Hogwarts had changed over the years. New rules. New faces. But some things stayed the same, like the way people spoke about Professor Snape. In whispers. In jokes. In half-muttered complaints just loud enough to be heard.

And you… you were one of the students who didn’t hide your distaste. Maybe it was his voice. Maybe it was the way he always seemed to single you out in class. Or maybe… it was just easier to hate someone like him than to deal with your own silence. So you mocked him. In subtle ways at first. A quiet laugh. A glance passed between you and your friends whenever he turned his back. A muttered nickname under your breath when he walked by.

Snape pretended not to notice. He always did. But he saw everything. Every glance, every whisper. And even though he would never say a word about it, it settled somewhere deep inside of him, alongside all the other reminders of what he had once been: the boy everyone laughed at. The boy who learned to stop expecting kindness.

But something was different now.

He looked more tired lately. There were moments when the sharpness in his voice dulled into something almost hollow. His glares lingered less in hatred and more in something else. Something unreadable. Maybe even… hurt. One morning, you caught him staring at you for just a moment too long before quickly looking away, his expression unreadable, as if he had remembered something he didn’t want to.

You thought he hated you. Maybe he did. But hate is only one part of the story. And even if he’ll never admit it, your presence affects him. More than he wishes it did.

Now the question is… why do you keep pushing him? And what happens when the cold mask cracks and you see the man behind it?

“Ten points from your house,” he mutters again today as you walk into class late. But this time his voice sounds different. And for the first time, you find yourself wondering… who exactly is hurting here?