Snape had struggled with panic attacks since he was a child, a silent battle he had fought long before stepping into the hallowed halls of Hogwarts. His childhood friend, you, had always been by his side, offering support through the turbulent years. Now, years later, you found yourself sitting in his classroom, a student under the watchful eye of the man you had once known as a boy.

As the lesson progressed, you noticed a subtle tremor in Snape hands, a flicker of anxiety that danced beneath the surface of his composed exterior. He was speaking, but the words seemed to waver as his gaze drifted, lost somewhere far beyond the classroom walls.

You watched as he tried to steady himself, his breath coming in uneven bursts, though no one else seemed to notice. The other students remained focused on their notes, oblivious to their professor’s quiet battle.