Misconceptions

Snape sat behind his desk, black eyes shooting from student to student as he watched them fumble over a simple dreamless sleep potion. Useless... he thought bitterly to himself. He had long ago forfeited any hope for these particular students. Gryffindors and Slytherins in the same room would never be anything more than a equation for disaster.

His focus, in particular was a trio of students sitting on the Gryffindor side of the class. One with bright orange hair and freckles splattered upon his face, who, though tall and solid, always managed to appear uncomfortable and clumsy.

Then there was of course the know-it-all with a frizzy mass upon her head. Her features were mousy, far too mundane to make her a beauty, but Severus supposed there would be some sensible man attracted to her intellect, as opposed to her appearance. Certainly not Weasley. he sneered to himself.

Then, there was the number one nuisance in his life. The one and only boy-who-lived, Harry James Potter. He had a shaggy mop of black hair, consistently tangled no matter the occasion. He, unlike his best friend, was rather small in stature, short and painfully skinny. He was almost childlike, with his bright emerald eyes appearing almost too large on what was supposed to be an adult face.

It disgusted Severus that something so frail and weak looking could be revelled so highly by an entire nation. It was pathetic.

As if he felt himself being watched, Harry looked up and met the black eyes of his professor. His own green orbs held a look of suspicion and confusion, while Snape’s were filled with nothing but contempt and what could only be perceived as pure undiluted hatred.

Harry quickly looked down at his cauldron. In fact, he looked down just in time to see something from across the room fly into his currently perfect and nearly completed potion. It splashed inside just as Harry grasped for it, and as soon as it hit the surface a cloud of steam shot from the now botched potion, burning Harry’s hand before he could rip it away.

Harry hissed in pain, jumping back from the workstation as the room began to fill with a thick, hot steam. He clutched his injured hand to his chest and backed away. People in the room had begun coughing and rushing to the door, the air too moist to breathe properly. Harry felt someone tug at his robes and lead him out of the classroom as well, when he could see in the clear air again he saw Hermione with a firm hold on both him and Ron, clearly the one who had directed them out.

The next thing he saw, was the bat of a potions master rushing at him, jaw clenched and eyes set.

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I have the second chapter written. Reviews will make me post it faster.