WARNING: This fic is rather permanently incomplete until such time as I can rewrite the first six chapters or so. Thought I should warn you given that it's only about a quarter of the way done now and will likely not get finsihed before 2007.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any member of the Harry Potter universe. They belong to the estimable JK Rowling and I am infinitely grateful for her letting us borrow them to play with a bit.

Warning: Post Order of the Phoenix, and yes, it does contain spoilers. Also, this will eventually be an M.

Chapter 1: A Long Year

Yet another new year at Hogwarts. Severus Snape, Potions Master extraordinaire, was beginning to dread them. Teaching the minds of the inferior progeny of his peers was bad enough, but Harry Potter was making his classes beyond unbearable. The damn child didn't have the good sense the gods gave a rock, let alone did he have any hope of succeeding once he'd left the coddling presence of the other members of the faculty. Some higher power must hate you, old boy, for Potter to have gotten an "O" on his OWLs. He'd hoped to have seen the last of that young man, but alas. At least there was no more Longbottom. Despite his failure to attain an adequate grade on his Potions OWLs to continue into the NEWTs class, that particular young man was still shaping up to be Snape's greatest trial. Two more years, he silently repeated his new mantra, two more years.

Snape sighed. His inner musings had cost him the beginning of the Headmaster's speech. The standard warnings and welcomes, he was sure, not much else to say, "…as usual, off limits to all students." What? Oh, he must mean the forbidden forest. "I'd also like all of you to extend a welcome to this years Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," Snape cast a glance to the far end of the table. He'd made a point a long time ago to distance himself from the imbeciles Dumbledore had been hiring. The new one didn't seem much different. He'd hired another woman. Snape wondered a moment if that was such a good idea. Umbridge had been a ministry sycophant, and this one didn't look like she would shape up much better. She was, however, strikingly beautiful- unlike the toad faced Umbridge- and obviously not ashamed of it. He'd seen less revealing robes on the harlots that frequented Knockturn Alley. She stood at Dumbledore's prompting and tossed back her blonde curls in a gesture that might've appeared negligent, but Severus Snape no longer believed in the innocence of women, "Professor Forasen, please join me in giving her a warm welcome." Snape had yet to give any of the DADA teachers a warm welcome, so rather than breaking with tradition, he refrained from doing so this time.

Ah, finally time for the food, the only reason to come to these damn dinners. The few times he'd tried to not come for consecutive nights, Dumbledore had ordered the house elves to quit feeding him. It wasn't worth the trouble to fix anything himself so… "Also," Dumbledore continued and Snape sighed, what now? "I regret to inform you of the passing of Professor Binns."

A murmur went up around the Hall. Wasn't he a ghost, how did a ghost pass? Dumbledore held up his hand for silence, "His hold on this plane is no longer relevant, and he willingly left us. Unfortunately, I had little warning, so until the new professor arrives mid-week, I will be teaching History of Magic," he paused for a moment, then smiled, "Well, enough of an old man's ramblings; Tuck in!"

Snape barely noticed the appearance of the feast. Binns was one of the few teachers he could put up with, the ghost felt no need to fill the silence with needless prattle. Snape growled, not only was he going to have to acclimatise a new DADA teacher, but another as well. It took people at least a fortnight to realise he had no real interest in them, their careers, their family, or - gods forbid- the weather; and that fortnight was very unpleasant for him. Probably for them as well, but that had never made a large difference to his thinking. When the world showed some sign of caring for him, he'd deign to care about the world. Until then…

Suddenly Snape realised the other teachers were giving him questioning looks. They had already known about Professor Binns' departure. After all, they were the staff. He, however, had been away on Order business all summer, so he was the only one shocked. Also the only one who hadn't started eating. He scowled and proceeded into his dinner. Damn people should keep their damn noses out of his own damn business.

My, you're feeling surly this evening.

He paused a moment to wonder at his mood. Was it simply the fact that once again he had been passed over for the DADA job? No, he'd gotten quite used to that. He knew full and well he was better off in Potions, he didn't have to like it, but he knew it. So why was he suddenly on the verge of resorting to cursing rather than the refined art of sarcasm? He sighed and admitted to himself that he knew full and well why he was in such a god-awful mood; it was the new teacher.

The one thing he hated more than the stupidity of his students was a beautiful woman. The thinly veiled disgust in their eyes when they looked at him, the condescending smile when they were introduced. Laughing behind their hands at him as they mocked his skin, his hair, and his sallow complexion. Oh yes, women were much worse than students. At least the female students feared him, all save a few seventh years who attempted a different tact to gaining a Potions grade. Thankfully he was neither so old, so lecherous, nor so desperate as to feel the need to succumb to the subterfuges of the younger generations.

Snape sighed again. It was going to be a long year.

At the other end of the great table, Professor Desdemona Forasen feigned interest in the conversation of the little man next to her. Fletching? Flingting? Flitnick. Ah yes, Flitnick. Odious little man. You'd think that as a Hogwarts professor he would have some sense of well, common sense. She obviously did not wish to speak with anyone, whatsoever, about anything. Oh dear, he's got that expectant 'What do you think' look. What the Hell did he just say?

"I'm sorry Professor, my mind was elsewhere, what was the question?"

"My dear, my dear, it's no problem at all!" the man squeaked in that annoyingly high voice, "I myself have often drifted into my own world, even in class! Why one time, I was teaching the third year Hufflepuff/ Slytherin class and…!" at this point he launched himself into a very long and very boring tale that seemed to have no discernable end in sight.

Great Gods, I just asked him to repeat a question. No wonder I missed it the first time. She sighed, Hogwarts was supposed to be the adventure of a lifetime. Hell, Harry Potter went to school here, instead it was shaping up to be very much a bore.

Oh Merlin, he has that 'I just asked you question' look again, why oh why does he keep bothering me!

She gave him a small smile indicating that once again, she'd managed not to hear him.

He tittered. Great Gods the man actually tittered. "Perfectly alright my dear! Everyone feels a bit out of sorts when they first arrive!" Excessive use of exclamations, she added the latest in a growing list of things that annoyed her. But thankfully, Flitnick, was that even his name, turned to the professor on his other side and engaged that poor soul in conversation instead.

She sank back into her seat. A glance around the Great Hall showed that most people were still eating, although one girl at the Gryffindor table was noticeablypreoccupied. Gryffindor, red hair, freckles. Weasley. Wonder what's got her so distracted?

Gods above Demi, you are actually interested in what is going on in the mind of a student. What on Gæa's green earth has happened to you? She pushed the food on her plate a bit; she was here for one reason and one only, she couldn't afford to let small things into her life.

Desdemona sighed. It was going to be a long year.

"I wish I was still in History of Magic," Ron moaned.

"Ron," Hermione pointed out, "History of Magic was your least favourite class."

"But 'Mione, Dumbledore's teaching it! Can you imagine…?"

"Well perhaps you shouldn't have dropped it at the first available opportunity. Anyway, he's only teaching it until midweek."

Ron sighed. "You just don't understand."

"You're right, I don't. I was perfectly happy to be in the class with Professor Binns."

"That's cause you're insane Hermione."

Hermione turned to Harry. They were in the common room waiting for the first years to figure out where their rooms were. "I beg your pardon?"

Harry snorted, but didn't reply.

"You alright there mate?" Ron asked tentatively. Ever since the end of fifth year, Harry had been a bit, well, distant. Obviously he was still upset about the death of his godfather, but Ron and Hermione were both desperately trying to draw him back into himself.

"Yeah."

Ron and Hermione shared a long look between them. Ron shrugged, a typical male 'If he doesn't want to talk about it I'm not going to make him' response. Hermione glared at him.

"Harry," she began, "how are you?"

"I'm going to go up to my room," he stood, "Good night."

"Ron," Hermione scolded.

"What?" he was honestly confused.

"You're supposed to be his friend."

"I am." When she didn't let up he felt compelled to point out, "Mione, men just don't talk about things like that."

"And why not?"

Ron shrugged, "We just don't."

Hermione made a noise in her throat that sounded suspiciously like a growl. "If he does something and gets himself killed it will be on your head Ron."

"Why me?" Ron's voice was at that particular stage in a young man's life that caused it to rise and fall at its own will. The question had a peculiar effect to it.

Hermione was not the type to laugh at another person's failings, but she had to hide a smile behind her hand at the octaves Ron's voice was desperately trying to put itself through.

Ron just sighed. Girl's minds worked in mysterious ways.

Lucius Malfoy's head burnt slowly in the fire of the Slytherin common room. The older students feigned deafness, and the younger scurried away so as not to incur either of the Malfoys' displeasure.

"Tell me again, Draco, two new professors…?"

Draco swallowed hard. His father could be, well, frightening, sometimes. "The new Defence teacher of course, and something's happened to that old coot Binns."

Lucius' face looked pensive for a moment. "Our Lord shares little information. It must be one…" he looked his son in the eye, "One of your new professors is a Death Eater, loyal to our Lord. Find out which one."

"Of course father."

Lucius smiled and Draco shivered. His father was most terrifying when he wasn't trying to be. "That's my son. We have great plans for you…" Lucius let the sentence trail off and disappeared from the grate. And just in time.

"Malfoy."

The word wasn't shouted, but then again, Severus Snape didn't need to shout. He commanded attention through his simple presence.

"Nice conversation?"

Draco nodded, then resolutely followed his head of house into his study.

It was going to be a very long year.