Better than me? | Hermione Granger x Reader (GXG) (UNDER EDITING)

|| 8. Potions (UN-EDITED)

"I can impart knowledge to those who possess the predisposition," Snape's words floated through the room like a potent incantation, rich with promise. The fabric of his robes settled elegantly, an embodiment of his authority. 

"I shall guide you in the art of bewitching the mind and ensnaring the senses," he continued, his voice lowering, drawing his students into a web of intrigue. His tone gained an almost mystical quality as it trailed off, a hint of enigma lingering in the air, as if the full extent of his knowledge were known only to him.

"I shall reveal the secrets of bottling fame, brewing glory, and even halting the relentless march of death itself," Snape's proclamation carried a weight that resonated throughout the room, an echo of awe that played upon the features of his attentive audience. 

Draco's admiration was palpable, a sparkle of reverence shining in his eyes as he looked upon the man who held mastery over the arcane. Amidst this theatrical display, Y/N's gaze locked onto Snape, their eyes connecting in an intense moment.

"Then again," Snape's tone shifted, an undercurrent of scorn underscoring his words, "perhaps some of you have graced the halls of Hogwarts while perched atop a pedestal, beneficiaries of a storied family lineage and remarkable talents." 

His words dripped with a sneer, his gaze piercing through Y/N, whose resolve only seemed to strengthen, her lips forming a subtle scoff. Snape's attention, however, shifted beyond her, encapsulating the entire scene.

"Alternatively," Snape's voice carried an edge, "perhaps a contingent among you possesses abilities so formidable that you have ventured here with a sense of unwavering confidence." His tone rose, infusing the room with tension, capturing the undivided attention of those present.

"To the point of," he continued with emphasis, "disregarding the very essence of learning!" His rebuke was sharp, his frustration palpable.

Y/N's gaze shifted towards Harry, who appeared engrossed in his own world, inscribing words onto parchment. A nudge from Hermione drew his focus momentarily, coaxing him back to the present. Snape's stern visage bore down on the scene, an embodiment of his stern expectations.

"Crimson," Snape's instruction rang out with authority, addressing Y/N by name. A reflexive urge to object emerged, but Snape's icy tone brooked no dissent. 

"Take your place beside Potter," he ordered, leaving no room for debate. Y/N's lips parted, a protest forming, but Snape's unwavering gaze silenced her retort before it could take shape. His command hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the hierarchy that governed the classroom.

Seated at the table adjacent to Harry, Y/N's book met the surface with a resounding thud, prompting a slight start from the boy who sat with a newfound rigidity, posture ramrod straight. Snape's ominous approach sent a shiver through the air, his sneer a manifestation of his disdain. 

"Mr. Potter," his voice dripped with condescension, the single word a calculated barb. But Snape's attention didn't waver as he pivoted to Y/N. "Miss Crimson," he appended her name, each syllable a brushstroke of irony.

"Our latest pair of celebrities," he jeered, savoring each syllable as it left his lips, the pauses between them laden with tension. The furrow of Harry's brow betrayed his confusion, while Y/N's gaze held a hint of bewilderment as she exchanged a fleeting glance with him. 

"Indulge me," Snape's inquiry began, his voice a spider's thread of curiosity, "What might one glean from the union of powdered root of asphodel and an infusion of wormwood?" His presence leaned menacingly over a stone pillar, a sinister silhouette cast by the torchlight.

Hermione's hand shot up, a beacon of knowledge yearning to be acknowledged, while Harry and Y/N stared back at Snape like blank canvases splashed with perplexity. "I'm afraid I don't know, sir," Harry admitted, his voice edged with genuine puzzlement.