Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Harry Potter. That is the distinct honor of J.K. Rowling. Lucky chick.

It was a normal day in N.E.W.T.-level potions for Severus Snape. There were a small number of students in the class, as he had adamantly refused to take anyone into the class who had earned less than an E on their O.W.L. exam. In previous years, he had refused to take anyone who earned less than an O; however, this year that had whittled his Potions class down to a grand total of two students (one of whom was Miss Granger, the other a Ravenclaw), and he had been forced to make some exceptions. Not to mention that Minerva had refused to take no for an answer when she requested that he accept Potter into the class.

Not that he would ever admit to being scared of Minerva McGonagall.

Indeed, Snape was not in the least scared of Minerva. It was just that she knew how to make his life miserable when he didn't bend at least slightly to her will.

He would accept Potter (and, horror of horrors, Weasley) into his Potions class with little fuss, but that didn't mean he would be treating them any differently than he had in the past. On the contrary, some might argue that he had been treating them worse.

Nonetheless, it was an ordinary day in N.E.W.T.-level potions. The class was working on the Draught of Living Death, which he only expected Miss Granger to complete to anything resembling the actual thing. Yes, he did expect that of her. Potter and Weasley on their best days could not compare to Miss Granger's ability to follow directions to a T, and certainly none of his Slytherins (or the Ravenclaws).

He had a sort of grudging respect for someone who was able to make up so well for their lack of magical capacity. It was a little-known fact that ninety per cent of your magical ability was decided by the concentration you put into it, and only ten per cent of actual magic. As a Muggle-born, Miss Granger had less magic than her Pureblooded and Half-blooded counterparts; however, none of them possessed even half of the concentration she was able to utilize in her studies and her magic. Potter had his moments, Snape would admit, but those were few and far between.

Glancing around the room, Snape surveyed the rest of his students. Four Slytherins had managed an E on their Potions O.W.L. – including Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini. Of the two, he supposed that Blaise Zabini probably had the most potential after he left school. Although Zabini was a very quiet individual, Snape had noticed that his magical ability was easily one of the highest in the class. Of course, that did not matter much in Potions; as he told his students as soon as they entered in their first year, there was no foolish wand waving in his class.

Despite his general disinterest in his students, it had not escaped his notice that Minerva had been gloating around the faculty lounge for the last two days about how Zabini had come to her office and asked her for advice about asking a girl out from another house. She hadn't been very specific, but had implied that Zabini trusted her enough to ask the question, rather than his own head of house. Snape rolled his eyes whenever she brought this up, but as he walked around the room inspecting the progress of their potions, he did wonder which house Zabini had been talking of…and if his choice of Minerva as a confidante was more than a coincidence.

Normally the thought of one of his Slytherins having anything to do with someone from Gryffindor would have been enough to send him into spasms. However, he knew Zabini well enough to know that he was not the type to be interested in someone like Parvati Patil or Lavender Brown. On the contrary, the only student he thought possible of arousing the quiet Slytherin's interest was Ms. Granger, who, although it was not his place to know this, was not necessarily unattractive.

It was certainly a thought worth following.

Ten minutes later, it was time to see who had come closest to making something resembling of the Draught of the Living Dead. As Snape walked around the room, he made no effort to control the sneer that came over his face as he caught sight of many turquoise colored cauldrons—in a draught that was supposed to be clear. Obviously his students had not added the hellebore correctly.

"Can anyone tell me what it means when a draught that was supposed to be clear is now turquoise?" he asked in the silence.

Unsurprisingly, Miss Granger was the only one to raise her hand.

With a sneer, he said, "Anyone?"

He would have bet his life that she rolled her eyes to the heavens, something he had never witnessed her doing before. What was happening in the world of the Gryffindors to cause such a reaction in her, he wondered, noticing as he had not before that Mr. Potter and Weasley were not sitting in their usual spots beside Miss Granger, but were instead behind her. Catching sight of a raised hand in the back of the room, Snape would have breathed a sigh of relief if he were the type to do so.

"Mr. Zabini?"

"The hellebore was added incorrectly, sir," Zabini answered, his voice quiet but strong. Snape's eyes darted to Miss Granger as he listened to Zabini's response. She did not seem to notice Zabini, nor did she seem incredibly upset that another student had stolen her thunder.

"Excellent, two points to Slytherin." He suppressed another smirk as he heard Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley make sudden noises. "Did you need something, Mr. Potter?"

"No, sir," Potter said, although the glare he sent towards Snape almost got him a detention. However, since Snape was in one of his rare good moods, he let it slide.

"Please bottle a sample of your potion and bring it to the front of the room. I want six inches on Monday of the correct way to add hellebore to the Draught of the Living Dead. You are dismissed."

Unlike other classes, there was no groaning as he announced the extra essay. They had learned quickly that arguing with him—or expressing dissatisfaction—was only a surefire way to more work.

After the bottles had made their way to his desk, the room cleared quickly, until only Miss Granger and Mr. Zabini were still in the room. Realizing the opportunity he was being presented, Snape made for the door to his office before either could finish packing their belongings. Closing the door behind him, he Accio'd an Extendable Ear from the stash he had of things he had confiscated from students—not that he would ever admit to using one, nor to creeping about listening to students.

Snape was so momentarily disgusted by what he was doing that he almost missed overhearing something that Minerva would have killed for.

"Er, Hermione?"

There was a pause, and a shuffling of papers. "Yes?"

"So, there's a Hogsmea—er, I mean, I was wondering if you and I could study together for the test next week."

Snape resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Why on Earth had Zabini been sorted into Slytherin? The boy had no backbone.

"Okay, uh..."

"Blaise Zabini. You can call me Blaise."

"Okay, Blaise. That's fine. I usually do most of my studying in the library."

"Sounds great. Do you want to meet tomorrow night?"

"Sure."

Well, maybe not something Minerva would kill for. But certainly something he could dangle in front of her at the next staff meeting. Oh, the fun he would have...