In the ensuing days, Severus grappled with a growing sense of guilt that weighed heavily on him. Hermione's withdrawal troubled him deeply, and despite his efforts to maintain his usual stoicism and focus on his teaching responsibilities, he couldn't shake the longing to have her by his side. He regretted the lie he had told her, knowing it had created a barrier between them and left her hesitant to trust him again.

Severus's frustration grew as he observed Hermione easily reconnecting with Ron, her laughter piercing through the air. His gaze hardened at the sight of their camaraderie, a stark reminder of his own failings. He harbored a deep-seated resentment towards Ron and their friendship, knowing he had caused Hermione pain countless times. He wished she would choose her friends more wisely, but he understood that it was ultimately her decision to make.

Severus's anger surged as Hermione tenderly squeezed Ron's hand. With a whispered incantation, he shattered the glass sitting on the table nearby. He felt a sense of satisfaction as both Hermione and Ron recoiled, startled by the sudden noise and shards of glass.

Severus ignored Hermione's gaze, feigning interest in his empty cup as he took a pretend sip. Once she glanced away, he released a heavy sigh and rose from the table. Unable to bear witness to their laughter and excessive camaraderie any longer, he made his way out, his expression unreadable.


Severus entered his classroom with a firm resolve, intent on teaching the seventh-years one of the most challenging potions known to wizardkind – the Draught of the Living Dead. Aware of Hermione's previous difficulties with the potion during her sixth year, he was determined to assess her progress since then.

Once the students had settled into their seats, Professor Snape's commanding presence filled the room, his dark robes billowing behind him as he paced in front of the class. His gaze, sharp as ever, swept over the students, each one feeling the weight of his scrutiny.

"Today," he began, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade, "you will be tasked with brewing one of the most complex and demanding potions known to wizardkind. You have all encountered this potion in your sixth year, and I trust that you remember it well." His tone held a hint of challenge, daring any student to speak up.

A tense atmosphere hung in the air as Snape paused, allowing the question to linger. "Anyone care to hazard a guess as to what we will be brewing today?" he prompted, his expression inscrutable as if daring them to try and unravel the mystery before them.

Hermione's heart sank as Professor Snape's question hung in the air. Her eyes flitted nervously to her desk, fingers fidgeting with the parchment beneath her hands. She prayed it wasn't what she feared—a potion that had proven to be her nemesis in the past.

Memories of hours spent poring over textbooks, frustration mounting with each failed attempt, flooded her mind. She had longed to impress Professor Snape, to prove her worth as a skilled potion-maker, but this particular brew had consistently eluded her grasp.

Determined to hide her trepidation, Hermione kept her gaze fixed on her desk, fingers tightening their grip on the parchment. She couldn't bear to meet Professor Snape's scrutinizing stare, afraid of what disappointment she might find reflected there.

As Professor Snape's voice filled the room, it carried a weight that made even the bravest students hesitate. The mention of the Draught of the Living Dead sent a ripple of apprehension through the class, each student acutely aware of the potion's notorious difficulty.

Hermione's heart skipped a beat at the announcement, her stomach knotting with anxiety. The Draught of the Living Dead—a potion notorious for its complexity and unforgiving nature. Memories of her struggles with it in her sixth year flooded back, the frustration and disappointment still fresh in her mind.

Around her, the other students exchanged nervous glances, the gravity of Professor Snape's warning sinking in. A zero on such a crucial assignment could have dire consequences for their future prospects, and none were willing to risk failure.

Professor Snape's stern expression left no room for doubt about the seriousness of the task at hand. His dark eyes swept over the room, lingering for a moment on Hermione before moving on, leaving her with a sense of foreboding.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Hermione forced her focus back to the task ahead. With determination set in her jaw, she resolved to conquer the potion that had once bested her, determined to prove herself worthy in Professor Snape's eyes.

With a determined set to her features, Hermione meticulously organized her workspace, arranging the ingredients in precise order according to the potion's recipe. Each step was calculated, every movement deliberate as she prepared to tackle the daunting task ahead.

Her fingers moved with practiced efficiency as she chopped the ingredients into uniform pieces, her mind running through the instructions like a well-worn script. Each measurement was exact, every motion methodical as she poured the ingredients into the cauldron with unwavering concentration.

As the potion began to simmer over the flames, Hermione's brow furrowed in intense focus. She hovered over the cauldron, stirring with precise rhythm, ensuring that the mixture reached the perfect consistency. Every now and then, she checked the color and texture, adjusting the heat or adding ingredients as needed to maintain the potion's integrity.

Despite the pressure weighing heavily on her shoulders, Hermione remained steadfast, her determination unwavering. She refused to let past failures dictate her present success, pouring her full concentration into each step of the brewing process.

With every passing moment, the potion in her cauldron began to take shape, its aroma filling the air with a potent mixture of ingredients. Hermione's confidence grew with each successful stage, her movements becoming more assured as she approached the final steps of the brewing process.

As she added the last ingredient and watched the potion settle into its final form, a sense of pride swelled within Hermione. Despite the daunting challenge, she persevered, her unwavering focus and meticulous attention to detail resulted in a potion that met the exacting standards set by Professor Snape.

With a satisfied smile, Hermione carefully decanted the potion into a vial, her heart swelling with pride at her accomplishment. With a few minutes to spare, she stole a glance at Ron, seated to her right. Their eyes met briefly, and she couldn't help but notice the furrow in his brow as he struggled to complete his potion. His agitation was palpable, his movements growing more frantic as the deadline loomed closer.

Concern flickered in Hermione's eyes as she observed Ron's predicament. Despite their differences, she couldn't bear to see him fail, especially knowing how much effort he had put into his brewing. She debated offering assistance but hesitated, unsure if he would accept her help.

Feeling Ron's gentle touch on her hand, Hermione's heart skipped a beat. His pleading voice stirred a sense of compassion within her, overriding any hesitation she had felt before. Swallowing her own apprehension, she turned to him with determination in her eyes.

With practiced precision, Hermione discreetly intervened, deftly correcting Ron's potion without drawing undue attention. As she glanced around the room, relief washed over her when she noticed Professor Snape engrossed in assisting another student, his attention diverted away from her clandestine actions.

Focusing solely on Ron's workstation, Hermione swiftly identified the issue and enacted the necessary steps to remedy it. With a steady hand, she deftly extracted a sopophorous bean and expertly extracted its essence, carefully incorporating it into Ron's potion to rectify its composition.

With each precise movement, Hermione ensured that her assistance remained subtle, her actions seamlessly integrated into the flow of the brewing process. After adding the necessary ingredients, she subtly signaled to Ron, guiding him through the final steps needed to complete the potion.

Holding her breath, Hermione quickly diverted her attention to tidying her workstation the moment Professor Snape's gaze swept over her direction. With practiced efficiency, she wiped down the cauldron, organized her ingredients, and neatly arranged her tools, all the while maintaining an air of casual nonchalance.

As she worked, Hermione's heart raced with apprehension, her senses heightened as she remained acutely aware of the professor's scrutiny. Every movement was deliberate, every action calculated to appear innocuous, masking any hint of her covert assistance to Ron moments earlier.

Hermione's muscles tensed involuntarily as Professor Snape approached their table, a frown creasing her brow as she felt a surge of apprehension flood through her. With a quickened heartbeat, she braced herself for the impending confrontation, instinctively sensing trouble brewing in the professor's stern demeanor.

As Professor Snape loomed over their workstation, his piercing gaze fixed squarely on Hermione, she could feel the weight of his scrutiny bearing down on her. The intensity of his stare seemed to penetrate her defenses, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable under his piercing scrutiny.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Hermione couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that Professor Snape had somehow discerned her clandestine assistance to Ron moments earlier. The knowledge sent a shiver of anxiety coursing through her veins, her mind racing to concoct a plausible explanation or a defense to ward off any potential repercussions.

"Mrs. Snape," Professor Snape began, his tone sharp and unyielding, sending a chill down Hermione's spine as she braced herself for the reprimand she anticipated.

"How many times must I remind you that helping your little friends is against school rules?" Professor Snape growled, his gaze piercing as he shot a disapproving glare at Ron, who shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "I am sorry, Professor," she offered, her expression genuine as she conveyed her remorse.

"Sorry is not going to cut it this time, Mrs. Snape," Professor Snape declared with a sharpness in his voice, his dark eyes piercing hers with a stern gaze. His displeasure was palpable as he stood towering over her, the weight of his authority pressing down on her shoulders. "Detention tonight at 7. Do not be late," he commanded before turning on his heel and striding away, leaving Hermione with a sinking feeling in her chest.

As Hermione stepped out of the classroom, she was immediately surrounded by Harry and Ron. Ron was quick to speak up, his tone filled with regret. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I shouldn't have asked you to help me," he admitted, his expression sheepish as he glanced at her, awaiting her response.

Hermione shot Harry a glare and retorted, "Weren't you the one who tried to convince me that he couldn't give me detention?" Her tone was tinged with frustration as she addressed Harry's previous assurance.

Hermione didn't know what to think. She acknowledged that what she did was wrong, but receiving a detention for it unsettled her. "I think he's angry with me," she admitted softly once they entered Gryffindor Common Room.

Seated on the couch, Harry furrowed his eyebrows and asked, "For what reason? I thought everything was going fine."

Hermione shook her head in response. "No, he's been unusually quiet lately, and earlier today, I think he was the one who made that glass explode on the table."

"Why bother dwelling on it? He's always in a bad mood anyway," Ron muttered irritably.

As Hermione sat quietly, she couldn't help but ponder why she had incurred his anger earlier. She had adhered to his wishes, keeping her distance and refraining from prying into his personal life. Yet, his demeanor suggested otherwise. The incident at breakfast, with the shattered glass, only confirmed his displeasure, leaving her feeling unsettled.

Hermione's heart ached at the thought of Severus being displeased with her. She harbored a deep desire to bring him joy and had dared to envision a harmonious partnership between them. Now, however, she found herself consumed by sadness and confusion over his behavior.