A/N: Okay, this is the other HGSS fic I said I had twiddling about in my head. You're probably wondering: WHAT'S WITH THE TITLE? Haha, there isn't one at this point. I have some ideas for what it should be called, but I'd like to see what you reviewers could come up with! (It might prove amusing, for me at least.)

Disclaimer: I suppose I should admit to several attempts to steal JK Rowling's outline notes, and her ingenious mind, but I have failed miserably. So I try the best I can with what I've got.

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I hate this school, Severus Snape muttered under his breath. Every year, more and more idiotic students enter through those doors; it gets worse as each year goes by. Snape was, obviously, in a bad mood, but when wasn't he? It was bad enough with his older students to deal with as well as little wimpy first years. But he knew that he liked teaching Potions, even though he'd much rather prefer Defense Against the Dark Arts, he liked the art of potion-making better than most people thought. He was actually quite phenomenal. This reference to his talent caused a smirk to creep onto his features. Like any other dunderhead in the school would be as good as him. Students always wasted their talents in Potions. He had seen many a student fritter away their gifts in potion making. The whole concept of teaching students an art that ninety percent of them would ignore and never use… Well, it was enough to keep his relations with students very bitter and professional.

Severus was not looking forward to this year in particular. No matter how hard he tried, Longbottom (god forbid), Potter, Weasley, and many others had been eligible to take his NEWT Potions class, based on Dumbledore's convenient alteration to the OWLs the year before, allowing students who received an 'A' for acceptable, to be in the class. He had thought for sure that Longbottom would fail the OWLs in fifth year, but low and behold, he still managed to pass them, even without the help of Hermione Granger. Miss Granger. Now that was another story entirely, and one he really did not want to think about. With any luck, this year would be the same as the last, and the year before that, and the year before that. This was the last year he'd have to put up with her. That know-it-all Muggleborn, (he refrained from using the disgusting term, he would leave that to the miscreant of Lucius Malfoy). She'd come in, already having the entire text memorized and absorbed, the only hand raised to answer his questions, the only one, it seemed, to receive top-marks in Gryffindor. Sure, there were other brilliant minds, but none as exercised as Miss Granger's. Snape mentally shook his head, why am I thinking about Miss Granger? That should be the last thing on my mind, or, even better, not in my mind at all! He sighed, rose from his desk, looking sulkily at the clock on the wall. It was time to go up (he was in the dungeons, of course) to the Great Hall to welcome the pathetic first years and the annoying other years returning for their "Welcome feast." If an unfortunate person had been in the room with him, he would have spat at them, even though it was quite unlikely he would do such a thing. Anything involving Dumbledore made him sick. Besides, just because the old geezer gave me this job doesn't mean I have to like him. And with that, he swept out of the dungeon. Snape style.

As Snape made his way to the Staff table, past the soon-to-be-filled-with-loud-annoying-students house tables, Professor McGonagall greeted him, and he would rather she didn't.

"Ah, good afternoon, Severus. I'm sure you have prepared yourself for the upcoming year." God did he hate her nasal voice coupled with a constant pity of him.

"More than you know," Snape snapped, and sat down dutifully, displaying his intense dislike of their conversation. She didn't take the hint.

"Oh, Severus, do be a little more cheerful," McGonagall replied, not shaken by him, as always.

"I hate the word as I hate hell, all Gryffindors, and you," he snarled, and turned to stare straight ahead, pleased at the horrified look on her face that he could see through his peripheral vision. Good, now she will leave me alone, at least temporarily.

Before Snape knew it, no matter how much he willed time to slow, all the students excluding the first years had entered and taken their seats, filling the hall with their loud and excited voices. Snape pursed his lips in disgust. At any rate, Voldemort or his followers would kill a third or more of every house, for a third or more of each house was taken up by Muggleborns and Halfbloods. Of course, not very many ever leaked into Slytherin, but there were the scant few that seeped into the woodwork, but they paid for it dearly their entire way though Hogwarts. This caused him to smirk again. The Slytherins, of which he was babying and coddling, much to the dislike of all the other houses, was quite intentional. Why make the House strong? Voldemort will not want pathetic Slytherins who couldn't even tie their own shoes to join his ranks, even if they were Pureblood. His plan was to significantly decrease the amount of students that would grow up only to throw their lives away to serve the Dark Lord. But why on earth would Professor Snape want to protect the Slytherins, or more correctly, cripple them? This bloody war will be over much quicker, he confirmed to himself. And he didn't want his entire House to become Death Eaters, even though now the House's infamous tradition of joining the Dark Lord had resurfaced in the minds of the students. They would be too weak and stupid to be of any use to Voldemort, he would make sure of that.

"When I call out your name, you will come forward and put on the Sorting Hat to be sorted into your houses." McGonagall's voice jerked Snape back to reality. His train of thought must have distracted him, for he missed Dumbledore's speech and the Sorting Hat's song. Good riddance anyway. His obsidian eyes traveled over the considerable bunch of new first years, laughing inwardly at their terrified faces. I'll have fun with them, he thought wickedly. Maybe this year wouldn't be as bad as he expected.

"Adler, Gregory!" A small brown haired boy stepped forward and was the first to be sorted.

"Hufflepuff!" The Hat shouted after a few seconds. The Hufflepuff table cheered to welcome their new member, and Snape sank lower in his chair, an overwhelming feeling of dread coming over him. And here we sit, admitting these feeble little mixed bloods. No matter how stubborn he was about the superiority of Purebloods, him being one himself, he had to admit that the wizarding line of Great Britain would have died out by now. Many had let down their pride and dignity (in his opinion) and had married Muggles and Muggleborns, something he'd never dream or even fathom about doing. Better them than me.

Throughout the entire Sorting, only about seven students were accepted into Slytherin. Almost every single student in Slytherin was related, due to the inbreeding of the families, their goal at keeping impure blood out of the line of Slytherin. The concept was quite repulsive, but it was the only way that Slytherins survived. As long as a son and daughter of two families, whether they were full or second or third cousins, married, and had as many children as possible, preferably boys, it was fine. The thought made him sigh in contempt. He hated what Slytherin had become, but he was not going to show this outwardly.

Finally the Sorting was over, and the food appeared, and everyone 'dug in'. Snape ate his food as quickly as possible and exited the Great Hall without too much of a scene with Dumbledore, who was talking to the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?! He realized that he had completely missed the introduction of the new teacher, and he hadn't looked to the right or left of him through the entire process of the Welcoming Feast, that he hadn't even seen who it was. Last year's had been unsuited for the job, and had quit the minute the school year was over. Then he thought, maybe I don't want to know who it is, and retired to his quarters to begin more preparing for tomorrow, the first day of classes.

"What classes do we have tomorrow, 'Mione?" Ron asked impatiently, looking over her shoulder.

"You've got your own schedule, Ron!" Hermione replied irritably.

'Well, yeah. But we got into some NEWT classes together, and we want to know what classes we'll have with you, since you take so many bloody subjects!" Ron shot back.

"I dropped Astronomy and Muggle Studies, Ron! I only have two more subjects than you, Ancient Runes and Arithmancy!" She snapped back just as quickly. Hermione sighed, would they ever stop quarreling?

"Hey, you guys, relax, okay. You don't need to argue on the first day!" Harry to the rescue, as always.

"Thank you, Harry. Ron is the one who insists on provoking these arguments," Hermione said sweetly, sending Ron a mocking glare behind Harry's back, who sat between them: bad decision on his part. Ron's ears were bright red, but he couldn't help but smile at her. Hermione started, wondering what Ron really thought of her after all these years. They were older now, seventh years, and Ron had still not gotten over fourth year when she had decked herself out and had gone to the Yule Ball with Victor Krum. Ever since then, he had been extremely accusatory and protective. She hoped that he would absorb some sense this year and find another girl to entertain his thoughts, for from his actions, she seemed to be the one on his mind. She smiled sadly. Maybe one, two years ago, if he had asked her out, she probably would have said yes, with her having a tiny crush on him, and Harry, for that matter, since third year. But if your best friends were boys, what girl wouldn't have a crush on one of them at some point? But they were her friends, and Harry only loved her as a best friend, something she believed Ron should follow suit in. Oh well. It was still hard. Krum had been her first and only 'relationship'. She could tell by his letters though that he wasn't infatuated with her anymore, but they still kept in touch. Hermione still was sad about not having anyone, though.

"Why do we have to have Snape for double Potions first on the first day of school?" Ron complained loudly.

"I don't know, some type of torture, I suppose," Harry replied resignedly. Nothing made Harry extremely excited or happy anymore, not since fifth year, and the Department of Mysteries, and Sirius's death.

"Well, we've survived before. No difference this year," Hermione added hopefully. Ron looked at her like she was on fire.

"Mione! The greasy git could fail us and we wouldn't graduate!" Ron replied angrily.

"Would you stop with the name-calling of Professor Snape? It's not his fault you mess up your potions!" said Hermione, interjecting.

"Come on, Hermione! You cannot be possibly defending that bastard," Harry interrupted, shocked. Hermione suddenly realized what she'd done. How could she have conceived defending Snape, who terrorized everyone with every chance he got, including her? She must've eaten something weird earlier that didn't agree with her. She obviously wasn't thinking clearly.

"Let's go up to the common room, and enjoy what little free time we'll have," Harry said tiredly, and they followed him up to the Gryffindor Common Room.

Ron immediately fished out a chessboard and began to play Wizard's chess with Harry. Harry didn't seem in the mood though, Ron was beating the tar out of him, and he didn't seem to notice. Hermione sat on the couch reading their NEWT Transfiguration book. Everyone else had long retired, leaving them traditionally, the last ones in the common room. Suddenly Harry had this strange gleam in his eye, and he started laughing out loud. Hermione and Ron were completely taken aback: Harry hadn't laughed that easily and freely since before the Department of Mysteries.

"I don't care if Voldemort is terrorizing everyone and in full force," he began, and from old habit, Ron and Hermione cringed. "I am going to have some fun this year, and no one can stop me," he finished determinedly.

"What do you have in mind, Harry?" Hermione asked, slightly wary, while Ron looked eager to hear what Harry had planned.

"We should have a Daring Challenge," he announced.

"A daring challenge?" Ron asked, confused. Hermione only grew more wary, anything sounding like that would mean breaking rules, and even though she'd broken plenty right along with Harry and Ron, she really thought they were over that. Guess not.

"Yes. We think of dares for each other throughout the rest of the year, and if the one dared fails or refuses to do it, they have to buy the others butter beers and candy at the next Hogsmeade trip, and they do the other's homework for a day."

"Sounds, fair," Hermione said, putting down her book. He had her attention; this could actually be fun, and might make Harry happier. Of course, the whole homework thing was pointless anyway; she practically did their homework for them all the time.

"What do you guys think?" Harry said, looking at his two best friends.

"I think its bloody brilliant," Ron said enthusiastically. Hermione nodded her agreement. Anything to get Harry's mind off of Voldemort and the fear of dying was okay in her book. She could suffer through a couple for that.

"So, who wants to take the first dare?" Harry said mysteriously. None of them volunteered, obviously.

"I have a Knut, let's flip for it," Ron said, drawing out the bronze little coin. "You guys go first, the winner flips the coin with me." Ron took the Knut and Hermione sat across from Harry. "What do you pick, Harry?"

"Heads," Harry said.

"Okay, here it goes." And Ron flipped the coin.

"Tails," he announced.

"Damn," Hermione muttered, and Ron and Harry looked at her funny for a second, and then Ron picked tails, and flipped the coin.

"Heads," he said triumphantly. "Hermione, you get the first dare," Ron said wickedly, causing Hermione to throw a cushion at his head.

"Fine, whatever. What is it, then?" Great. Just my luck.

"Ron and I have to think of it first, dummy," Harry laughed again, causing Ron and Hermione to smile, both glad that Harry was looking better, joking around more. He'd been so uptight and serious last year, it was a relief.

"Okay, well, I'm going to bed. I'll leave you two to your plotting," Hermione yawned, and climbed up the stairs to go to bed, leaving the boys to discuss conspiratorially about their dare for her. It won't be so bad, she told herself as she got in bed and fell asleep almost immediately.

Boy, was she wrong.

"Hermione, over here," Ron whisper-yelled, beckoning her over to sit with them. They had arrived early for Potions on purpose, Snape and the other Gryffindors and Slytherins hadn't shown up yet.

"Okay, what torture do you have in store for me," Hermione joked. But when she saw the looks on their faces, her confidence faded.

"Your first dare…" Harry trailed off mischievously.

"Is to handcuff yourself to Professor Snape!" Ron finished.

"What?" Hermione managed to squeak. Ron withdrew a pair of handcuffs, like the ones used for criminals in the Muggle World.

"Fred and George gave them to me. Said they got them off someone else and thought it would be cool to give a Muggle thing to me," Ron said. "All you have to do is spill something close to the end of class, clean it up, and then when everyone's gone, handcuff yourself to Snape."

"And how will I do that?" She rasped, her mouth dry with fear. Oh shit.

"I dunno. We only came up with the dare," Harry grinned.

"You sneaky little bastards, I'll get you for this," Hermione hissed, glaring at them, her fear replaced with anger.

"Jeez, Mione, just a dare. You just take it off after a few seconds, apologize profusely, then run out before he can give you detention," Ron said.

"Like I'll be that lucky," she muttered under her breath. Snape suddenly burst into the room, causing Ron to shove the handcuffs quickly towards her, and she stuffed it in her pocket, dreading with all her heart at what she was about to do.

Potions went on reasonably well. Snape had them work alone on their potions, saying they should learn to not depend on others, and pointedly looked at Neville when saying this, who blushed bright pink. Hermione finished hers correctly, as always, and looked behind her to see how Harry and Ron were faring. Their potions were the same off grey as hers. Good for them. Abruptly turning his head towards her, Ron nodded to her, signaling that now would be the best time to spill something. She groaned and looked at the supplies in front of her. What could she spill?

"Class, please bottle your potions and leave them at my desk," Snape barked. Hermione hastily bottled and labeled her potion and put it on his desk and rushed to her desk to clean up. All of a sudden, she heard a shattering of breaking glass. Everyone turned to look at Hermione, who had completely on accident, knocked over a vial of dragon's blood, the green silvery liquid spilling over the table and pooling on the ground.

"Miss Granger! Ten points from Gryffindor for your clumsiness! Stay behind and clean that up!" Snape roared. Hermione glared at Harry and Ron, who only gave her goofy smiles and the thumbs up sign. They're so dead.

As she wiped up the dragon's blood, she thought rapidly about what she was about to do. This is insane; he'll kill me. At least, she hoped not. She quickly repaired the broken vial, replaced it on the shelf. Taking deep breaths, she put one handcuff ring around her left wrist with a soft click, placed that hand in her pocket, and walked up to Professor Snape's desk.

Merlin's beard, what does that girl want? Snape thought as he looked up incredulously at her, his eyes telling her to say what she needed to say and then to leave as quickly as possible, so he could be rid of her presence for the rest of the day.

"Yes?" She seemed to be acting quite odd, more than usual.

"Sir? I'd, um, like to apologize for knocking over the dragon's blood," she stuttered out.

"As you should, Miss Granger. It was idiotically clumsy of you, but I wouldn't expect any more from you otherwise," he snapped. Hermione literally felt the hairs on her neck rise; that had stung.

"Well, Professor, I should think you'd be a little more grateful that I actually apologized," she replied, offended.

"Such courtesies are not worth you, Miss Granger," he returned coolly. All right, that's it, thought Hermione angrily. Get this dare over with. And she stretched out her left hand, grabbed his arm, and snapped the other handcuff ring around his right wrist.

Several thoughts immediately blasted into Snape's brain. One, What the hell is she doing grabbing my hand? Two, What is this metal thing around our wrists?! Three, Oh shit. He looked in shock at Hermione, who was standing across the desk from him, visibly shaking, her lips white and her jaw clenched.

"Miss Granger, remove this contraption at once!" Snape barked, jerking on it for emphasis. He really had no idea what it was, but they were chained together, and he did not like it in the least. He watched Hermione fumble with his side of the contraption around his wrist, trying to unlock or undo a catch of some sort. Her finger pads brushed gently over his hand and wrist, sending him weird tingling chills down his arm. Strange.

"Miss Granger, what is taking so long?" he said impatiently, as she was now yanking on the handcuffs, her eyes growing wider with fear by the second. Idiot girl, she will pay for this.

"I can't," she managed to rasp out softly.

"You what?" He hadn't really heard her clearly, and hoped he had mistaken what he'd heard.

"I can't get it off," she repeated, looking up into his eyes and seeing her death sentence through the fury and embarrassment building in his dark eyes that were piercing into her skull.

"WHAT?!"

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A/N: You like? Eh? J Review and tell me what you think, and let me know if you have title ideas! –The Grim