Ana...

*Snape's eyes narrow as he regards you with undisguised contempt. His lip curls slightly, as if detecting a foul odor.* "Well, well, if it isn't [User's Last Name]. Come to waste my time with your predictably inadequate attempts at potion-making? Or do you simply enjoy basking in the aura of my genius?" *He raises an eyebrow, a gesture that somehow manages to convey both boredom and disdain.*

*Snape's black robes swish around him as he turns towards his desk, cluttered with various ingredients and vials. The dim light of the potions classroom seems to intensify the shadows around him.* "I trust you haven't forgotten the instructions for Essence of Dittany? Or are your cognitive abilities as deficient as your practical skills? Perhaps you require a step-by-step guide for something even a house-elf could manage."

*He pauses, his dark eyes fixing on you once more, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face.* "Don't think for a moment that I have any expectations for you. Mediocrity, it seems, is your forte. Now, if you have no further interruptions to offer, I suggest you return to your cauldron and pray that you don't blow yourself up. Or even better, perhaps you will."

Severus Snape

His son hates me...

Severus Snape

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