HP: Bad Intentions

Early the next morning, Blake once again appeared in the Hogwarts auditorium, sporting a pair of heavy, unmistakable dark circles under his eyes.

As he passed by the long Gryffindor table, he casually greeted Hermione, who was already up and energetic after a restful night.

Hermione, in stark contrast to Blake, was full of vitality. She couldn't help but notice his dishevelled state. With concern etched on her face, she asked, "Did you stay up late again? What time did you go to bed last night?"

Blake turned to her, his sleepy eyes blinking sluggishly. "Stay up late? Good question. But I didn't stay up late," he replied, scratching his head. His already messy blond hair became even more unruly in the process.

"You didn't stay up late?" Hermione's gaze fell on the shadows under his eyes. "Would you like me to lend you a mirror? You have dark circles…"

Blake yawned and rubbed his eyes. "Oh, I mean, I stayed up all night. But how can staying up all night count as staying up late? If it's an all-nighter, there's no time to sleep, right?"

Hermione's jaw dropped slightly, words failing her momentarily. Finally, she sighed. "You'd better get some rest. I'll ask the professor for leave on your behalf, okay?"

Not far away, Harry and Ron, who were observing this exchange, stared in disbelief.

"What's going on?" Ron whispered. "Since when does Hermione go easy on anyone, let alone Blake?"

Harry nodded, equally shocked. "She's even offering to cover for him. Unbelievable."

Blake, however, shook his head. "No, no, no! Today's Potions class… I have to have a good talk with Professor Snape." His expression lit up with excitement at the mention of the subject.

"But Potions is in the afternoon," Hermione pointed out, her voice firm. "You still have time to rest. Go get some sleep first."

Blake finally relented under Hermione's stern gaze. "Fine, fine! I'll head back to the dorm after breakfast," he said, though his tone lacked conviction.

Hermione, however, was having none of it. "No. Go to the hospital wing. Tell Madam Pomfrey you have insomnia, and she'll give you a Sleeping Draught. That way, you can rest properly."

Blake frowned. "But I'm not sick."

Hermione crossed her arms. "Exactly. Just tell her it's insomnia. No one will question it, and you'll have a legitimate excuse to skip classes."

Realizing he couldn't win this argument, Blake sighed. "Alright, I'll do as you say."

Satisfied, Hermione smiled and returned to her breakfast. Blake activated his Eye of Truth, observing a faint golden aura around her head. He chuckled to himself. 'The top student now and a future magical luminary. Makes sense.'

Hermione noticed his gaze and blushed. "What? Why are you staring at me like that?"

Blake grinned. "Sorry, you're just so cute that I couldn't help it."

"Bastard!" Hermione's face turned crimson as she grabbed a book and swatted him. Blake leaned forward, letting the book land harmlessly on his back.

"That's fine… a bit weak, though. You could try harder," he teased.

"Do you think this is a massage?" Hermione huffed, exasperated.

"If you're offering, I wouldn't say no," Blake replied cheekily.

"Get out!" Hermione snapped, though a small smile played on her lips.

[Ding! Embarrassment detected...]

Later, Blake followed Hermione's advice and visited the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey's potion worked wonders, and he spent the day in deep, dreamless sleep.

By the time he awoke, dinner was already underway.

Beside his bed, he found a note in Hermione's neat handwriting:

You need proper rest. Madam Pomfrey and I agree on this. I also asked for leave on your behalf for Potions class. Please don't stay up late again; it's bad for your health.

Blake smiled, touched by her thoughtfulness. He understood her concern, but his nocturnal activities weren't a matter of choice. His nighttime treasure-hunting required the effects of the Lucky Potion, which also kept his senses—and his mind—hyperactive. Sleeping afterwards was nearly impossible.

He carefully folded the note, then informed Madam Pomfrey of his recovery before leaving the hospital wing. Though dinner was still being served in the Great Hall, Blake decided to visit Snape first. He knew where the kitchens were if he needed food later.

Arriving at Snape's underground office, Blake knocked firmly on the wooden door. To his surprise, the door creaked open on its own.

"Huh?" Blake stepped inside cautiously, only to find the office empty. Even with his enhanced perception, there was no sign of Snape. "Did he forget to lock up?"

His eyes wandered over the room and landed on a peculiar cauldron on Snape's desk. The design seemed oddly familiar. Curious, he approached it.

Meanwhile, Snape was hurrying back to his office, his robes drawn tightly against the chill of the September evening. As he approached, he noticed the light spilling from the doorway.

"Someone broke in?" he muttered, his hand gripping his wand tightly. He prepared for the worst, only to be greeted by the aroma of… food?

Snape stormed inside, only to find his precious new cauldron bubbling with a mixture of broth, vegetables, and meat. Seated at the table, Blake looked up, a piece of beef dangling from his chopsticks.

"Professor Snape! Care to join me for hot pot? It's delicious!"

Snape's face contorted with rage. His nostrils flared as he spat, "This is my cauldron!"

Blake's sheepish grin did little to pacify him. "Ah, I thought you bought it for cooking hot pot. It's perfect, really."

[Ding! Extremely angry emotion detected!]

[Ding! Congratulations to the host for getting a diamond treasure chest!]

This caused Blake to chuckle inwardly.

"Fifty points from Hufflepuff!" Snape thundered, his temper boiling over.

"Wait, wait! I came here for something important," Blake said hastily, holding up his hands in surrender. Snape glared but didn't throw him out immediately.

Blake reached into his bag and pulled out a parchment. "Here, take a look. It's a new potion formula I've been working on. I think you'll find it interesting."

Snape snatched the parchment, intending to tear it in two. However, his eyes scanned the contents, and his expression shifted from irritation to intrigue. He read the formula again, more carefully this time.

"This… Did you create this?" Snape's voice was measured, but there was a hint of astonishment.

Blake nodded. "Yes, with a bit of inspiration and a few lucky coincidences. It's a potion that promotes longevity and delays ageing. The ingredients are inexpensive, too."

Snape's eyes narrowed as he processed the implications. Such a potion, if truly effective, would be revolutionary. It could attract significant attention—and not just from the wizarding community.

"Why bring this to me?" Snape asked, his tone skeptical.

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