As Severus Snape trudges up the path leading to Hagrid's hut, he takes a moment to reflect upon the past few months. In the wake of the Deatheater battle just outside the Forest, Hagrid has become a muted version of his normal self, and Severus has taken to stopping by for tea. He's not sure if he does it because he's looking to bring back some of Hagrid's spark or because Hagrid's shift in personality has made his company somewhat more bearable.
Sighing at the unkempt state of the hut, Severus begins to sort through the assorted towels, scraps of parchment, and biscuits that appear to have been kept in Hagrid's pockets for weeks, searching for the blasted kettle. If he starts the tea himself, maybe he can get a cuppa that doesn't still have leaves floating in it when it reaches his mouth.
Still, Hagrid should be fine. He's recently acquired yet another deadly magical specimen (Merlin knows where he got it), and should be back from introducing it to the sixth-year students any minute now. He's been talking about it all week, putting on his best show of pathos to make sure the Potter brat turns out for the occasion.
His fingers hit upon something hard and smooth at the bottom of the pile. Good.
When he pulls out the potions vial and examines the muddy residue, his satisfied smirk flickers, then dies.