Pomona jogged all the way to the Potions classroom, arriving before the castle closed.
She adjusted her breathing at the door and knocked only after making sure nothing seemed unusual about her. No voice from inside said anything like "Come in."
The lack of a ward on the door meant Professor Snape was currently "open for business." Sure enough, when she pushed the door open, she found him brewing a potion at a desk—one that smelled difficult to swallow just from the scent alone.
"Sorry I'm late," she said like a student. Of course, no student would dare say it the way she had, unless they wanted to be "watered" with snake venom.
"I trust even a dying patient can wait patiently," he said without looking up from the cauldron. "Just leave it by the door."
"Do you need any help?"
The only sound in the classroom was a bubbling gurgle, like soup at a rolling boil.
She shrugged, set the potion by the classroom door, and was just about to leave.
"Who were you meeting?" he suddenly asked.
"You mean, like a date?" she asked.
He did not answer, focusing intently on the potion. Truly a Potion nerd.
"No, I didn't meet anyone." She turned to leave again, but on a sudden whim, she looked back and found him watching her.
He naturally shifted his gaze away and stared into the cauldron.
"What exactly are you trying to say?" she asked, hands on her hips.
"Get out!" he snarled.
She got angry too, pulled the door shut with a bang, and left the dungeon.
On her way back, she ran into several Slytherin students. Most of them did not greet her when they saw her, as if they had forgotten all their aristocratic manners.
She grew angrier and angrier.