Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own any of this stuff. Therefore, I can't accept money.




The Potions Lab was boiling hot.

Inwardly, Snape was, too.

It would often get uncomfortably hot inside the classroom when the cauldrons were simmering, but opening the door usually rectified the problem. This year, even that practice had no effect. How was he to teach under such conditions, when a drop of sweat could weaken or even neutralize some of the more delicate potions? He imagined the heat had something to do with that…that ALIEN Dumbledore had hired. Imagine, choosing such a being over himself. He wondered if his boss was not becoming senile.

When Severus questioned the appointment, the Headmaster had told him that the Doctor could teach the students wandless magic, a skill which would serve them well when the war began. When Snape reminded him that the Ministry did not approve of wandless magic, Dumbledore had reminded Snape that the School Charter did not forbid the subject to be taught, and, furthermore, that it allowed the Headmaster to hire anyone of his choosing.

Meanwhile, the class brewed and sweltered.

Harry, wiping perspiration from this forehead, looked up at Snape, who didn’t seem to be affected by the heat at all.

“He’s a snake, all right,” he said under his breath.

Hermione, stirring the cauldron, sighed, “He’s used a cooling charm on his robes, Harry. You could have done the same if you had paid attention in Charms last year.”

“Hey,” whispered Harry, “You’re not sweating either.” Fingering her robes, he added, “These are cool!”

“Stop that!” Hermione hissed, gaining Snape’s attention.

Potter was displaying his flippant attitude again, Snape thought angrily as he glided across the classroom. Last year, he had had to wage psychological warfare on the boy to get him to study enough to pass his OWL. Dumbledore had asked him to help the boy, and he had done it the only way he could. He had used the boy’s hatred of himself to spur him to try increasingly harder. He had been secretly impressed at how much the boy had managed to pack into his brain over the year, even though he wasn’t about to pass him until his potions were perfect. Otherwise, the boy would have thought he was doing well enough to stop working so hard. Having been a teacher for many years, Snape knew how much effort it would take for the boy to achieve an O, and he was determined the boy was going to exert it. Now, Potter was in Advanced Potions, but he obviously hadn’t learned his lesson. He was going to have to play the heavy again. It was going to be fun.

“A public display of affection, Granger, Potter?” Snape purred. “By now you should know that the classroom is not the proper place to act upon your feelings for one another.” He emphasized these last words for Draco and Pansy, who were snickering softly.

“Ten points from Gryffindor, each,” he added. “And, for the sake of the future of Wizardkind, it would be best to separate you two. Granger, you will work with Miss Parkinson. Potter, go work with Mr. Malfoy.” The four groaned as Hermione and Draco exchanged seats. Snape strode back to his desk.

“I don’t know why I should have to work with the Mudblood,” whined Pansy.

“Quiet,” Snape warned.

"I really don't know why I have to go to school with the likes of you at all. I mean, we don't even get to go to Hogsmeade this year because old Dumbledore is afraid his precious little Mudbloods are going to be kidnapped by You-Know-Who," Pansy complained.

"Purebloods have been kidnapped too," Hermione reminded her.

"So? They're just Mudblood-lovers like that senile old man in the Headmaster's office," Pansy said authoritatively.

"He's not senile," said Hermione through gritted teeth.

Snape glared in their direction, and Pansy temporarily fell silent. After a little while, she began badgering her cauldron mate again.

“Next time, Granger, when you and Potter feel like snogging, do us a favor and go somewhere we don’t have to watch,” sneered Pansy.

“He was just feeling my robes,” argued Hermione.

“He was feeling you up?” whispered Pansy a little too loudly. Malfoy snickered at Potter.

After a minute, Pansy continued. “Dumbledore really is senile, you know. That stupid Headmaster should be dismissed right now, letting in Mudbloods, werewolves, half-giants, and now aliens! I mean, what’s an ALIEN supposed to teach us? What can he POSSIBLY understand about witches and wizards? It’s madness.”

“I think he can teach us quite a lot,” answered Hermione.

“Look at the slut!” Pansy whispered quite loudly. “Now she’s whoring after both Potter and the alien!”

Everyone turned and stared at Hermione.

Hermione replied calmly, in the same stage-whisper, “You’re about to add the lacewings too early, Parkinson. They’ll make the cauldron explode more violently than any of Neville’s ever did.” The students, other than Pansy and Draco, stifled laughs.

Shooting her partner an ugly look, Pansy put the ingredient back on the table.

“Showing off again, Granger?” Snape asked silkily. “Want to make sure the whole class hears? Five more points from Gryffindor.”

Pansy smiled smugly over the cauldron at Hermione, who stirred with an angry look on her face.
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