As the day progressed, Hermione's classes went smoothly. She showcased her magical prowess in Transfiguration and Charms, feeling a sense of accomplishment. During her free period, she delved into her studies, diligently completing her potions essay. However, as Defence Against the Dark Arts ended, Hermione's thoughts once again returned to her complicated situation.
As they neared the dungeons where Potions class was held, Hermione felt as though invisible shackles weighed down her feet. Despite Harry and Ron's lighthearted chatter about Quidditch, Hermione's mind was preoccupied with her upcoming class with Severus. As they approached the dungeon entrance, Harry turned his attention to Hermione.
"What do you think he'll make us do today?" Harry grumbled, his tone reflecting the general apprehension that often accompanied Potions class with Severus Snape.
Hermione frowned at Harry. "How would I know? I may live with the man, but I don't have any insight into what he plans to teach." Hermione hoped that Harry wouldn't pry into their relationship.
Now in the classroom, Hermione followed Harry and Ron to a table. Once seated, she set down her bag and nervously drummed her fingers on the table, her mind racing with apprehension about what the lesson might entail.
Suddenly, Professor Snape appeared at the front of the room, a dark scowl planted on his face. The class became silent immediately, the atmosphere tense with anticipation. It was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop, as every student awaited the start of the lesson with a mixture of fear and curiosity.
"Today I will teach you how to brew a Wound-Cleaning Potion correctly," Professor Snape announced, his voice cutting through the silence like a sharp blade. "I suspect we'll need it with this careless class. The potion stings when applied, but I promise a failing grade will sting more."
Hermione stifled a smile with her hand, impressed by Professor Snape's knack for delivering cutting remarks even while teaching. Despite his intimidating demeanor, she couldn't help but admire his sharp wit.
"Is there anyone who can tell me the characteristics of this potion?" Professor Snape's voice sliced through the silence of the classroom. With no response forthcoming, he fixed his gaze on Hermione. "Mrs. Snape, perhaps you can enlighten the class?"
Hermione was taken aback by his direct address to her. In the seven years she had known him, he had never voluntarily singled her out like this. Shaking off her surprise and remembering her obligation to respond, she quickly gathered her thoughts and spoke up.
"Of course, Professor," Hermione replied, her voice steady despite the sudden attention directed at her. "The Wound-Cleaning Potion is known for its antiseptic properties, effectively cleansing wounds of any contaminants. It also promotes faster healing due to its potent medicinal ingredients." Taking a deep breath, she continued, her voice steady despite her nerves. "When applied, it produces smoke and causes a stinging sensation upon contact, actively cleansing the wound," Hermione explained, her knowledge of potions shining through.
Hermione waited anxiously for Professor Snape's reaction, her heart pounding in her chest. She hoped her response was sufficient, always eager to prove herself whenever he was involved.
"That is correct. 10 points to Gryffindor," he responded unexpectedly, surprising Hermione with his rare acknowledgment.
Hermione was once again caught off guard by his recognition. Receiving points rather than having them deducted by him was also out of the ordinary. Disregarding the surprised looks from Harry and Ron, Hermione focused her attention on observing Professor Snape's demonstration of the proper technique for brewing the potion.
Hermione watched as he rolled up his sleeves, a gesture that reminded her of the gentleness of his touch from the previous night. Pushing that thought aside, she directed her attention to his preparations. Taking out a piece of parchment and her quill, she diligently recorded every detail she observed. However, as he immersed himself in brewing the potion, his expression of concentration only added to his allure, and Hermione couldn't help but notice how attractive he appeared when focused on his craft.
Hermione attentively observed his precise technique as he cut up each ingredient, ensuring they were all uniform in size. She took note of how he gently crushed certain ingredients, allowing their juices to infuse into the cauldron. Her eyes followed his firm grip on the stirring rod as he stirred the potion, occasionally changing direction. She absorbed every detail, determined to replicate his skillful technique.
Suddenly, Harry gently nudged her, alerting her that she had missed something. Hermione looked up at her professor and saw him glaring at her, waiting for her to respond to something he had said.
He repeated his question, annoyance tinged with a hint of amusement. "What color should the potion be once it has been completed?"
Hermione found it puzzling why he continually directed questions at her when there were plenty of other students in the class. Pushing aside her thoughts, she responded obediently, "It would be purple, sir."
"As you bottle your potion, ensure it doesn't touch your skin. A single slip can ruin it," he instructed, demonstrating the delicate process of bottling the potion. As he sealed the vial, he added, "On Wednesday, you will each be tasked with brewing this potion independently."
"For tonight's homework assignment," Professor Snape continued, his voice cutting through the room, "You will write 4 feet of parchment detailing the properties and brewing process of the Wound-Cleaning Potion." The class let out a collective groan, clearly displeased with yet another essay assignment so soon after completing their previous one.
With that, the class was dismissed, and Hermione reluctantly left with Harry and Ron. She felt the urge to stay and talk to Professor Snape, but she knew it wasn't the right time. They would see each other later that evening in their quarters.
Once sitting down in the Great Hall for dinner, Ron's frustration was evident in his tone as he exclaimed, "Why does he keep piling on more homework for us?" Frustrated, Ron turned to Hermione and boldly said, "Can you talk to your husband?"
"Ron," Hermione began, her annoyance palpable. "Do you think I have any say in how he teaches and what he chooses to do? It's his job."
"Well maybe you can use your womanly ways to persuade him not to give us any more homework," Ron suggested loudly.
Ron's suggestion was met with a mixture of disbelief and irritation from Hermione. "That's a highly inappropriate thing to suggest, Ron," she admonished, her tone sharp.
Ron didn't back down, oblivious to the attention he was receiving. "Look, I may not be happy about your new marriage, but we can use this to our advantage."
Hermione's frustration peaked at Ron's persistence. "Ron, this isn't a joke or some leverage to manipulate our professors," she said firmly, her patience wearing thin. "We have responsibilities as students, and that includes completing assignments given to us by our teachers."
Hermione felt the urge to slap him. She couldn't believe what he was asking her to do. Insinuating that she could use her body to manipulate Severus was disgusting and wrong.
"Well, obviously he seems to like you given the fact he called on you twice today," Ron pointed out. "I bet if you wiggled your hips around him, he would consider it."
Hermione's hand connected with Ron's cheek in a sharp slap, the sound reverberating through the Great Hall and silencing the surrounding chatter. Shocked gasps and murmurs filled the air as students turned their attention to the unexpected altercation.
Hermione, refusing to dignify Ron's remarks with a response, rose from the table and swiftly departed the Great Hall, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and frustration. She couldn't bear to linger in the uncomfortable atmosphere any longer.
Seething with anger and hurt by Ron's behavior, Hermione found solace at a table in the library. His disrespectful suggestions cut deep, particularly after all she had done for him. The insinuation that she could trade her dignity for leniency in essays left her feeling repulsed and betrayed.
With a mixture of determination and frustration, Hermione pulled out her notes from class along with a stack of parchment, her quill, and a fresh bottle of ink. Silently, she began to write her essay, effortlessly detailing the properties and brewing process as her professor had instructed. Though the assignment only required a length of 4 feet, her meticulous attention to detail resulted in a document that spanned 6 feet, exceeding the requirements by 2 feet.
Hermione set her quill down and took a moment to review her essay, ensuring she hadn't overlooked any details. Satisfied with her work, she carefully gathered her school supplies and returned them to her school bag.
Hermione stood up from the table, pushed her chair in, and headed out of the library, her school bag clutched firmly in her hand. She headed down to the dungeons, stopping at the portrait on the wall.
Murmuring the password, Hermione went through the portrait hole and entered the living room. She set her bag down on the floor and planted herself on the couch, feeling emotionally drained from the day's events.
Hermione put her head in her hands, trying to hold back tears. As she mulled over the day's events, she suddenly felt the couch dip, alerting her that Severus was sitting next to her. Hermione raised her head from her hands, finding herself face to face with Severus. His eyes held a rare gentleness, and she felt a wave of comfort wash over her.
"Today, you were exceptional," Severus praised in a hushed tone.
Hermione's face lit up, pleased by his approval. "In class?" she inquired.
Severus's smile widened. "Both in class and at dinner tonight," he confirmed.
Hermione's eyes dropped, feeling ashamed that Severus might have overheard Ron's disrespectful remarks. She was surprised when she felt Severus's gentle touch, lifting her chin to meet his gaze. As their eyes locked, he spoke to her in a soft tone.
"You have no reason to be embarrassed, Hermione. You didn't do anything wrong, and I am proud of you for sticking up for yourself. In fact, I would've hit him even harder," Severus reassured her with sincerity.
"Now that I have your attention," Severus continued, "I am sorry for not speaking to you this morning. I had a lot on my mind. Please don't think that you did anything wrong. I am still struggling to see you as my wife," he admitted, his tone sincere and vulnerable.
"You're having a hard time? What do you think runs through my mind all day?" Hermione responded, her voice carrying a mix of frustration and vulnerability. Lowering her tone slightly, she admitted, "Sometimes I forget how to act or what to say."
Severus nodded in agreement. "It doesn't help the fact that your friends aren't making it any easier on you," he remarked, his tone tinged with disdain when mentioning the word "friends." He was angry at the disrespect and rudeness displayed by Ron. It was true what he had told her earlier. If it were him, he would have punched Ron. But knowing Hermione, she never would truly harm her friends, even if they deserved it.
"It's primarily just one 'friend,' and right now, I'm not sure if I even want to consider him as such," Hermione murmured. "I understand they're both boys and can be incredibly immature, but I had hoped Ron would have matured by now."
Severus nodded in understanding. "It's understandable to feel disappointed when someone doesn't meet your expectations, especially when you've known them for so long," he replied sympathetically. "But remember, it's ultimately your choice who you want to associate with and who you consider your friends."
Hermione was surprised by his genuine concern for her. She was starting to see why the Ministry had chosen him to be her husband. While they weren't in love, she could sense a growing comfort in his presence. He was patient, a good listener, and surprisingly kind—a trait she never would have attributed to him before.
"Even if you don't like them?" Hermione questioned suddenly.
Severus paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts before responding. "Yes, even if they annoy the hell out of me, it's still your choice. If they make you happy, then..." He trailed off, surprised by his own words. It dawned on him that he genuinely wanted her to be happy, regardless of his personal feelings toward her friends. This realization left him feeling slightly uncomfortable, as he struggled to understand the origin of these new emotions.