Severus Snape was in a downright foul mood today.
He'd arrived at the Potions lab early, but that familiar figure was nowhere in sight.
Snape waited for ages—long enough to hear the sparrows chirping outside and watch squirrels leaping from branch to branch, gathering nuts for winter.
Only then did it sink in: Tom wasn't coming today.
Snape's first thought was…
Something hasn't happened to Tom, has it?
For the longest time, no matter the weather—rain or shine—that kid had never missed a day. Snape never even had to grab breakfast from the Great Hall himself; Tom always brought it for him.
All of a sudden, Snape felt… off.
…
Severus Snape had two classes today.
"Pettigrew!" Professor Snape's mood was as sour as ever. "Kindly explain to me why—why—you managed to make such an idiotic mistake!
I'm certain I've said this more than once: celia grass is a delicate ingredient. It can't handle high heat and must be added last. Look at what you've done!
Congratulations! You've dragged down Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger. Gryffindor—minus 10 points!"
"Longbottom, what exactly are you looking so smug about? In my eyes, you're just as dim as Pettigrew. Gryffindor—another 10 points!"
Ten points…
Sure, Snape loved docking Gryffindor points, but he usually stuck to fives.
It was clear his mood was really bad today.
"Sorry, Hermione," Harry whispered. "I… I got distracted. If I hadn't zoned out, I wouldn't have messed things up for you guys."
"No big deal," Tom said casually, waving it off. "It's nothing. I don't mind."
"Miss Granger…" Somehow, Snape had materialized right behind Tom. "You seem to have very little respect for me. Is chatting during my class enjoyable?
Gryffindor—another 10 points!
No need to finish this lesson. The whole class can stay here and copy out the uses of 100 different potions. Due next week."
Gryffindor's reputation for losing points was well-earned.
…
Afternoon.
"Hufflepuff—minus 10 points!"
"Ravenclaw—minus 10 points!"
"Why is Ravenclaw missing a student today? Tell me—where's your precious Tom Riddle, the one you all call the most brilliant first-year?"
Terry raised his hand. "Professor Snape, Tom's sick. He wasn't feeling well. This morning when we got up, he was still in bed with a high fever."
Snape cut him off instantly. "Excellent. So tell me—when exactly did I give you permission to speak? Do you think raising your hand means you can just talk?
Ravenclaw—minus 10 points!
Someone's absent without informing me in advance—Ravenclaw, another 30 points off!
And you, Terry Boot—explain why you didn't take your dorm mate to the hospital wing. Minus 10 points!"
Snape swept a cold glare across the room. "No need to continue this lesson. Stay here and copy out the uses of 100 potions. Due next week."
With that, he flicked his robes dramatically, slammed the door, and stormed out.
Not long after, he stood outside a dorm room door. He raised his hand to knock… then lowered it.
He was debating whether to knock or just barge in.
…
"Cough, cough…" Hermione lay miserably in bed, her breathing heavier than it had ever been.
This was the first time she'd realized this body could actually get sick like this.
In her mind, Tom's body was invincible—immune to everything. Who'd have thought a simple cold could knock it flat?
Her mouth was dry. She tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness pinned her back down.
She reached for her wand on the nightstand and flicked it toward the table across the room.
Her voice came out hoarse as she muttered the spell.
The water glass wobbled into the air, drifting unsteadily toward the bed.
"Crash—"
It hit the floor and shattered.
"Bam!"
The door flew open with force. Snape burst in—he'd heard the crash.
Seeing the wilted figure on the bed and the broken glass on the floor, Snape let out a quiet breath of relief.
Instinctively, Hermione tried to sit up, but one icy glare from Snape stopped her. "Tom, what do you think you're doing?"
"S-sorry, Professor," Hermione said between coughs, clutching her mouth. Guilt flooded her eyes. "I tried to get up, but… cough… I can't right now. And I accidentally broke the cup you gave me."
"I meant why are you trying to sit up at all!" Snape's voice grew even colder. "Even Muggle children know you're supposed to rest when you're sick. Is that basic fact beyond you?"
He seemed angrier now, though Hermione had no idea why.
"Lie down. Why haven't you gone to the hospital wing?"
Between coughs, she answered, "I didn't want to bother anyone. It's just a regular cold—it'll pass soon. And if I went to the hospital wing, they'd definitely make me take the day off. Then I'd miss Potions.
Potions is only once a week, Professor. I didn't want to waste the chance…"
That was the exact answer Tom had coached her to give.
Sure enough, she saw Snape soften—just a little. The tension in his weathered face eased slightly.
Only people who spent a lot of time around Snape could read those tiny shifts; the man practically always wore the same scowl.
"Idiot."
Snape flicked his wand, vanishing the glass shards and tossing the remains.
"Professor, I could've fixed it with magic."
"Idiotic. Once something's broken, it stays broken!"
Snape took a couple deep breaths to calm himself, then looked at Hermione on the bed.
But that one look stirred him up all over again.
The cracks in the Occlumency shields were getting wider…
Tom always kept his hair in a little braid at the back. It was long, but in daily life it never made him look feminine—just handsome.
Right now, though, Hermione was buried under the blankets with only her head sticking out.
Snape saw those emerald-green eyes and the long hair fanned out behind.
For a split second, he thought he was looking at someone else—someone familiar.
And for reasons he couldn't explain, his usually stoic student looked so fragile when sick.
Almost… delicate. Like a girl.
Idiot.
Snape muttered it to himself.
He poured a glass of water and handed it over. "Hospital wing. Now."
"Okay…" Hermione struggled to sit up—and immediately collapsed forward.
"Moron."
…
Hogwarts had a beautiful sight that day.
Nobody dared get too close—they just watched from afar and whispered among themselves.
For example, the Gryffindors who'd just gotten out of class were buzzing about it.
"Did I just see that right? Harry, pinch me!"
Ron had never looked so shocked.
That… that Snape—the guy who hated everyone—was carrying someone on his back?
"Ow—too hard! I didn't say pinch that hard!"
Harry shrugged. "How else would you know you're not dreaming?"
"Oh my God, does Snape have a secret daughter at school? I've never heard about this! And who's Snape's wife? How'd they make such a pretty kid?"
Tom was struggling not to laugh. "Guys, calm down. Take a good look—those broad shoulders, those jade-green eyes. Don't they remind you of someone?"
Ron caught on first. "Tom has a sister? Sweet—I gotta get on Tom's good side. Third-year Christmas ball, I'm dancing with her!"
Harry had almost nodded along, but the more he looked, the more familiar the face seemed.
"Wait… isn't that Tom?"
"Huh?" Ron blinked in shock. "No way… wait, yeah, it kinda is."
Tom couldn't hold it in anymore and chuckled. "Who else could get Professor Snape that worked up? Anyway, friends—you two should hit the library and finish copying those potion notes. Don't leave it till tomorrow."
"You coming, Hermione?"
"Nah, I'm heading to the hospital wing."
As Tom walked off, Ron scratched his head. "Is Hermione sick too? Harry, did she seem off to you today?"
Harry rolled his eyes inwardly.
Sick? Yeah, right.
She's clearly going to check on Tom.
…
"Mr. Snape!" Madam Pomfrey's face changed the second she saw him carrying a student in. "Good heavens—put the child down quickly."
Snape did.
"Thank goodness…" Madam Pomfrey checked Hermione over and sighed in relief. "Relax, dear—you'll be fine soon. You've got a strong constitution; you must exercise a lot.
But no classes for the next few days. You need proper rest… Mr. Snape, are you leaving already?"
She hurried to stop him as he turned to go. "Severus, this child needs rest. Maybe you could stay and look after him… if you have time."
"Why would I waste my time on that?" Snape's expression was icy.
"Sir, every sick child craves a little care. They need someone by their side. Professor Snape—don't you have another class soon?"
Snape glanced down and saw Hermione's eyes flutter open. She blinked up at him with a look full of quiet longing.
"…Fine," Snape sighed. "I can stay one hour. You'd better be asleep by then, because I'm leaving after that."
"Thank you, Professor."
Their exchange wasn't exactly warm—just a reluctant agreement.
Tom was eavesdropping just outside the door.
Maybe I should wait an hour before going in?
If I run into Professor Snape right now… he'll probably dock Gryffindor a ton more points.