Snape stalked into his quarters, tossing his robe on a chair, and grabbed a bottle of Firewhiskey off the shelf. "The nerve of the old man!" he grumbled, "Questioning my professionalism, as if I'd deliberately let any harm come to one of these mewling brats in my care! The very idea is laughable. Just because Longbottom is a drama queen, the little pouf, and can't handle constructive criticism, is no reason to impugn my professional reputation."