"Miss Granger. Hermione."

Hermione winced as sunlight speared her eyes. Someone had pulled the curtains. McGonagall?

"Hermione. I know it's early, but this is no morning to sleep in."

Hermione sat up, grateful she'd at least managed to put a robe on before crashing for the night. Still, sleep had been elusive. Wicked Snape. "What's going on?" It was rare for Professor McGonagall to come to her quarters personally, unless it was on urgent business with the Head Girl.

"It's going to be chaos!" Minerva sighed. "Quick, quick. Get dressed. We'll eat here, I'll fill you in."

Hermione slipped out of bed, tucking the buttons a little deeper under her pillow on her way. Was there anything out of place? She scanned on her way to the closet, tucking her bra under one of the fallen blankets. She was going to kill Draco. At least McGonagall was on the other side of the room, and the uncharacteristic mess did hide the evidence effectively. She grabbed a fresh set of clothes and disappeared into the bathroom.

"Breakfast." McGonagall announced when she returned, gesturing to two trays she had set up on the low table. "Did you have company last night?"

Hermione flushed, then calmed. McGonagall didn't mean that kind of company. [Even if it would have been a better guess]. The abandoned tea cups had obviously caught her eye.

"Oh, yes. Draco came by for a talk." Hermione sat down and covered the awkward moment by taking an overly large bite of eggs.

"Draco?" McGonagall looked shocked. "I wouldn't have guessed he took his prefect duties so seriously."

"First time he's stopped in, but the issue was sensitive." Hermione wasn't sure why she was covering for the prat, but talk about Draco might lead to talk about Snape. "He's got it handled."

"Well, never mind him." McGonagall waved. "Dumbledore's gone mad. More mad than usual. He wants to host the Council Recognizing Illustrious Wizards here, at Hogwarts! In two weeks!"

"Here?!" Hermione squeaked. "How ever did he get permission?" C.R.I.W. was like the Olympics; rare, festive, and spectacular. You couldn't just 'decide' to have it at your house.

"It turns out they were going to cancel this year." Minerva fanned herself, "due to the problem of securing a large enough area against possible attack. Hogwarts, however, is already safe. But why the Headmaster would offer, I don't know. Two weeks isn't enough time to prepare!"

Hermione nodded. "It's not just the guests we have to see to, but the details of the ceremony itself."

"And the students!" McGonagall slid her a parchment. "The students will be preparing displays and competing amongst each other as well."

"This is detailed." Hermione turned the parchment sideways, examining the three feet of in depth but hastily scrolled notes and sketches. "It's like a school exhibition."

"That's what I said to him." McGonagall sniffed. "I don't know where he gets these schemes."

"But you have to admit it's exciting!" Hermione said, slathering a hefty amount of jam onto her toast, "Just think of all the famous wizards and witches we will get to meet, the Who's Who list come alive!"

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and counted inwardly to three. That crazy old man had really gone and done it this time. Every teacher had been given a set of 'instructions' for the next two weeks, which boiled down to chaos.

~I think it's great adventure.~ Richard offered. ~Let the children be creative.~

"As if I care what you think about it." Snape grumbled. The class was used to him muttering to himself, anyway. "Exploding cauldrons, stinking labs, laughter, giddiness, running in the halls, gossip; sure; independent projects are great fun."

~Speaking of exploding cauldrons, you might want to check on the Neville boy."

Snape stalked over to the bubbling mess, waving it away before the boy could protest. "Why are you even here?" He sneered. "Do you understand the meaning of the term 'independent project'?"

"I just thought I'd try -" Neville stammered.

"You cannot possibly think that potions is your best skill." Snape shooed him out, "Go bother Mrs. Sprout and Stop distracting the serious students." He turned on the class. "Do you understand that?" He glared at each of them in turn. "None of you have to be here." He glowered and began writing out a complicated recipe on the board. He heard the scraping of chairs and the packing of supplies behind him.

Idiots; they only just now realized they were free agents? Dumbledore had explained to the students at breakfast that they could choose anything for their independent project, and could move freely among the classrooms, labs, and library until CRIW.

When he turned back, only a handful of students remained. Nerissa Brody, Daphne Greengrass, and a few other Slytherins that were decent at potions; that made enough sense, they would probably prefer a familiar environment and the coaching of their head of house on a project like this; a couple Gryffindors including Hermione, they either were being brave or being stupid; and a Ravenclaw, Anthony Goldstein, whose potion's work he had been keeping an eye on.

Seven students. He could manage that, but more might trickle in later. It was best to lay down the rules now.

"As coach for your independent projects," Snape offered silkily, "I will provide insight, resources, and aid." He paused until the students looked sufficiently confused at his benevolence, "However, I will accept no half-hearted commitment. If you choose to work in potions, then you will work. In return, I promise to guide you with a firm hand." He directed the last line at Hermione, daring her to blush. She didn't, though her mouth twitched. He pointed to the recipe he had written out. He had chosen a decently complex apprentice level potion with some variations from standard form; daunting, but nothing a focused seventh year shouldn't be able to handle. "First, you have one hour to study and brew the Draught of Crying Moonlight. If I am satisfied, you may stay."

Several of the students cried in dismay. Nerissa Brody started grabbing her things to leave for an easier class. Hermione, Greengrass, and Goldstein got strait to work.

Snape returned to his desk, satisfied. Perhaps two weeks tutoring reasonable competent students would be better than classes full of chaos and spills and laughter.