"Double potions?" Ron asked incredulous.
Hermione nodded, trying to hide her displeasure.
"Great," Harry added sarcastically.
"Now, now, Potter," A voice came from behind them.
Turning, the three of them saw Draco; a Inquisitorial Squad badge sticking out from his chest.
"Inquisitorial Squad?" Hermione asked.
Draco nodded, looking disgusted at having to communicate with a 'mudblood.'
"Potter, Weasley!" Professor Snape shouted down the corridor.
"Granger's here too, Sir" Draco called back, looking smug.
"Do remind me to inform your Father, Draco, that there is nothing wrong with your eyesight," Professor Snape sneered uncharacteristically as the four of them made their way to the potions classroom.
Ron smothered a laugh, as he stumbled past their Professor. Harry, too, was having trouble containing his emotions.
Hermione merely frowned slightly, observing their teacher.
Professor Snape's eyes swept over the four of them, resting briefly on the girl at the back.
She looked away, when their eyes met briefly, and walked into class.
'Act normal' he reminded himself, turning his nose away to glance at Draco.
Following the four of them in, Professor Snape pointed his wand behind him, and the door closed.
"Turn to page..." he paused dramatically, and the majority of the class grinned at one another, "Five hundred and thirty four," he finished.
There was a chorus of zips and a synchronised rustle as the class reached into their bags to withdraw their books.
Professor Snape sighed, waiting, and took to leaning against his desk, his eyes scanning the class. Once again, they came to rest on Hermione, sitting in the middle row, on the far right of the room.
His eyes remained upon her, for quite some time. Unbeknown to him, Draco was watching him curiously, still feeling mildly embarrassed at the way his favourite Professor had addressed him earlier.
"I shall be handing back your essays, momentarily," he began, pushing himself up from the desk and frowning briefly; an uncomfortable tightness within his trousers. Trying to appear unconcerned, he continued to take the lesson, "Take notes from the pages," he told the class.
The class, once silent, now had a low thrum of noise around; the students got out their quills and their ink, and began scrawling along the parchment.
As was usual, Hermione's hand shot straight into the air.
As was usual, Professor Snape turned his back, and gathered up the essays.
When he turned back, her hand had withdrawn. He let out an inward sigh, and was careful to avoid looking at her again, as he handed out the essays.
"Abysmal," he muttered as he dropped Neville's essay onto his desk; marked with a huge 'T'.
"Acceptable," Professor Snape said multiple times as he took the essays round to the majority of the Slytherins.
"Dreadful?" Draco exclaimed, to the Gryffindor's amusement.
"Well you see, Mr Malfoy," Professor Snape answered, handing out more of the essays, without a backward glance, "When I asked for an essay on Draught of the Living Dead, that is generally what I expect. Even Longbottom got the title right, if nothing else," he added. Neville blushed scarlet.
"Professor?" Hermione said, as Professor Snape headed back to his desk.
"What can I do for you?" he replied, swirling around.
The entire class fell silent, gawping at the rare show of kindness.
Professor Snape rolled his eyes.
"Well...?" he asked her, walking behind his desk, and sitting down.
"I haven't got my essay back," she said.
That voice.
So pristine, and slender.
"Professor?" A student said. It was only then that he realised he had been staring open mouthed at her.
"Ah yes," he said, pulling himself together, "I need to see you, after class," he continued, trying to look unconcerned, or disgusted – as he should.
"A-after the lesson?" she asked him, without the usual Gryffindor bravery.
"Yes, after the lesson," he snapped.
'Why does she sound afraid, of me?' he wondered to himself.
Feeling nervous, she realised, 'He thinks I'm afraid,' she thought to herself, allowing a small giggle to escape her lips. Harry and Ron glanced over at her questioningly, but she just shook her head, continuing to take notes, that she had taken many a time before.
"Right," Professor Snape called, having spent a good hour or so walking around the class, he remained perched behind them, against a shelf, "There's something I must do," he went on, trying to look serious, "So you can leave early," he said, trying to appear unconcerned.
The truth was, he just needed to get out of the class. He couldn't be around her. It was too much for him. She was too much like Lily. Far too much, so.
"Early?" Harry said aloud, as if the word was new to him.
"Yes, early, Potter," Professor Snape answered with a glare, observing the way Harry's arm brushed against Hermione's as he threw his books into his bag.
The class filed out, talking animatedly.
Professor Snape let out a long, annoyed, sigh as he closed the door behind the seemingly last person.
"Professor?" the familiar voice called.
Swallowing, Professor Snape turned.
"What are you doing here?" he said to her, trying to sound harsh, but his words were barely above a whisper.
"I didn't get my essay," she answered, hiding a smug look.
"Your essay? Oh. Your essay..." he said, looking mildly dishevelled, "Okay then," he went on, almost a ramble as he walked back to his desk and looked through the piles upon his desk.
"Is this it, Sir?" she asked, spotting a sheet of paper with her name on.
"Is what...?" he said, putting his hand within a pile so he could resume looking, and looked over at what she was looking at.
"No!" he called, withdrawing his hand from the pile and putting it upon hers, to stop her getting the paper.
She looked back at the paper, and then at their hands, before turning her gaze to him.
They looked at one another for a short while, before he stood upright.
"No," he repeated, professionally, "That was merely...a list that Alb- Professor Dumbledore wanted me to get together," he lied.
"You don't need to correct yourself; we know what he's called," she pointed out, raising an eyebrow.
Professor Snape frowned, "That isn't the point. It's manners. Besides, students aren't to call him by such things."
'Students.'
The word rang through both of their ears, over and over.
"It'd just be like you calling me Severus," he went on, trying to amend his mistake.
"Is that right, Severus?" she said to him.
Taking his gaze back to her, he frowned.
"Do you object?" Hermione asked him, in an almost child-like, playful voice.
"Undecided."