'Kay, this is my first attempt at a Harry Potter fanfic, written specially for youroctober's fanfic challenge 3. Do drop reviews and help me improve. It'll be greatly appreciated.

Enjoy! :D

"Well, well, well, Potter, I do believe that's the third flask you've broken today," the potions professor commented coldly, lips curled upwards in a slight sneer as the Slytherins sniggered away in the background, watching the bespectacled wizard make his feeble attempt at clearing up his mess.

"And this clumsiness helped you escape Voldemort?" Draco taunted as he sauntered past Harry, whose eyes were now burning with rage as he stared back, an idea forming in his mind.

In a split second, Malfoy was face flat on the floor, shards of broken glass lining the ground messily as the contents of his flask streamed out, stinging its maker, who by now was screaming in agony as large purple boils began to break out on his body.

A leg was withdrawn almost as quickly as it had shot out to trip the boy, and a smug smile planted itself on its owner's face; listening to the uproar of laughter from the other students was music to his ears.

"Nice move, Potter. I suppose that's how Griffindor plans to win the Quidditch Cup this year, by sabotaging players from other teams. Not too courageous, is it now, boy?" the same cold voice mocked, waving a wand and clearing up the mess, before turning to the Slytherin withering on the dungeon floor. "Hospital Wing, now. Crabbe, you go with him."

The laughter from all the other students, save the Slytherins, died out the moment Snape whirled around, and silence once again adorned the classroom.

"You boy, think it's so funny, eh?" he hissed, voice filled with nothing but pure contempt. "That'll be thirty points off Griffindor for your little prank there, and detention too. Let's see now, I do believe this Sunday would be a nice time for detention, wouldn't it?"

"But-"

"No complaints? Then it's settled. You will come to my office at nine in the morning, sharp."

As Harry was about to protest, Snape cut him off again, rather rudely, taking great care to emphasise certain words. "I don't care if you have Qudditch training that morning, nor do I care if you're captain of the team. As far as I'm concerned, Griffindor has no need for an irresponsible captain that regularly collects detention like how one would collect chocolate frog cards."

Another round of laughter ensued, this time from the Slytherins, and Snape glared at the class.

"If any one wishes to join Potter in detention this Sunday, you're free to remain here. Otherwise, get out!"

A mad scramble followed thereafter, with students rushing to exit the room.

"Detention, can you believe that?" Harry ranted, fuming as he stormed through the corridors with Hermione and Ron in tow, sending all who crossed his path scurrying away in fright.

"Relax Harry, this isn't the first time he's done something like this," Hermione started, deeply absorbed in a book and she trailed behind him.

"He's purposely scheduling my detentions on training days! I mean, of all days, why Sunday? He's just using whatever means possible to let Slytherin win the Cup! That's just despicable!"

"Well, Slytherins are supposed to be shrewd and cunning, you know," she added, helpfully, rather oblivious to what was going on.

"Thanks, Hermione, you've been a great help," came the retort, sarcasm aplenty.

"Well, no use complaining, is there? Just go to the bloody detention and get over with it," Ron said, being surprisingly sensible for once.

"Wow, Ron, you actually said something that made sense," the witch muttered, faintly amused.

He stopped and looked upwards smugly. "There's always a first time for everythi-wait! You're saying that I'm usually not sensible?"

-Sunday-

The week passed without much mishap, the exception being the Slytherins' every attempt to harm the Griffindor team players, who were mostly furious at their captain having another detention under his belt.

He could still hear their voices swirling in his head as he gloomily made his way to Snape's office, guilt weighing him down.

"Sna-Professor Snape?" the young wizard called out cautiously, pushing the office door open after having got tired of knocking.

He let himself in and took a good look around. Nothing had changed much since the last time he had here. The room was as dark as ever, the dim lights adding on to the atmospheric eeriness of the dungeon room. The place was a complete mess: cobwebs lined the corners of the cupboards and papers were askew all over the desk.

He really should consider hiring an interior designer, Harry thought to himself, chuckling at his own little joke while he continued his survey.

"Unfortunately, some of us don't quite agree," a familiar piercing voice rang out, snapping him out of his daze.

Turning around, Harry found himself face to face with the Slytherin head, who did not seem at all amused at the information he had just obtained.

"But how did he-"

"Close your mind, Potter," he answered, with a smirk, heading towards a particularly dusty cabinet in a corner of the office, "Or else the Occlumency Lessons we had would have all gone to waste. But then again, I suppose they were all for naught after all, you little ingrate."

Biting his tongue, Harry resisted the urge to retort and instead questioned, "So then, Sir," he spat, distaste lining his words, "What's my detention today?"

"Ah yes, I was hoping you'd ask. It makes things far more interesting," was the mysterious answer, almost as if Snape was teasing him. Somehow, his tone made him shiver, but it felt surprisingly good. "Seeing as that you'd probably fail to make it far in life, it'd do you plenty good to brush up on your housekeeping skills. Take it as good preparation for your future. No need to thank me, your work is thanks enough. When I return, however, I expect the paperwork on my desk to be filed properly in this cabinet. "

With that, the professor spun on his heel and exited the office, cape swirling behind him, leaving the young wizard alone.

Muttering profanities under his breath, Harry sifted through the papers; he had pretty much expected that Snape would never get down to doing his own paperwork. Not even bothering to sort them accordingly, he stuffed the documents nonchalantly into random folders, making sure to provide Snape with great frustration should he decide to check.

Done with his task, Harry eyes began to scan the shelves out of sheer boredom. Books and potion bottles lined them in messy orderliness, increasing the unkempt feel of the room. The dim, green lights shone through the dirty, translucent bottles, staining everything that the rays shone on in a deep, murky green.

With nothing worth noting at first glance, he began his tour of the office, closely examining anything that seemed to catch his attention. His hand trailed mindlessly along a ledge as he ambled on, accidentally knocking a few books down.

He quickly knelt down to clear up the clutter, knowing full well that it would definitely spark off anger in the potions professor should he discover what had happened. Gathering up the fallen spell books, he cautiously replaced them on the shelf, not before noticing the black notebook that had been hidden behind them. It seemed somewhat out of place, for it seemed that Snape had taken extreme care to conceal it.

Dusting it off with his sleeve, Harry curiously flipped it open to a random page, as Snape's voice began to ring out, enveloping him in a kaleidoscope of colours, matching the emotions of the text.

"Today, I gave him detention, but I had no choice! I can't risk revealing what's going on in my heart by showing him some extra kindness!

"As I watched him leave, cursing me with all his heart, my own heart tore; I hate making him miserable, hate making him give up his passion, Quidditch, just so he can spend time with me in detention! I am selfish, I admit, but alas, I cannot help it. Each moment he spends with me in detention is like a minute for me in heaven. And those eyes! Oh, how they remind me of her!

"Sadly, every time he reports to my office for detention, it's as if a knife slashes at my soul, seeing how grudgingly he accedes to my requests.

"And yet, his stubbornness makes him all the more attractive to me-"

"Heard enough?" the voice snarled, this time lacking the warmth and passion it had held earlier as a hand jerked his collar backwards, pulling him out of the cloud of emotions.

"Profe-"

He felt himself being pushed roughly towards the door, staggering as he struggled to steady himself. Turning back, he started to examine the professor for the first time. He wondered why he did, however, and it shocked him to realize that he had stiffened considerably upon gazing at the older man. Why hadn't he noticed before? His hair was shiny, a far cry from what they had described as greasy, and his body was muscular, chest and arm muscles showing out from under his dark clothing.

"What are you looking at? You aren't some decorative statue frozen in an open-mouthed position on display in my office, and even if you were, I wouldn't pick you."

"I'm looking at you, Sir," this time, no malice was meant, and his voice was clear with sincerity.

"Now get out before I give you dete- What? You're looking at me?" replied Snape, uncertain for once, as their eyes bore into each others', black into green, and green into black.

Harry felt himself stiffen further and glancing downwards from his face, saw that the potions master was reciprocating.

The two edged closer and closer, until they were more than near enough to begin what was on both their minds.

--

Later, as they lay on the ground, clothes resting in a pile somewhere in the room, Harry commented, teasingly, "You fell for my mother, and now, me. Gosh, you're such a player."

"Let's just say I find those green eyes very appealing…"