Chapter 2
The next day, Hermione had Potions first thing in the morning—a thought that made her want to bury herself under the covers and never come out. After what had happened the night before, facing Snape was the last thing she wanted to do. But, unfortunately, she had no choice. With a groan, she physically dragged herself out of bed and forced herself to get ready.
As she arrived at the Potions classroom, she barely had a chance to step inside before Snape’s voice cut through the air.
"Unroll that skirt," he ordered, his deep voice laced with authority as he pointed at her with that long, bony finger.
Hermione felt a rebellious spark ignite inside her. Oh, she knew exactly what she was doing when she rolled her skirt higher this morning. A small act of defiance. A challenge.
She took a deep breath and feigned innocence. "Sir, what are you talking about? I didn’t roll my skirt."
Snape arched a single, unimpressed brow. "Miss Granger, if you refuse to unroll that inappropriate fabric, I shall have to do it for you."
Hermione's heart skipped a beat, but she held her ground. "You wouldn’t dare."
Their exchange had caught the attention of students lingering around the entrance. Some watched in horror, others stifled giggles, whispering excitedly amongst themselves.
Snape’s smirk deepened. "Try me."
Hermione attempted to push past him into the classroom, but Snape was faster. With swift precision, he lifted the edge of her cardigan, exposing her waistband, and with one smooth motion, unrolled her skirt back to its proper length. His expression remained cold, unbothered, as if this was merely another mundane task in his day.
Gasps filled the corridor. Some students exchanged amused glances, while others looked downright scandalized.
"Professor!" Hermione shrieked, stumbling back as she shoved him away, her face flaming.
Snape, completely unfazed, merely dusted off his sleeve and gave her a cool, calculating stare. "I warned you, Miss Granger. Now, I suggest you enter the classroom immediately and focus on your work."
Jaw clenched, Hermione stormed inside, her blood boiling. She practically threw herself into her seat, gripping her quill with enough force to snap it. She could feel Harry and Ron’s eyes burning into her, but she refused to look up.
"What?" she snapped, already knowing what was coming.
Harry leaned in. "What the hell was that?"
Ron gawked at her. "Did Snape just—?"
"Don't ask me!" Hermione groaned, rubbing her temples. "I don't know! He just—ugh—grabbed my waistband and unrolled it like it was the most normal thing in the world!"
Snape’s sharp voice cut through the classroom. "Silence!"
Hermione slumped over her desk, groaning dramatically. "Oh, my days… someone just kill me now." Her voice was hoarse with frustration as she finally gave up and picked up her quill, trying to drown herself in work before she died of embarrassment.