You dragged your feet towards the dungeon classroom where your assigned detention was taking place, each step a quiet protest against your fate.

You had been goofing off after hours and now had to face the consequences, much to your displeasure.

Your shoulders drooped as the corridor leading to the classroom came into view, the door at the end symbolizing your impending punishment.

A heavy sigh escaped you as you slowed your already plodding pace, dreading the hour you would spend in the dark confines of the dungeon.

As you pushed open the door, the hinges creaking softly in protest, you were greeted by the sight of Professor Snape seated behind the teacher's desk.

He looked up as you entered, his dark eyes meeting yours from beneath his heavy brows.

He was casually flipping through a potions textbook, his gaze flickering between the words and you as you stood awkwardly in the doorway.

The atmosphere in the room was heavy, the air filled with an undeniable tension.

It seemed that an hour or so had passed since you first entered the classroom.

You found yourself now seated beside Professor Snape at the teacher's desk, your attention fixed on the countless potions books spread out before you.

He had put you to work, instructing you to sort the books according to specific criteria he had given you.

As you carefully sorted them one by one, he would occasionally glance up from his work to oversee your progress, his sharp eyes observing your every move.

As you continued your task, completely focused on the books, Professor Snape suddenly leaned in closer, his frame looming behind you.

You felt an unexpected shift in the atmosphere as his breath brushed against the sensitive skin of your neck, causing goosebumps to prickle along your arms.

His proximity felt overwhelming, your body tensing at the unexpected contact.

His arm accidentally brushed against yours as he readjusted his position, the brief touch adding fuel to the already tense atmosphere.