"Grammar as well, I should think," the Potions Master murmured, a frown between his eyes as he began to read. "You've a decent enough grasp of it. Just mark any awkward wordings, though if you have a question, don't hesitate to ask."
Ron, Harry noticed, was resolutely ignoring the activity around him. He hadn't even looked up when Snape had settled into the chair to his left. He just methodically kept writing, line after line after line, his face screwed up in an expression that was resentful yet stoic.
Harry started in on an essay, but the steady scratching noise of Ron's quill drew his attention across the table. Just what was Ron writing over and over? It was too far for Harry to really tell --not that he was great at reading upside down to begin with-- but whatever it was, it looked awfully long.
"Harry," Snape softly chided.
Shaking his head to clear it, Harry resumed checking spelling and grammar while Snape read for content and wrote scathing phrases about this or that student's complete incompetence in the subject. After about an hour, Harry began correcting essays Snape had already had his hands on. He tried not to read the red ink in the margins, but sometimes he couldn't help it. And when he did, he couldn't help but sigh.
"Problem?" Snape briskly inquired.
Harry bit his lip to keep from saying anything, but when Snape continued to stare at him expectantly, he murmured, "This commentary here... it's just that it's a bit harsh... don't you think? I mean.... I'm sure this student doesn't actually have mush for brains."
Instead of growing immediately furious at Harry's presumption, Snape remarked, "Read the paragraph alongside my remark, and then tell me just how intelligent you feel Mr. Higglesloth might be. Of course, my request assumes you fully able to appreciate the dangers inherent in inadequate ingredient preparation..."
As Snape's voice drifted off, Harry began to read the student's paper. Really read it for meaning. "Oh," he said, frowning. "I think the adder's tongue would cause the potion to come out wrong, somehow, if you pulped it like he's saying to..."
A hint of a smirk played about Snape's mouth as he confirmed, "The excess blood released would in fact cause a simple hair-growing potion to grow hair inward, causing extreme discomfort, and if the antidote was not administered promptly, quite an ugly death."
"Right," Harry murmured. "But could uh..." He glanced down at the parchment. "Henry.... really have been expected to know that?"
"It was covered in lecture on no less than three successive days, in addition to being prominently mentioned in the text. No doubt you feel a bit sympathetic toward Mr. Higglesloth because your own synthesis of text and lecture during second year was slipshod to say the least."
Harry made sure he kept his voice calm. "No, I'm sympathetic because telling him he has mush for brains isn't going to help him learn anything. I know how it feels to get comments like this on my essays--"
Ron muttered something under his breath, something which sounded like "Bet you don't any longer, do you..."
"Hey, Snape still grades me just as hard as ever, I'll have you know!" Harry objected. "Uh, I mean Professor Snape, er, Severus..."
Ron snorted loudly as he resumed writing.
"Harry, let me see that parchment," Snape calmly requested. Once he had it in hand, he used his quill to add something to it, then passed it across the table once more.
The comment now mentioned apparent mush for brains. "Well, that's better," Harry allowed, "but you're still going to hurt his feelings."
"Mr. Higglesloth will survive," Snape dryly remarked. "You do understand that we'll be making this potion next week and I would prefer he take my admonition seriously? When it comes to a dangerous discipline like Potions, there is no place for coddling. I've never had a student die in class yet, and I don't intend to begin with Mr. Higglesloth's unfortunate partner."
Another muttered comment from Ron. That time, Harry couldn't catch it at all, but Snape's finely tuned hearing picked it up.
"No, Mr. Weasley," he drawled, "I did not mean that I sent students to the hospital wing so they would not die in the classroom proper."
Ron flushed in anger and pressed his quill harder to the parchment, actually snapping the tip of it off.
"You may sharpen it," Snape loftily informed him. "Using a knife. No magic."
Harry was a bit surprised Ron didn't throw the knife he fetched out of his bag. As it was, he used it with such vicious strokes that he butchered the quill.
"Here, let me," Harry said in an undertone after Snape had gathered up the scrolls and returned to his office.
Ron ignored him completely and finally managed to cut a decent end on his quill. Then, with an ostentatious show of having far more important things to do than talk to one Harry Potter, he bent over his lines again.
Completely sick of his attitude, Harry gave up on subtlety and grabbed a scroll Ron had already finished to read:
56. As the teaching staff at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is comprised of thoroughly dedicated professionals deserving of the utmost respect, I will earnestly endeavor not to impune Professor Snape's good name again.
57. As the teaching staff at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is comprised of thoroughly dedicated professionals deserving of the utmost respect, I will earnestly endeavor not to impune Professor Snape's good name again.
Harry lowered his voice to the barest whisper and leaned forward across the table. "Uh, not sure, but I think you spelled impugn wrong."
"And you're his little proofreader these days, aren't you now?" Ron sniped, making no effort to moderate his own tone.
"Listen, I'd go barmy with boredom if I didn't have something to do down here."
"Oh, you love it here and I know it. Why else would you be so stinking proud of having him for a father?"
Before Harry could answer, a deeper voice called out from the office down the hall. "I should be hearing nothing but the scratch of a quill, Mr. Weasley."
Ron openly glared, pulling back his lips in a horrible grimace that really made his whole face look very ugly.
Harry shook his head, and decided that he should probably just leave Ron to it. Gathering up Molly Weasley's letter, he headed for his room... then realized he was in no mood to deal with a fuming Draco. Sighing then, he sat down on the couch and began to figure out what he'd like to say in his thank you note to Ron's mother.
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It was much, much later when Snape came out again. Looking over Ron's shoulder, he announced, "Three hundred and twelve. Well, that's not much progress, is it? I'll see you back here again tomorrow then, I suppose."
The Potions Master collected the scrolls Ron had filled up, and banished them onto a shelf.
Ron didn't acknowledge the comment, or even say good-night to Harry. He just stuffed blank parchment back into his bag, threw Snape's quill down onto the table, and stomping to the door, shouted the charm that would open it and let him out.
"Well, that was certainly uncomfortable," Harry remarked as the door slammed shut with a resounding thud. "Just how many lines does he have to do, anyway?"
Snape tossed out the answer in a casual tone. "Oh, a mere ten thousand."
Harry felt his jaw drop. "Ten thousand?" he echoed. "Ten thousand? That'll take him weeks!"
"Will it."
"You know damned well it will!"
"What I know," Snape said with that same nonchalant attitude, "is that Mr. Weasley will think twice before he maligns me again."
Still outraged, Harry objected, "But you said yourself that he didn't really believe the rubbish he was spewing--"