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Greasy Professors

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Greasy Professors

Ron had been talked into abandoning Harry and Auror training in favour of completing his eighth year at Hogwarts. Needless to say, it was Hermione that had talked him round. Honestly, Ron expected things to be different now, after all, Snape had been revealed to be a war hero who miraculously survived a deadly snake bite. Clearly, war hero Snape would be a lot nicer. Snape would no longer have to pretend to hate the lovely righteous Gryffindors because he was practically one of them. Ron's new found respect of Snape did not last long.

He was sat there in the Great Hall in the first week when he managed to get his first detention of the year. Ron was minding his own business, savouring the last of the sausages, and a few slices of toast. It was then that he heard the stuttering of a petrified first year.

"S-s sorry s-s sir," he stuttered.

The child was slight, tiny even. Ron never imagined that they were that small. He had bright blonde hair, and watery blue eyes, his fidgeted and cowered under the infamous glare of one Severus Snape. Ron could see what had happened, a bowl of porridge had been dropped, right in front of Professor Snape coating his pristine black teaching robes.

"That will be ten points from Gryffindor for being needlessly clumsy," Snape spat.

There was no way that Ron would stand for that. This was his and Harry's duty, to protect innocent first years from greasy teachers. He shoved a final sausage in his toast filled mouth and tried to chew and swallow, ready to take on the most fearsome Hogwarts professor.

"S'not fur sssir," Ron mumbled as food debris sprayed out of his mouth.

"Ah. Mr Weasley," Snape said, sneering. "You never fail to impress."

Ron gulped, struggling to swallow all that was left. "You can't pick on the first years. He did nothing wrong; it was an accident!" Ron defended the small child.

"Really? Did you see what happened while inhaling all the food on Gryffindor table?" he smirked at Ron.

"Getting the title: War Hero doesn't entitle you to be a prick … sir."

"Excuse me?" Severus questioned, his voice low, steady, but it was clear Ron was treading on dangerous ground.

"I helped the war effort, and you don't see me lording it over the slimy little Slytherins," Ron spat. "So maybe the Ex-Death Eater can manage to reign it in for the rather innocent first-year Gryffindors?"

"You helped the war effort?" Severus smirked. "How? If I remember rightly you abandoned Potter when he needed you most, whereas I was giving him rather useful weaponry."

"So I make one mistake, and it undoes all the ways I helped Harry?" Ron asked, his temper rising. It was visible in the tinge of red the spread up his neck; it was even visible on the tips of his ears.

"Yes, because that's not the only time you abandoned our great saviour," Snape replied snidely. "If I remember rightly you abandoned him when his name went into the Goblet of Fire also? When they say 'Golden Trio', I wonder if it should really be 'duo'? What did you bring to the table exactly?"

"Get off your high horse, I was always there for Harry, even when I was a pillock - you abandoned your friend, called her the vilest names and followed an evil psychopath that was hell-bent on killing her." Ron glared at Severus who was suddenly snarling with a rage that Ron had no idea existed. It was clear he had hit a nerve. "Oh, but wait, you swapped sides post-mortem, so it's all good. Harry might have respect for you now, but me? I can see you're just the same as before. If it weren't Harry's mum that died, you'd still be a filthy Death Eater, wouldn't you?"

Severus stood there stock still, glaring at Ron. If looks could kill, Ron would most certainly be six feet under by now.

"When you bullied Hermione, called her names, did you ever think what your precious Lily would have thought? Bullying her son, and his friends, bullying a Muggle-born girl, just like her?"

"Detention," he spat back. "And fifty points from Gryffindor for being an ignorant, disrespectful brat."

"Totally worth it. Sir."

"I will see you Saturday morning, eight a.m sharp."

"See you then," Ron spat back.