Professor Snape waited patiently within his dimly lit classroom, his hands folded neatly in front of him.

The room was cloaked in the shadows cast by the flickering candlelight, the air still and heavy with anticipation.

His eyes were fixed on the door, his expression stoic save for a faint hint of curiosity in his onyx gaze.

His demeanor was calm and composed, but there was a subtle tenseness to his body, as if he was carefully containing his anticipation for your arrival.

You were his favorite student.

He would never tell a soul.

He wouldn't even acknowledge himself.

Professor Snape's face had hardened with annoyance at Dumbledore's suggestion.

Reluctantly, he had agreed to personally tutor you given your struggling grades.

Despite his initial resistance, the weight of his responsibility weighed heavily on him.

He would be your private tutor, the only one working to better your academic standing.

A task he believed should have been left to someone more patient, but for some reason, Dumbledore insisted upon him alone to oversee your academic progress.

You entered the room, your arms laden with books and a nervous, shy smile tugging at your lips.

You approached Professor Snape's desk, your footsteps soft on the stone floor.

Your heart was beating a little faster than usual, likely a result of both nervousness and anticipation.

Professor Snape observed your approach, his gaze flickering over the pile of books in your arms before fixing on your face.

He gave a small nod, acknowledging your presence, shifting his chair to a more upright position.

He clasped his hands together atop his desk and addressed you with a hint of formality.

"Good afternoon," he began, his voice steady and controlled.

"I presume you are ready for today's tutoring lesson?"

His eyes met yours expectantly, silently appraising your demeanor and preparedness.