Severus Snape was in a terrible mood today.
He had arrived at the Potions lab early, but the person he was waiting for never showed up.
Snape waited a long time, until the sparrows outside began chirping and squirrels jumped down from the trees to hoard winter supplies.
Only then did he realize Tom wasn't coming today.
His first thought was…
Did something happen to Tom?
For such a long time, no matter the weather, that boy had never missed a single session. Snape never even needed to get breakfast from the Great Hall—Tom always brought it for him.
Suddenly, Snape felt… unaccustomed to it.
…
Severus Snape had two classes today.
"Potter!" Professor Snape's mood was as foul as ever. "Tell me—why! Why would you make such a stupid mistake!
I've said it more than once: Celia grass is a special ingredient that cannot withstand high temperatures. It must be added at the very end. Look at what you've done!
Congratulations! You've dragged Weasley and Granger down with you. Ten points from Gryffindor!"
"Neville Longbottom, what are you smirking about? In my eyes you're just as stupid as Potter. Another ten points from Gryffindor!"
Ten points…
Although Snape loved docking Gryffindor points, he usually only took five.
It was clear his mood was exceptionally bad today.
"Sorry, Hermione. I… I was thinking about something else," Harry whispered apologetically. "If I hadn't been distracted, I wouldn't have dragged you two down."
"It's fine, it's fine." Tom waved casually. "Small matter. I don't mind."
"Miss Granger…" Snape had somehow appeared behind Tom. "You seem to have very little respect for me. Is talking during my class that entertaining?
Ten more points from Gryffindor!
You don't need to attend the rest of this lesson. The three of you will stay here and copy the effects of one hundred potions. Hand them in next week!"
Gryffindor's reputation for losing points was well-deserved.
…
Afternoon.
"Hufflepuff, ten points!"
"Ravenclaw, ten points!"
"Why is Ravenclaw missing one person today? Tell me, where has your favorite Tom Riddle gone—the boy you all call the greatest genius of the first year!"
Terry raised his hand. "Professor Snape, Tom is sick today. He felt really unwell. When we woke up this morning he was still in bed, burning with fever."
Snape cut him off immediately. "Excellent. So tell me, when did I give you permission to speak? In your mind, raising your hand means you can talk?
Ten points from Ravenclaw!
Someone is absent and no one informed me in advance. Thirty more points from Ravenclaw!
And you, Terry Boot—tell me why you didn't take your roommate to the infirmary. Ten points!"
Snape swept his cold gaze across the class. "No need to attend the rest of this lesson. Stay here and copy the effects of one hundred potions. Hand them in next week!"
With that, Snape flicked his long sleeves and slammed the door shut as he left.
Not long after, he stood in front of a dormitory door, raised his hand, then lowered it again.
He was debating whether to knock or just push the door open.
…
"Cough… cough…" Hermione lay uncomfortably in bed, breathing heavier than ever.
This was the first time she realized this body could react this way.
In her memory, Tom's body was practically invincible, immune to everything. She never expected a simple cold could knock it down so hard.
Her throat was parched. Hermione tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness pushed her back down.
She reached for her wand on the nightstand and waved it at the table across the room.
Her hoarse voice chanted the spell.
The glass floated up shakily and drifted toward the bed.
Crash—
The cup fell to the floor and shattered.
BANG!
The door was suddenly pushed open. Snape burst in—he had heard the sound of breaking glass.
Seeing the listless Tom on the bed and the shattered cup on the floor, Snape breathed a sigh of relief.
Instinctively, Hermione tried to sit up, but Snape gave her a cold look. "Tom, what are you doing?"
"I'm… sorry, Professor. I wanted to get up, but… cough… I can't right now. And I accidentally broke the cup you gave me." Hermione apologized while covering her mouth, guilt practically overflowing from her eyes.
"I meant, why are you trying to sit up!" Snape's tone grew even colder. "Even Muggle children know that when you're sick you should rest. Don't you understand such a simple concept?!"
He seemed even angrier, though Hermione had no idea why.
"Lie down. Why didn't you go to the infirmary?"
Hermione coughed as she answered, "I didn't want to trouble everyone. It's just a common cold. I'll recover soon. And if I went to the infirmary, they'd definitely make me take sick leave today, and then I'd miss Potions class.
Potions is only once a week, Professor. I didn't want to waste the opportunity…"
This was the answer Tom had taught her.
Sure enough, Hermione saw a flicker of emotion on Snape's face. The stern lines on his weathered face softened slightly.
Only those who interacted with Snape frequently could read his expressions—since he almost always wore that same sour look.
"Idiot!"
Snape waved his wand, cleaning up the broken glass and vanishing it.
"Professor, I could have repaired it with magic."
"Idiot. Once something is broken, it's broken!" Snape took two deep breaths to calm himself before looking at Hermione on the bed.
But the moment he did, the calm he had just regained vanished.
Tom always kept a little braid at the back of his head. Even with long hair, it never looked feminine—only handsome.
But now, Hermione was completely buried under the covers—except for her head.
Snape saw those jade-green eyes and the long hair spread across the pillow.
For a moment, he seemed to see a familiar person.
And for some reason, Snape didn't understand why his foolish student looked so fragile when sick.
Just like a girl!
Idiot.
Snape muttered inwardly.
He poured a glass of water and helped Tom drink.
"Go to the infirmary."
"I know…" Hermione forced herself to sit up, then immediately collapsed back down.
"Troll."
…
There was a beautiful sight at Hogwarts today.
No one dared approach. They only watched from afar, then whispered among themselves.
For example, the Gryffindors who had just finished class were discussing the scene.
"What did I just see! Harry, pinch my arm!" Ron had never looked so shocked.
This… this…
The man who hated everyone—Professor Snape—was actually carrying someone on his back?
"Ouch! That hurt! Harry, not that hard!"
Harry shrugged. "If I didn't, how would you know you're not dreaming?"
"Oh my god, does Snape have a daughter at school? I've never heard about this. And who is Snape's wife? How did they have such a beautiful child?!"
Tom almost lost it. "You two, calm down. Look carefully—at those broad shoulders and jade-green eyes. Doesn't it look like someone we know?"
Ron reacted first. "Tom has a sister? Oh man, I need to get on Tom's good side. For the Yule Ball in third year, I'm asking her to dance with me!"
Harry was about to nod in agreement, but the more he looked at that face, the more familiar it seemed.
"Wait… isn't that Tom?"
"Huh?" Ron was stunned. "No way… wait, it really is."
Tom finally couldn't hold back his laughter. "Besides Tom himself, who else could make our Professor Snape care this much? Alright, my friends, you should head to the library and finish copying the rest. Don't leave it for tomorrow."
"Hermione, aren't you coming?"
"No, I need to go to the infirmary."
Watching Tom walk away, Ron scratched his head. "Hermione's sick too? Harry, did you notice anything wrong with her today?"
Harry secretly rolled his eyes.
She's not sick. She's clearly going to see Tom.
…
"Mr. Severus!" Madam Pomfrey, the matron of the infirmary, saw Snape carrying a child in and her expression changed. "Good heavens, put the child down quickly."
Snape did as told.
"Thank goodness, thank goodness…" After examining Hermione, Madam Pomfrey breathed a sigh of relief. "Relax, child. You'll recover soon. Luckily you have a strong constitution. I'm sure you exercise regularly.
However, you won't be able to attend classes for the next few days. You need to rest properly… Mr. Severus, are you leaving?"
Seeing Snape about to go, Madam Pomfrey quickly called out, "Severus, the child needs rest right now. Perhaps you could stay and look after him… if you have time."
"Why would I waste my time?" Snape said coldly.
"Sir, every sick child craves love. They need someone by their side. Do you have class soon, Professor Snape?"
Snape saw the boy on the bed open his eyes, blink at him, and look up with an expression full of longing.
"I understand…" Snape sighed. "I can only stay for one hour. I hope you fall asleep within that hour, and then I'll leave!"
"Thank you, Professor."
Their conversation held no warmth—only reluctant requests and obligation.
Tom was eavesdropping outside the door.
Perhaps he should wait another hour before going in?
If he bumped into Professor Snape now, the man would probably dock even more points from Gryffindor…
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