Chapter 4
“Look at Snape’s thumb!” yelled Draco Malfoy, his voice echoing across the classroom. “I bet he didn’t want to take Granger’s lipstick off!” He burst into laughter, joined instantly by Crabbe and Goyle.
“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. I heard that,” Snape said dryly, making his way to his counter with a grimace that looked almost like a grin. “And just so you know, I do not mind deducting house points from my own house.” He spun sharply on his heel and returned to his desk, his robes billowing behind him.
Seated now, Snape stared down at his thumb, still stained a vivid red from Hermione’s lipstick. The mark felt heavier than it looked. Should he wipe it off? Or keep it? A part of him—one he didn’t want to admit existed—wanted to keep it. But reality clawed at his thoughts. He knew better than anyone the impossibility of whatever strange thing was simmering between him and Miss Granger.
With a deep breath, he grabbed a piece of old fabric from his drawer, wiped the lipstick clean from his thumb, and without a second thought, tossed the cloth into Seamus Finnegan’s still-burning cauldron.
At the back of the class, Harry watched the whole thing unfold. Snape, the ever-composed, ever-focused professor, suddenly shaken by a smear of red lipstick? That alone was enough to make Harry smirk. He couldn’t wait to tell Hermione. But his smirk vanished instantly as Snape snapped his head around, locking eyes with him. The infamous cold stare that had frozen countless students in place chilled Harry straight down to the bone.
“Potter! I suggest you spend more time revising for your upcoming test rather than gawking at your poor professor! If you fail—well, you know the drill!” Snape barked. The room fell silent. “You’re insufferable,” he muttered under his breath.
Two long, dragging hours later in the old, musty potions classroom, Harry bolted for the door the moment class was dismissed. He headed straight for Hermione’s classroom and waited outside like a man on a mission.
“Look at Potter, waiting for his girlfriend!” Pansy Parkinson’s shrill voice cut through the corridor, making several Slytherins snicker. Hermione flushed pink, but rolled her eyes coolly as she passed them.
“He’s not my boyfriend!” she snapped, grabbing Harry by the arm and leading him away quickly. They rounded a corner, too preoccupied to notice the presence trailing just behind them.
“You okay, Harry? Why are you here?” she asked, a little impatient, her voice low.
“Oh—I wanted to tell you something—” Harry began, but didn’t get the chance to finish.
Snape suddenly appeared beside them, stepping out from the shadows as though he had materialized from thin air. His face was unreadable, though his dark eyes gleamed with their usual disdain.
“Well, well. What do we have here? The boy who must live,” he sneered, “and the girl who insists on testing my patience daily.” His gaze fell on Hermione and stayed there, not wavering even as he addressed Harry. “I suggest, Mr. Potter, that you return to your lesson.”
Harry groaned but didn’t argue, giving Hermione a short wave before heading back down the corridor.
“I have a class waiting for me too, sir,” Hermione said quickly, trying to sidestep him. “So, if you’ll excuse me—”
She moved to walk past, but Snape stepped slightly in her way. His eyes were still fixed on her, like he was trying to say something without words. Hermione shifted awkwardly, her feet stumbling like a toddler’s as anxiety crept into her posture.
Snape didn’t say anything for a moment.
But his silence was louder than any shout.
Snape’s eyes didn’t leave hers. His tall frame blocked her path just slightly—enough to let her know she wasn’t dismissed yet.
“Miss Granger,” he said finally, his voice quiet but still holding that familiar sharp edge, “I suggest you tread more carefully. You’ve already had your fair share of attention this week.”
Hermione tilted her head slightly, her lips curling into the faintest smirk. “Is that concern I hear, Professor?”
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t do concern.”
“Right,” she nodded, stepping even closer—too close. “Just dramatic skirt-unrolling in the hallway, and sudden wipe-downs in corridors.”
“You pushed boundaries,” he said flatly, though his eyes flickered to her lips, now bare. “And now you’re flirting with the idea of detention again, aren’t you?”
Hermione leaned in just a fraction, enough for him to notice the subtle scent of her rose perfume again. “Maybe I just like your attention.”
That made him pause. His jaw tightened, but his expression remained unreadable. “Be very careful, Miss Granger.”
“I will, sir.” Her tone was all mock-innocence. “See you in class.”
She brushed past him with a little sway in her step, not turning around once.
Snape stood still, glaring at the empty hallway where she’d disappeared. He pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering to himself. “That girl is going to be the end of me.”