Disclaimer: The world and characters of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership at all. I only own original characters

~HP~

Down in his personal quarters in the dark, quiet dungeons, Severus leaned on his bathroom sink. His arms supported the weight of his frail body. Being that it was still rather early in the morning, the Potions master stood there in his old, gray nightshirt. A light sweat was forming on his forehead as he looked into the mirror at his pasty face and hollow eyes. But it was only a matter of minutes before Severus lowered his head to stare down into the sink. He breathed deeply against the slow, nauseating turn that his stomach had made him endure.

To say that Severus was a bit queasy was an understatement. Since rising an hour or so before, Severus felt nothing short of ill when he really should have felt rested. He had to reluctantly thank some unseen deity that he had been spared any vomiting, though that didn't stop him from kneeling before the toilet for some time, just in case. This eventually became sitting on the edge of the bathtub and leaning in on himself. And though the nausea did seem to lessen, allowing him to stand, Severus didn't dare leave that bathroom until he had no other choice.

Severus groaned as his weary eyes met those of his reflection. Of all mornings that he had to get sick, it had to be the first day of classes. True, Severus wasn't exactly enthused by the prospect of being trapped in a room with good-for-nothing simpletons again. Not to mention that he had a morning of well-meant merrymaking from the likes Dumbledore to dread. The day had every potential to be absolutely miserable. Now top that off with trying to nurse a case of indigestion. What was worse; getting sick or the thought of being sick in front of students and colleagues?

Severus took a step back away from the sink, toward the bathroom door. But that suddenly sent the room into a slow whirl. His stomach muscles clenched as he fell to his knees and crawled over to the toilet. He leaned over the porcelain bowl as his breath suddenly began to hitch. His knuckles were white as he gripped the brim. Severus shut his eyes in anticipation of what was to come. But again, the wave passed and Severus's entire body relaxed. Where had this nausea come from so suddenly? What had he eaten the night before that was causing him such a misfortune? But as much as Severus felt the need to ponder said misfortune, he knew that he had to put such thoughts out of his head. He had enough on his mind that morning as it was.

Severus forced himself to his feet, dabbed the sweat from his forehead with a towel, and then went back into his bedchamber. The room was still very dark, save for the one small window which gave way to the unrelenting light of the morning sun. Why did it seem that the sun had chosen to rise much too early that day? There were probably hundreds in the castle who would welcome this. But it was nothing more than a nuisance to the ailing Potions master. He really could have used a bit more sleep. Severus dressed at a relatively slow pace as to not further agitate his stomach, choosing to sit on the edge of his bed as he pulled on his robes and buttoned up his frock coat. And it was here that he remained until he felt that his rebellious insides would allow him to carry on with his morning. As he left his bedroom, headed for the sitting room that led to the main door, Severus made a mental note to brew an Anti-nausea Potion if his stomach hadn't settled by nightfall.

~HP~

Albus watched with a smile as his young pupils enjoyed their breakfast, whether it be sluggish from an early rousing or excited to begin this new day. The headmaster's joy was doubled by the quiet, chipper conversations of the teachers around him. To his right, Pomona Sprout was gabbing away with Filius Flitwick as the little wizard stirred a third spoonful of sugar into his tea. To his left, Minerva McGonagall and Remus Lupin were engrossed in a discussion over their morning coffee and a copy of the Daily Prophet. Life looked to be well on the path of returning to the way things should be. In that moment, completely satisfied with where he was, the elderly wizard decided yet again that retirement could wait.

He wasn't fazed when he noticed Severus enter through the side door. However, he was a bit taken aback when he looked up to see the Potions master's sallow face. He was a sickly white and he looked like he hadn't slept in days. Albus followed Severus's black eyes as they traveled up and down the table and came to see that the only available seat was between Minerva and Remus. Severus silently growled, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. He then slowly walked over and sat down. Minerva greeted him with a nod of her head, but Remus turned right to him with bright, amber eyes.

"How are you this morning, Severus?" he asked, reaching for a second helping of scrambled eggs. The overpowering smell threatened to turn Severus's stomach again, causing him to take a breath in hopes of easing it away. "I don't believe that's any of your business," he said, not looking at the werewolf. "What possessed you to think it was, Lupin?"

"It's just courtesy," Remus raised his eyebrows. "When have you ever known me to be rude?"

"When have you ever known me to take joy in your presence?" Severus glared at Remus out of the corner of his eye. His low growl was laced with venom. Why in the name of Merlin did this man feel the need to even attempt to be friendly with him? And why the hell did he have to be so chipper that early?

"Hmm…what's got your wand in a knot?" Remus asked this as his eyebrow twitched up.

Severus snarled as he reached for a few pieces of toast, the only thing that his meager appetite would allow. "I think the question is what hasn't."

"What are you talking about, Severus? It's a lovely day and everyone is in a good mood."

"All horrendously irritating," Severus bit and ripped off a bit of toast. He chewed with aggravated force before swallowing hard. "And you being a morning person does absolutely nothing to brighten my day."

"Well forgive my enthusiasm, Severus," Remus bantered as he carefully buttered his own toast. Severus couldn't help but roll his eyes. "But times are changing for the better. I'm thrilled just to have a job, let alone a job I enjoy."

Severus shook his head. "It's astounding that the Ministry would allow such a mangy mongrel around children. I'm surprised that you're trusted with that baby of yours…oh wait, perhaps you're not." The Potions master raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.

Remus sighed. "I have to make a living to support my son, and that's not easy when you're a single parent. He's better off with his grandmother for now."

"Of course, he is," Severus sneered. "And who knows how the wolf would react to a months-old baby."

"Unless you have been planning on tampering with my Wolfsbane Potion, we shall never know."

Yet again, Remus chuckled in a way that made Severus's skin crawl. His knuckles turned white as his fist clenched on his knee. He felt the vein in his head throbbing with sheer temper and intolerance for this conversation. It only got worse when that tension gave way to a new wave of nausea. Severus had to swallow hard as his mouth began to fill with saliva. He looked to Remus.

"When, Lupin, will you finally understand that I take no joy in you or your light humor?"

"Come now, Severus," Remus said as he poured out a cup of coffee for Severus. "I know that we have had an unpleasant past, and I'm sure that we both have done things we have come to regret. But I think it's time that we left all that behind and start over."

"I never cared for you before, and it's quite possible that I care even less for you now." Severus slowly shook his head before sipping his coffee. He closed his eyes against the harsh taste of bark, feeling the color draining from his face.

"Severus," he heard Albus say from down the table. "Are you alright?" Severus looked up to see that the headmaster's question had gotten Minerva's attention. She set down her teacup as she studied his face.

"Quite so," Severus quickly answered, lying through his teeth.

Remus's smile faded away, his eyes fixed on Severus's face. "Are you sure about that? You look a bit peaky."

"They're right, Severus," Minerva gently felt Severus's forehead with the back of her hand, likely checking for a fever. Severus swatted her hand away, now quite annoyed. He dunked his half-eaten toast into his coffee, forcing himself to take another bite.

"Minerva, I'm alright. Leave me be."

"I trust your word, Severus, but are you absolutely sure?" Albus leaned over the table to look past Minerva. "I wouldn't want you to be teaching when you are not feeling well."

"Your concern touches me," Severus mocked. He stood up, deciding that he needed to return to the quiet of the dungeons. If anything, he needed to get away from Dumbledore. Severus knew all too well that this little concern could quickly become a sick need to mother him, and that was the last thing he needed at the moment. He looked at the headmaster, taking a last bite of toast. "Contrary to what some might believe, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Very well, my dear boy," said Albus, his eyes twinkling with his optimistic smile. "But if there is anything I can do, don't hesitate to let me know."

Severus rolled his eyes as he picked up his cup of coffee. As he turned to leave the Great hall, Remus looked up and said, "Good luck today!" But Severus couldn't be bothered to offer up a reply. Instead, he slowly walked out of the side door, ignoring the curious stares of his fellow teachers.

Severus rubbed at his forehead, already feeling an ache coming on. He took a long sip of his coffee, like that was going to help. It sent shivers down his body, and the taste of bark lingered in his mouth. He felt his innards clenching up. He swallowed hard, wishing that it would rid him of this damn indigestion. The thought of the Sixth year class he would be teaching within the hour did nothing to ease his body or his mind. Now, he just hoped that he felt better by lunchtime. At least then, he could be nasty to people purely for his own bitterness, and he wouldn't have to lie to Dumbledore about his wellbeing.

Could this be the longest day of his life?

~HP~

Harry and Ron were among the first of the Gryffindors to arrive at the Great Hall at lunchtime. While some of their younger counterparts were already a bit tuckered out, the two young men were quite relaxed. With no elective classes to worry about, they now had the rare privilege of long breaks in between classes. Some called it luck, others chalked it up to being lazy, but neither of them could deny that all that extra free time was more than enticing. Besides, it wasn't like it was crucial to take those extra classes. After all, since when was a NEWT in Arithmancy needed to become an Auror?

They had barely gotten into their meals when Hermione floated in, a satisfied smile gracing her face. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Ron's face relaxing. No doubt that his being was swelling with masculine pride. The ginger wizard suddenly disappeared under the table, and then reappeared on the other side as Hermione settled down. He leaned over to retrieve his plate. Harry quickly glanced away as Hermione planted a light peck on Ron's lips. It was then that he noticed Rose walking up to them. She sat down next to him, setting her bag down on the floor.

"Oh, isn't that cute?" she said, noticing the couple across from her. Hermione pulled away from Ron and blushed as she reached for a plate of ham sandwiches.

"Be careful who you joke with, Rose," said Ron, obviously joking himself. "You could get yourself into trouble."

Rose snickered and also picked up a sandwich. "Please, we're allowed to poke fun at friends from time to time."

"Further evidence of suppressed bitchery,"

Rose just waved him off. "I'm a catch. Speaking of bitchery, did you see the way Pansy Parkinson was glaring at Hermione in Charms? Bloody hell, if looks could kill –,"

"I would still be alive!"

Harry couldn't stop himself from spitting out his pumpkin juice, spraying it all across the table. Surrounding students laughed, though whether it was at Harry or Hermione's comment was anyone's guess. Rose, who was laughing in near hysteria, reached into her robes and pulled out her wand. A swish produced a cloth napkin to sop up the offending liquid. Ron and Hermione lifted up their plates and goblets as to not hinder the quick cleanup.

"Hermione, that was brilliant," said Rose. "Did you just make that up?" Hermione couldn't hide her playful smirk as she rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

"No doubt about it now. She's a genius," Harry coughed. He brought forth his own wand and banished the damp napkin after Rose tossed it aside.

For some time, they continued to laugh at Hermione's cheeky remark. But then Rose suddenly turned her head and looked over her shoulder. "Oh crap! You don't think she heard that, do you?" She was looking toward the Slytherin table. She picked out Pansy sitting with Draco Malfoy a way's down, a sour pout etched into her face. Harry also turned to look. "I would say that she looks annoyed, but then again, when has she not looked like that?"

"Oh, I don't know!" Rose sounded bitterly sarcastic. "Perhaps when she's taking joy in our misfortune?"

"Speak for yourself," said Ron.

Rose arched her eyebrow. For a girl with a gentle face, it had a way of making her look as sly as any fox, and her friends found it rather intriguing. "Oh yeah, like you and Harry don't know what that's like," she said. "At least Malfoy looks a bit of a sad-sack lately."

The former Death Eater in question was currently sitting across from Gregory Goyle, Pansy's face glued to his shoulder. At the moment, he seemed to be more interested in his beef stew than whatever conversation they were having. His face was devoid of any recognizable emotion, and his thin lips barely moved when he spoke. Harry couldn't help but smirk. Rose was right; Malfoy did look quite pathetic compared to his former self. And frankly, it was shocking that he was even there to begin with. With his tarnished name and shattered dignity, Hogwarts should have been the last place for him to go willingly. And yet there he was! By that point, Harry had long decided that Draco Malfoy was no longer his problem, and he was more than content to ignore him when possible.

They were still looking at the three Slytherins when Pansy finally noticed them. She shot them an evil little sneer. Seeing this herself, Rose pretended to shudder as they turned back to Ron and Hermione. "Say, did it suddenly get cold in here?"

"Ooh, I have had enough of her attitude," Hermione growled.

Harry cocked his head and said, "A bitch is a bitch, I suppose."

"She's jealous of us."

Rose jumped in her seat as Lavender seemed to appear out of nowhere with Parvati not far behind. She looked up at them from over her shoulder. "That's a bold accusation, Lav. And one that Parkinson wouldn't admit to under an Unforgivable."

"It's probably true, though." Parvati wagged a finger at the red haired witch. Rose wagged her own finger in return. "It doesn't make it any less petty."

"Will you all just quit it?" Neville's voice echoed down from where he sat with Dean and Seamus. "She's not worth it."

It was words of wisdom from the modest Longbottom. The girls rather reluctantly dropped the subject with one last quick glance at the Slytherin table. But before Lavender and Parvati could sit, they caught sight of Hermione and Ron. Lavender's lips seemed to suddenly take on the appearance of a straight line as she tossed locks of blonde hair behind her shoulder. Rose got her attention by snapping her fingers. When Lavender looked down at her, she pointed down the table, silently reminding her friend that it was best that the girls kept their distance. Lavender seemed to get the message and led Parvati away, settling down at a comfortable distance to listen in on their housemates.

"So Rose, what did you think of that Professor Wicker?" Hermione asked.

"I like her," said Rose, picking at her chips. "She's a nice lady, and she seems to be a good teacher."

"You say that like Muggle Studies is a difficult class," Harry teased. He knew that Muggle Studies had been Rose's best and favorite class for nearly her entire school career.

"Well Potter, it can be to the generally thick and chronically ignorant." Rose subtly motioned to Goyle, and Harry briefly thought that she was looking out of the corner of her blue eye at one Seamus Finnigan.

Hermione softly cleared her throat. "She doesn't follow the same teaching style as Professor Burbage, does she?"

Rose frowned. "No, not really. Then again, Professor Burbage will not be easily replaced."

Hermione offered an apologetic and reverent pause in honor of the murdered teacher. Harry and Ron also chose not to speak. Charity Burbage left behind many loved ones, and Rose was counted among the students she befriended and inspired. The woman helped put Rose on a path to a career, and out of the respect for the mentoring friendship, they all thought that it was wise to not openly speak of it in her presence.

Rose shook her head, almost like she was shaking off the conversation.

"Yes, well, she will be missed," she said. "Life goes on."

"Say Rose," Dean leaned in over the table to look at her. "I've been meaning to ask you. What goes on in NEWT level Muggle Studies? I mean, you're the only one of us left in the class. Enlighten us a bit."

Rose shrugged; she was getting a bit bored with satisfying the curiosities of her fellow Gryffindors about the oh-so-mysterious world of Hogwarts' cupcake class. "If I knew for sure, I would tell you. I have heard a few rumors about driving and firearms, but I don't believe any of it."

"Yeah, like they'd want to take the risk of Peeves getting a hold of a gun," Dean laughed as he reached for a handful of chips.

Rose raised her eyebrows with an amused smile. "Oh shit, I didn't even think of that."

"Why? What could happen?" asked Neville. Rose, along with Harry, Hermione, and Dean, turned to him. The same horrible image had seemed to flash through their minds at the same time. "You don't want to know," they warned together.

"It still seems like a waste of bloody time to me," said Ron, referring to Muggle Studies.

"Well, maybe if you can just muster up enough Muggle sensitivity, then perhaps you would think differently." It occurred to Rose that that might have been the wrong thing to say when she saw a certain look of utter irritation in Hermione's eyes. Suddenly feeling the burn of a protective girlfriend, she tried to defuse the situation before her brilliant friend could add her opinion. "You know, my mum thinks that it's such a bizarre class. She can't seem to stop herself from asking me why I keep taking it year after year."

"Well, she's a Muggle. Of course she would think that," Harry added before he chomped down on his sandwich.

The conversation turned to relative small talk, interrupted by sparse eating. Harry was made to endure an onslaught of inquiries as to when the Quidditch try-outs would be; everything from people shouting above the hum of voices to little notes travelling down the table to his plate. The number of times he repeated his answer of I-don't-know-yet was rather absurd. Much to Hermione's annoyance, Rose got caught up in gossip with Lavender and Parvati as she flipped through her regular copy of Witch Weekly. Quill in hand, she marked off an item here or there in the shopping section (all magnificent, but much too expensive) as she listened to Lavender's high voice go on about her growing interest in Justin Finch-Fletchly.

"He is just the perfect gentleman," she smiled. "I mean, he opens doors for me, and did you see him carry my books to Charms for me?"

"Mm-hmm," Rose nodded as she drew a star next to a picture of a charming green jacket.

"Do you think that means something?" Lavender's eyes lit up as she leaned her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands.

"It seems to me that he fancies you, Lavender. You don't need me to tell you that."

"Or me," Parvati added with a certain shake of her head. Rose noticed Hermione roll her eyes and struggled to hold in her laughter. Lavender continued to giggle to herself, prompting Hermione to mime a retch. But before Rose could try to stop the foolishness, Lavender stood up and gathered her things. She explained to the girls that Justin had promised to meet her in the courtyard after lunch, and then bid them goodbye. She dashed off through the doors.

"I stand by what I said yesterday, those two will be snogging within a month," said Rose, making the others laugh.

"Hey, does anyone remember what we've got next class?" Ron asked, having not memorized his schedule and apparently too lazy to pull it out of his bag. Seamus yanked his timetable out of his trouser pocket and looked down the crumpled parchment. His face fell.

"Oh hell, we've all got Potions next," he groaned. Quite a few joined him, Hermione nearly scowling at their attitude. Harry thought it was wise to keep his own opinions to himself in favor of preventing another talking-to. Beside him, Rose simply went back to picking out clothes she wished she could have. Beside her, Neville was shaking his head.

"It isn't fair. I get accepted to the Auror training program, I decide to take Potions again to get ahead, and then I find out that Snape's teaching it again. It just isn't fair!"

"Aw Neville, you can't still be afraid of him," Harry teased.

"Shut up, Harry. You saw him last night. He didn't look any less intimidating."

"Won't know for sure until you get there, will you?" suggested Hermione.

"I don't know, Hermione," said Seamus "I've been asking around and it doesn't sound too good."

"What do you mean?" asked Rose, nibbling on a ketchup-covered chip.

"Word around the school is that Snape is far worse than he was before." Seamus stopped to practically inhale half a sausage and chewed rapidly. "I heard he took fifteen points from some Ravenclaw just for sneezing during his lecture. And look how much Hufflepuff has lost already."

A quick look at the four house hourglasses showed that half of all the amber stones of Hufflepuff had gone since that morning. Harry suddenly found himself with a slight sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Oh please, that can't all be from him," said Rose, prompting a nod from Hermione.

"Are you talking about Professor Snape?" Luna had suddenly appeared behind Neville and Rose. Rose looked up with wrinkled eyebrows while Neville smiled. Luna leaned down and gave him a little kiss before setting down next to him. Harry noticed that Rose did not look very amused to be squashed between him and Neville, so he courteously shifted down the bench, giving her room to breathe.

"Oh Luna, you already had Snape this morning," said Hermione, reaching for her goblet of pumpkin juice. She took a meager sip. "What happened in your class?"

"Ah yes, Professor Snape was quite grumpy this morning." Luna's bright eyes fell to the tabletop. "Rather unfortunate actually. The lesson was quite intriguing, but he seemed to spend half his time making sure that we all stayed in line. I wonder what could have Snape so irritated so early in the day."

"I could name a few things," said Ron through a mouthful of ham. He almost snickered when he suddenly got a hard jab in the arm. He looked at Hermione, who was looking rather satisfied with herself. Both Harry and Rose tried and failed to keep their laughter muffled.

"Ron, do yourself a favor and shut your mouth," Rose suggested as she closed her magazine and put it away.

~HP~

Severus sat behind his desk in his office, watching the clock with intent as it approached the two o'clock hour. With every minute that ticked by, he could feel an immense tension building up in his head. He ran his fingers through his greasy, black hair as he cradled his head in his hands.

The Potions master groaned when the pain and aching in his head receded. Though that morning's indigestion had faded away, Severus certainly didn't feel any better. If this stress headache wasn't bad enough, it was made so much worse by Severus's sheer exhaustion. It was as though he had not gotten a wink of sleep the night before. And when he remembered that he had two more classes ahead of him, Severus could only imagine how tired he would be by the time he stumbled to bed. The thought of collapsing to the floor raced through his mind.

Naturally, his discomfort had caused Severus's mood to take a turn for the worst. His little spat with Lupin had only been the first of many that day. The rapid, almost comical loss of house points was largely his doing, but Severus had a justifiable reason for every last one. He had been attempting to work on a poor night's sleep and an upset stomach. He felt awful enough without the children there. So every time a student stepped out of line, even in the slightest, it was enough to spike his agitation and send him over the edge. They could call it outlandish all they wanted, it didn't matter. The only person Severus could give a flying fuck about was himself.

Outside in the hallway, Severus could already hear the voices of what surely was his combined class of Seventh years. No doubt that they were gossiping about him and the horror stories they had been hearing. The mere thought made his head pound, causing him to massage his temples. To say that he wasn't looking forward to this class would be a ridiculous understatement. After all, not only was he to be trapped in a room with Potter and the rest of his Dream Team, but he was also going to be forced to teach a great number of students who definitely did not deserve to be there. He had taken a quick look at the roster while at lunch and was appalled. Longbottom? Finnigan? Had Minerva completely lost her mind to actually allow these poor simpletons into his most advanced class, and for no better reason than the politics of it all? It was a catastrophe in the making! And when it came to the Seventh years, as Severus had come to learn over time, they all eventually became one of only two things. They were either overly ambitious, or criminally lazy. Severus's eyes travelled down the accursed roster again, already expecting one or the other out of every single one of the brats. He could have wagered the deed to his house on the probability of Potter or Weasley succumbing to so-called "Seventh Syndrome."

Severus let out a low growl as the bell rang. He pushed himself up out of his chair and slowly walked out into his classroom. He pushed open the door with a scowl. The noise died down as the entire queue turned to him. In those twenty sets of eyes, Severus could see everything from nerves, to loathing, to indifference. He motioned for them to come inside. He then stalked up to the front of the room and took his place behind his desk.

The students began to file in and Snape watched as they chose their seats. Potter and Weasley were sitting together in the middle of the room, like that was a huge surprise. To their right, Granger was sitting with the Beckett girl. Snape noticed that Draco Malfoy had taken a seat at the far end of the room. He looked at the boy and greeted him with a quick nod. Draco did the same with what could have been taken as a half-ass smile. The blonde's short attention was then drawn away as Pansy Parkinson sat next to him, reaching for his hand underneath the desk.

Once they had all taken their seats, Severus looked out on his oldest crop of students with a menacing glare. Just looking at them increased the pain in his head; Potter especially was probably doing a number on his blood pressure. He felt the vein in his temple throbbing again. He waited a few moments before he finally began speaking.

"So here we are… gathered together again for, of all bloody classes, Advanced Potions. If any of you had taken the headmaster's speech to heart last night, you would all be grateful to even be down here. And yet I'm quite sure that to a fair few of you, that could not be any more false. It is my understanding that not one of you is particularly enthused to be here this afternoon." His black eyes drifted over every young face, watching their eyes nervously shift from side to side. "And I doubt that you were any more thrilled when you heard that it was to be me standing before you. Make no mistake; I am no happier to be in your retched presence. I would much rather be subjected to medieval Muggle torture than be forced to interact with the likes of you." He stared down at Potter, who shot him a dirty look in return.

"But in any case, chances are that you all enrolled for the same reason. You enrolled to further your education, broaden your skills, and give yourselves an advantage in the working world. We could spend the term taking shots at each other, though I assure you that would be a grave mistake on your part. I hope that you also realize that doing so would get you absolutely nowhere. You would be defeating your purposes, whatever they might be. I'm sure you like to think of yourselves as adults, so here's a little tip for that. If you truly are adults, then you must accept the horrible truth that you must do what you must do, without pitiful excuses. Now if I could just believe that any of you could follow through with this bit of maturity. I couldn't even dream of a wonder like that."

Snape came around his desk and began to slowly pace up and down the rows of desks. "Now, the decision to enroll in this class should not have been taken lightly. This being the final year of your education, I trust you know that the potions you will brew in this class will be the most complex of anything you have come across before in your lives." He saw that Granger was fidgeting in her seat. He then noticed how Potter and Weasley seemed to be purposely avoiding eye contact. He suppressed the urge to publically accuse them of illegally brewing the Polyjuice Potion in the past. "Successfully passing this class would ensure that you would be able to brew just about anything you could possibly need in your day to day lives. But it would take an exceptional idiot to not know that in order to achieve this, you need to have dedication and skill. And I'm sorry to say that a rather alarming number of you possess no such talent."

His glare fell on Neville Longbottom. Almost instantly, the color seemed to drain from the boy's face. Snape just couldn't resist; he stalked closer to him "It is truly disappointing that the lot of you were allowed to return to my Potions class. Believe me when I say that if I had things my way, if these postwar, victory-induced politics hadn't gotten in the way, more than half of you would be gone." He stopped right next to Longbottom, leaning closer with every snarling word, forcing the nervous Gryffindor to retreat further back into his seat. "No doubt that you entered my class thinking that it was for your own good. But in doing so, you severely underestimate your own abilities. You think you've done a good thing, but all you will have done is make a mockery of the art of potion making. Even now, I look at your faces and see nothing more than a clumsy, incompetent waste of my time!"

His barking comment was followed by a sudden crash. Longbottom had fallen backwards out of his chair and hit the cold dungeon floor, having failed to grasp the desk in time. Snape backed away, letting the whelp get up. The rest of the class was trying to stop their impulsive laughter, some hiding their smirks and giggles behind their hands. "Silence…" Snape growled as Longbottom sat back down. He glanced around the room, making sure that every last student was quiet. His glare fell on three way too familiar faces. The tension in his head began to rise again, pain radiating through his skull.

"And then there are those who have skill, but let their egos get in the way." He came to a stop in the aisle that separated Weasley from his overachieving girlfriend. Snape looked at the two girls who looked up at him with frozen expression. He noticed Rose Beckett quickly swallow. "I cannot deny that some of you seem to have half a brain cell for the subject. You brew what you are told to with no real trouble, giving you the right to brag to your unfortunate classmates. But mark my words; your pride just might be your downfall."

He turned his head to stare down at the Boy-who-lived. He felt an agonizing heat building up in his chest at the sight of those emerald eyes. "Nothing is more vile than a second rate brat who revels in miniscule glory. I don't care how wonderful you think you are; there is a very fine line between dignity and arrogance. And one thing I will not tolerate is arrogance. Such useless confidence has not gotten you anywhere before, and it never will. Consider that a fair warning, all of you!"

Snape turned around and walked back up to the front of the room, ignoring Potter's obvious desire to snap at him. He turned back to face the rest of the class. "Now, let it be known that I will only say this once. In recent weeks, you all have come to find out certain information about me. I know what has been said about me, and I am more than aware of your varying opinions. But in this room, none of that has any relevance. My experiences are, and will stay a personal matter, and no amount of postwar merriment can affect me in any way that concerns you. No matter who you are, I am not, nor have I ever been your friend. I have always treated my students as they deserved, and the same holds true today. And if any of you come to me wanting to know the truth behind The Prophet's stories, it will merely be a pointless act of poor judgment. You will find that you will have only wasted time and house points. If you want a war story, your man is right there." He pointed at Potter, turning all eyes on him. The boy ran his hand over his messy hair, as though he wanted to flatten it over his glasses, further obscuring his green eyes.

The Potions master stood before his class in silence. His head was pounding once again, and he almost struggled to breathe past the tension and burning in his chest. He felt worse now than he did before the class started. It was as though Snape was a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at the first foolish cheek. And for his own sake, Snape hoped that Potter had enough sense to stay good and quiet. He took a moment to try to calm himself down before he turned to the board.

"Very well, let us now get to what you are actually here for. If you would open your books to page –,"

*Cough, cough*

That did it; Snape whipped around with a fierce snarl. "Five points from Gryffindor, Mister Thomas, for interrupting my lesson!"

"Sir, he just –,"

"Ten points, Miss Patil!"

"But Professor Snape –,"

"Would you like to make it twenty points, Miss Granger?"

The girl shrank back. "No sir," she said quietly.

"Then shut up and turn to page two hundred and thirty nine."

The room was filled with the sound of violently turning pages when Snape heard the Slytherins giggling in the corner. He turned to them with the same aggression. "That goes for you too!" A couple of them jumped in their seats before they too opened their books.

~HP~

Harry and his friends were among the first to leave the dungeon classroom, leading the way to the stairway up to the ground floor. Skin and robes dampened with sweat, they were all more than a bit eager to get back up to the fresh air. After being put in their places so sternly, they spent the remainder of the class brewing the Invigoration Draught. Some of their attempts ended in failure, though many managed to scrape by, Harry and Ron included. Hermione, of course, had produced a perfect potion with Rose not that far behind. In fact, the girls had finished a good fifteen minutes ahead of everyone else.

Snape's attitude had not improved as the class went on. It seemed he had indeed returned to his cruel, sarcastic ways after all. Not only that, he had gotten worse! In one hour, he had personally insulted a fair number of people, and all four houses had lost points. Even Slytherin had lost ten points when Goyle burned a hole through the bottom of his cauldron.

They were barely out of the Potions room when Ron sighed loudly as he walked hand in hand with Hermione. He wiped perspiration from his forehead. "Merlin, what was that?"

"That, my friend, was possibly one of the most rigid Potions lessons we've sat through." Harry shook his head with wide eyes.

"No kidding!" said Rose as she passed Harry. "I thought Neville had stopped breathing for a moment there, like Snape was going to take five points for an exhale during an instruction."

"I can't believe he took away points just because Dean coughed," Hermione pouted. "Ridiculous! I mean, who would have thought that Seamus was right? Luna maybe, but not Seamus."

"Sometimes things like that are too stupid to make up," Rose suggested. "And besides, no one could have predicted Snape being that bad. Really, taking points for something as uncontrollable as a cough!"

"Maybe we just saw Snape at his lowest," said Ron.

"Oh, I'd beg to differ!" Harry sighed.

Seamus and Dean came up behind the little group. "So, he's a changed man, is he?" the Irishman said to Hermione as he passed by.

Hermione groaned. "Alright, perhaps I was wrong." She swiped a hand through the air as her classmates dashed down the hall.

"Perhaps?" Ron laughed, pulling her in closer to his body.

"Alright, alright!" Hermione barked out for everyone to hear so she wouldn't be made to repeat herself. "I was wrong and you were right. Are you happy now?"

Ron wrinkled his eyebrows. "I don't know, is there a right answer to that question?"

"Well either way, we're still screwed," Harry rolled his eyes to the ceiling as he nodded in Rose's direction. The ginger witch smiled and shrugged in agreement. "Ah Harry," she said. "Now comes the part when we all buck up, bite our tongues, and deal with it."

"I can do that," said Harry. "But if you ask me, Snape should buck up and pull that stick out of his arse."

"Yeah mate," Ron agreed. "If he keeps at it like that, nobody will have a chance at the House Cup."

"Oh Ron, don't be silly," Hermione playfully scolded.

"I'm with her on that one, Weasley," said Rose.

"Harry, what is it about women that makes them agree about everything?" The little group laughed among themselves as they climbed the steps up to the ground floor.

~HP~

I hope you enjoyed this new chapter, and reviews are always welcome. Reviews are good, very good indeed!