was insulting you, even when he didn't speak. Snape moved on, drifting through the Slytherins with very much the same attitude that he had towards the Gryffindors. "Class Dismissed." Drawled the Professor when he was finished over looking the potions, "Mr. Potter, and Mr. Malfoy, see me after class." The way he said this, one would automatically think they had killed his aunt's pet cat, but that was just Severus's way, or at least when in front of his class. He couldn't afford to be anything but horrible, after all, he prided himself on being the most hated teacher in the school.

The reason he had called the two, was for a bit of help after classes were over. Lately, Madam Pomfrey had been asking for all sorts of potions to be made, and Severus didn't have the time for such trivial, simple, potions. Mr. Malfoy was the best student in the class, seconded by Ms. Granger (But he'd be damned if he'd deal with her know-it-all attitude for any longer than he had to), and Potter had recently climbed to third.

Merlin, this could very well be the worst pairing in the history of Hogwarts.

{-Hates this post- x.x }

[winexandxdine]

Harry and Ron exchanged tired glances. Ron began to pack up-- Harry didn't bother. He was probably going to be blamed for killing Snape's aunt's pet cat or something equally as absurd. He really wouldn't put it past the Potions teacher.

He tossed a slightly wary look over his shoulder, aimed at Draco, wondering what exactly was up. It wasn't like he'd caused any major explosions lately-- no singed eyebrows and no melted cauldrons.

"We'll wait up for you in the common room, Harry," Hermione murmured as she passed, in a particularly sour mood. Her own potion had been mediocre at best, and it was hard to remember why she'd chosen to stay in there another year. Valuable skills, really, chopping up roots and boiling blood..

He hung back, balancing on the balls of his feet, waiting until he was alone in the room with possible two of his least favorite people in the world before approaching the desk.

"What was it you wanted, Professor?" It was hard to remember not to address him as 'Snape'. Hopefully this wouldn't delay him too long.. he shut his eyes and tried to mentally measure his yet-to-be-written Transfiguration essay.

[BrokenMirrorReflection]

If the professor had asked Draco and Draco alone to stay, the sixth-year would have been considerably more happy. But no. Of course not. Potter had to stay, too, and ruin it all. He felt rather miffed about it all, actually. But he didn’t show that, not in front of Potter. Standing up in front of the professor’s desk, he was careful to make sure that there was nothing wrong with his appearance—he still looked haughty and conceited, that was for sure. Didn’t pay Potter the slightest but of attention. …Snape had asked for Potter. How could he?

But Snape had asked for him, too, so that was good. But his tone of voice—Draco knew for a fact that Snape wasn't all that fond of his aunt's pet cat, and he really wouldn’t object if the creature came to a nasty fate sprinkled with gore. In fact, Draco believed that the professor would be rather pleased.

…he didn’t stalk Severus, of course not. It wasn’t stalking, it was normal. He picked up on things like that. And Father did meet rather often with Severus, so he had had time to pick up on these things. There were a lot of things you could learn from the portraits in someone else’s house. He knew a lot of little things about Severus’s family. Also knew how they were related—and they were, just barely. But that was to be expected, wasn’t it? Honestly, he didn’t much approve of this inbreeding—he didn’t want his children’s children to turn out like the late Egyptian pharaohs or anything—but he knew it was necessary. And he’d be damned to a place far worse than hell before his family ever mixed with the Weasly bloodline. It was enough to make him feel slightly nauseous. They might be related, somehow—no. No, he wouldn’t think of that.

It was… disgusting. Of course not. There wasn’t any way…

But he was getting distracted. Stupid, stupid, stupid. What if he’d missed something? A single blink of mercury eyes tuned him into the present. No, he hadn’t missed anything at all. Potter was babbling; he was okay.