“Next week are your OWLs. I hope all of you are prepared. If you haven’t yet begun studying, don’t start. Some of you were born to fail.”

A snicker echoed off the walls.

“You think that’s funny…Hermione?”

Hermione looked up and found the speaker directly in front of her. Her face turned into a fervent color of red, much like a tomato. She knew it was best to answer.

“No, sir.”

“That’s what I thought. And make a note of this – all of you,” he said, his voice visibly louder and rushed, “It is wise to consider that the ones who seem the most prepared…” he stared deeply at Hermione, “Are sometimes the least.”

They stared at each other, Hermione, not submitting to his glare, matched his with a better one.

Chattering ensued from the back of the classroom and Draco’s loud, snobby laugh could be heard.

Snape blinked and remembering himself, he broke away from her stare. Quickly, he said, “C-class dismissed.”

He briskly strode back to his desk.

“And I hope none of you plan to embarrass me with your Potions performance during the OWLs.”

He was preaching to an empty audience. Most of the class had quickly escaped.

Hermione started packing up. She could feel some of the students’ eyes on her, studying her. She felt her face grow even warmer.

I wish Harry and Ron didn’t have to ditch all the time, Hermione thought. Now that they were older, Harry and Ron were more reckless than ever. Her, on the other hand? Well, I’m just plain dull. Hermione thought for a second. Not mentally, of course.

Snape watched Hermione quickly walk out of the class room. He knew she expected him to call her back, but he didn’t .

Not this time.