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Sitting next to complete opposites like Ron and Hermione really does make you think. Hermione has her quill ice skating along her parchment, only pausing to dip into the ink well on her other side. Although this paper isn't due for 6 days, you can already see her ideas flowing from her mind to the page in front of her. Ron, however, is shoving his face from the platter in front of him. He notices me staring at him and raises his eyebrows at me. Resigned, I push the silver platter towards him, making him grunt protectively. I can't help but smile. I look from my best friends to the teacher table. Everything seems normal. Dumbledore and Hagrid are deep in conversation, Flitwick is readjusting the 5 books he's sitting on, Snape is staring at me. But something isn't quite the same. The way Snape is looking at me. I return my attention to him, and sure enough, he is staring. It took me a minute to realise why it was abnormal. I mean, he normally stares, but not like this. I'm used to a loathing burning glare. What I'm not accustomed to is a smile. It shocks me, and sends a weird sensation through my body. Suddenly I feel warm and a rush runs through my spine, making me both smile and shudder. I alert Hermione and Ron. When they look over, however, that fuzzy feeling leaves me as quicklyas it had come, and we all see that glare plastered back onto his face. I shake my head. I don't know what that feeling was, but I liked it and I shouldn't have.
I walked the corridor alone. Ron was still eating and Hermione had swapped the noisy hall for the library, where she didn't have to worry about Ron's juices going all over her essays. I walked slowly, scuffing my shoes as I went. Why did Snape look at me like that? And what was it i felt in my stomach? Surely not butterflies. Before any other strange thoughts could pass through my head, I felt someone stop behind me.
"Missster Potter..."
Slowly I turned. There he was.
"Professor."
A trademark snarl grew on his face.
"Office. Now."
We walked silently to his office. As I started to descend the cold stairs, Snape looked over his shoulder, and upon seeing no other people, pushed me through his office door.
"What was that fo-"
Before I could do anything to stop it, my professor had pushed his lips against mine in a rough embrace. I struggled to get free. He grabbed my collar, lifting me to his height. Sure enough the butterflies returned more furious than ever. I pushed against him, but he was immovable. Slowly he let go me. I was breathing fast, gasping for oxygen. The older man said nothing, strolling over to the door and locking it.
