Coffee

Snape the Bastard was back. Sigh.

And he seemed to be compensating for yesterday's humiliation.

He had snapped at the poor 2nd year who had diligently woken up for breakfast on a Sunday. He had snarked at Professor McGonagall who merely gave him a clipped "Good morning to you too," and turned around to talk to Professor Sprout. He had snarled at Professor Trelawny for asking him to Hogsmeade the following Saturday. And then he had sneered at Hermione for just being there.

Was this going to be a problem later on?

Hermione watched him closely throughout breakfast. He drank four cups of coffee, which was a very bad sign. One meant he would take 30 points off of Gryffindor at some point during the day. Two meant 40 from Gryffindor, 10 each from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff and 2 detentions. Three meant he would take 60 from Gryffindor, 30 each from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, give 3 detentions, and make two girls and a boy cry. And four meant he would send you to Filch for breathing.

Snape rarely reached four, but he apparently needed it today…

The last time had been after he received a dozen roses and a sweet poem from a student on Valentine's Day. The time before that had been after the Final Battle, just to spite Madam Pomfrey for confining him to the Hospital Wing for three weeks. Unlike a typical day of teaching, he had driven students out of the Hospital Wing.

This was very, very bad.

And then, the Headmaster walked into the Great Hall; Snape immediately added another cup to the four. Hermione decided she would need to get a helmet, wear a bullet proof jacket, and spend the morning reviewing very advanced, bordering on Dark, shields and wards. And also practice that new invisibility charm she had invented the week before and wanted to test out. Don't forget, she is a Charms Mistress.

The entire castle was panicking. Hogwarts and its inhabitants could feel the angry magic whipping around Snape, so strong that it was felt all the way to Hagrid's cabin. Fang was wimpering and cowering under the table.

He had been angry during breakfast that morning, but after the fifth cup of coffee and a jovial greeting from the Headmaster, his anger had grown exponentially.

Dumbledore had then kindly offered to pour him another cup of coffee…

That was when the Headmaster's breakfast had burst into furious flames, almost singeing his precious beard. One would think that after twenty years of breakfast together, he would have learned something.

Apparently not.

The Slytherins had burst into furious laughter at the show, some cheering and one even shouting a loud whoop.

Snape had given the Slytherin table a barely-perceptible nod of appreciation before stalking out of the Great Hall, taking his roaring fury with him. The Headmaster merely sat frozen in his chair, looking relieved to have survived whatever that was. When he finally looked down at his plate, he seriously berated himself for his lapse of judgment the day before.

The fire had eaten all of his breakfast.

For the rest of the morning, everyone avoided Snape as best as they could, which was much more difficult than usual – he never stopped prowling the halls. They could all feel him approaching by the growing strength of his magic, but there were only so many unused classrooms and hidden alcoves along the halls. He was the hunter and everyone else was prey.

The castle, as a sentient entity, could feel the students' desperation. It hadn't felt such chaos since Albus had been a student. Albus Dumbledore… Sometimes, you could really hate that stupid goat. Was he trying to destroy the castle? Next time the Headmaster tried to enter his office, Hogwarts decided it would lock him out for a day or two.

After giving the castle-equivalent of a sigh, it began recruiting staircases to vanishing as soon as Snape arrived and requesting the ghosts and portraits to direct scurrying students to secret passageways never before known to the Live Beings. Even Peeves took pity on the students.

But even with all the help and caution, each House aside from Slytherin lost over 300 points in the span of three hours; the Slytherins lost only 180. It was an unprecedented amount, overshadowing the previous record by 400 points.

In conclusion, everyone would hate their beloved Headmaster if they ever discovered the cause of Professor Snape's tantrum.

This was an incident that would certainly be recorded in 'Hogwarts: a History'.

After lunch, Hermione cautiously pulled opened the portrait to the Room of Requirement and peered in. All clear; it was always a good idea to arrive anywhere before Snape. She stepped into the room and looked around.

There was small clearing surrounded by large boulders, thick bushes, and stout trees, perfect for an outdoor wizards' duel. It was littered with places to hide and is that a trench? The clearing itself looked quite pleasant, but the rest of the room look like she was expecting a massive confrontation. Which she was, but she couldn't let Snape know that. She would be slaughtered.

She quickly stepped back out of the Room and paced back and forth. She imagined the perfect potions lab with a wide table in the middle. The temperature would be perfectly controlled, the ingredients would be organized according to his preferred system, and there would be a wide bookcase with an extensive collection of potions references. She also added several pickled jars around the room for effect. And don't forget a large pot of tea brewing off to the side.

To Snape, two cups of tea usually negated a cup of coffee.

She stepped back into the Room and looked around again. Perfect. Or, almost perfect. She would have preferred a comfortable armchair in a corner, but Snape would probably bite her head off for that. She would try after five cups of tea.

She left the portrait ajar and strolled cautiously over to the table. As quiet as possible. Almost tiptoeing. Why? She asked herself. Ridiculous! He hadn't even arrived yet!

Then she felt it.

The ominous feeling of approaching danger, with nowhere to run.

The portrait was flung wide open and Snape raged in with his magic still pulsing. Hermione bit her lip with worry for the jars within the room, as well as herself. The vials began to clank, the bookshelves began to shake. He had his glare and sneer on at full blast; his robes were billowing as if in a storm. She waited for him to shout, scream, holler – something. But he completely ignored her and swept around to plant himself on a stool.

Hmm, strange.

She was standing mere feet away but she barely felt anything malicious from his angry magic as it swirled around him. Very strange. This wasn't as bad as she had expected for five cups of coffee. He must have had a cup or three of tea sometime in between. Or maybe their truce from the mutual hate for the Headmaster was still in effect.

But that didn't mean he would be pleasant to work with – not that he was usually.

"Well, let's get on with it," The acid in his voice burned through her thoughts.

Hermione nervously set the large bag of Muggle electronics on the middle of the table and began to take things out: six packs of AA Duracell batteries, three radios, four lamps, three clocks, five flashlights, two cameras, two remote controlled toy cars, four mobile phones, and two glorious laptops.

But before they began she offered, "Can I get you some tea?"

"No."

How many cups of coffee do you drink in the mornings? Review! I would love to know what you think.