‘Good idea,’ whispered Hermione, clearly pleased that Harry was calming down. ‘Ron, what are you staring at?’

‘Nothing,’ said Ron, hastily looking away from the bar, but Harry knew he was trying to catch the eye of the curvy and attractive barmaid, Madam Rosmerta, for whom he had long nursed a soft spot. 

‘I expect “nothing“‘s in the back getting more Firewhisky,’ said Hermione waspishly. 

-Half-Blood Prince, Chapter Twelve: Silver and Opals

‘Perhaps,’ said Snape, his dark, cold eyes narrowing slightly, ‘perhaps you actually enjoy have these visions and dreams, Potter. Maybe they make you feel special - important?’

‘No, they don’t,’ said Harry, his jaw set and his fingers clenched tightly around the handle of his wand.

‘That is just as well, Potter,’ said Snape coldly, ‘because you are neither special not important, and it is not up to you to find out what the Dark Lord is saying to his Death Eaters.’

‘No - that’s your job, isn’t it?’ Harry shot at him.

He had not meant to say it; it had burst out of him in temper. For a long moment they stared at each other, Harry convinced he had gone too far. But there was a curious, almost satisfied expression on Snape’s face when he answered.

‘Yes, Potter,’ he said, his eyes glinting. ‘That is my job.’

-Order of the Phoenix, Chapter Twenty-Six: Seen and Unforeseen