Though tempted to chastise her further, the potions master let it go, purely on the basis that he had bigger fish to fry.
"I am interested in the whereabouts of Potter."
Unbelievably, the know-it-all returned to her writing.
"Where is Potter?" he repeated.
The girl shrugged her shoulders. "How should I know, sir?"
"Along with Weasley, you are permanently glued to the boy's side, so it would seem unusual that you don't know, Miss Granger. Ten points from Gryffindor for your insolence," he snapped.
Still, the girl didn't react, and the potions master had to force himself to take a deep breath before he spoke again.
Maybe Molly Weasley's take on gender differentials was accurate, after all.
"I am… concerned that there may be something troubling him, and I hoped you may be able to enlighten me."
"Have you tried asking him, sir?" Hermione enquired, flatly.
"No. I thought it best to bypass Potter altogether and come straight to you," he bit back sarcastically. "The boy refuses to open up to me about his feelings and as his friend, I hoped you would be able to offer some insight."
"Well, I can't," she said, simply. "Sorry, but I can't help you."
"Can't, or won't?" Snape asked.
The girl dipped her quill into the ink well again and resumed writing, pressing the tip of the pen so hard onto the parchment that it promptly snapped.
"I don't know where Harry is, and I don't know what's bothering him, sir."
"Don't. Lie. To me," Snape hissed, punctuating every word.
Hermione picked up another quill that was lying beside the inkwell on the desk. "I'm not–"
But the potions master had come to the end of his patience, and he moved to stand beside her, snatching the quill from her hand.