By the time the clocks chimed six o'clock, Severus had worked himself into a bundle of anticipatory nerves, despite the fact that he didn't dare get his hopes up too high. He'd been denied the Defense Against the Dark Arts position for so many years running that it seemed almost to be a joke by now, though one he did not find overly amusing. Perhaps, though, Headmistress Malfoy would be more willing to grant him his desire than Headmaster Dumbledore had been. Malfoy, after all, did not have the years of experience in telling him no. Perhaps that was in his favor.

At precisely six, he entered the Headmistress' office, which, unsurprisingly considering her schedule today, was largely as it had been when he left that morning. The only discernable difference was a tray of what appeared to be untouched dinner on a table, and a general feeling of more scattered paper. Her head came up, though, and there was that smile on her lips—the Malfoy smile, cool and bordering on condescending, as though the recipient should realize that being gifted such a smile was, indeed, a blessing. It was irritating from Draco, and ingratiating from Lucius. From Regalia, though, it was almost seductive. He wanted to make her smile genuinely.

"Ah, Professor Snape," she said, rising. "Come in, have a seat. I expect you know why you're here?"

He moved to the chair he had occupied earlier, and paused, waiting for her to join him before seating himself. "To discuss the school's need for a Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor," he replied promptly.

She laughed, that musical sound of birds singing and chimes ringing. "And to convince me that you are precisely the man for the job," she added. "So, why don't we begin there? Tell me what you think is necessary in that position, and why you are a prime candidate."

For some reason he would never have been able to define, Severus was not anticipating an actual interview here. He'd been expecting, perhaps because it was the way Dumbledore had always done it, to come in here and to point out that they were in need of a teacher, and to insist that he was qualified. Dumbledore had never once asked him to justify that claim. Dumbledore hadn't even properly 'interviewed' him for the position of Potions professor. In fact, Severus had very little experience with interviews at all.

"Well," he began, his brain churning quickly to produce a response, "obviously you want someone who is familiar with the Dark Arts and the defenses against them." That opening sounded hopelessly inadequate even to his own ears. Think, you idiot! he prompted himself, and took a deep breath. "And, preferably someone with practical experience." Excellent. Provide yourself an opening you can't follow up on. If she asks you what experience you have, what are you going to say? That you've been playing both sides of the Dark Lord's battles for the last twenty years? Find something more neutral. "And, given the dangerous nature of the subject, someone who is capable of controlling a classroom." Ah! Finally something you can work with. "It's also likely that you want someone with experience teaching."

Malfoy was nodding, and making notes with that quill of hers again. It never stopped moving. It was slightly disconcerting. "Then I take it you are familiar with the Dark Arts and the defenses against?"

"Yes," he replied, grimacing slightly. "If you check my OWL and NEWT scores…"

"I already have," she replied, pulling two sheets of parchment from that charmed folder of hers.

"Oh," he murmured, then composed himself. "Then you know that my scores were most impressive." He'd received Outstandings on both, but he knew that a couple of test scores were not going to win him this coveted position.

"And experience?" she prompted when it became obvious that he had nothing else to add to his little plug about his scores.

Sighing, he closed his eyes. "We live in dark times, Headmistress," he replied vaguely. "I have as much experience as any other wizard who has been involved. More than some. Likely less than others." Damn. That could have been a point strongly in his favor if he were at liberty to divulge the extent of his involvement.

"Of course," she replied, not looking up as she made more notes. "And the teaching experience… obviously you've been teaching for fifteen years now, so… ah yes. Ability to control a classroom. Tell me about that."

No reaction from her. She didn't even look at him as she spoke. It was unnerving. "I… er… I maintain a very strict discipline in my classroom, Headmistress," he replied. "Potions is also a potentially dangerous subject, and I believe it is largely common knowledge at Hogwarts that my classroom is not a place for foolish shenanigans. When I take classes for other members of the faculty, I maintain that same control in my temporary classrooms as well."

"Quite," she replied noncommittally. "Are there any other qualities you think are critical in a Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor?"

He grimaced again, though he didn't think she noticed, absorbed as she seemed to be in her note taking. "All the general qualifications necessary for teaching, of course," he replied, almost absently as he watched the hypnotic motion of her quill. "A desire to see the students succeed, a determination to work towards helping them in that quest. Organization and leadership abilities." She was nodding as he spoke.

"Anything else?"

If he were more inclined towards fidgeting, Severus would have been doing precisely that. "Perhaps I should ask you what qualities you are looking for and tell you how well I meet them?" he suggested, and this time she did look up.

For a long moment, she regarded him carefully, but there was no expression to her glacier-like eyes. "Very well," she replied, reaching into her folder again and producing yet another sheet of parchment. "I am looking for patience, Professor Snape. Do you consider yourself a patient man?"

She stayed a step ahead of him. If he could ever manage to put himself in the lead, he thought he could maintain it by staying on his toes, but he'd begun at a disadvantage, and that disadvantage had not eased in the slightest. Just as he tried to urge the interview to a more favorable position for himself, she tells him that she is looking for patience. "Yes," he replied after a moment. "I am a patient man. I am willing to wait for a great many things, and I have a fundamental understanding that there are many things that cannot be rushed. I do not, however, have a great deal of tolerance for stupidity. If you are asking if I am patient enough to teach a class to wait and find the best opening for attacking a Hinkypunk, then yes. If you are asking if I will be patient while a student repeatedly makes the same error—no. I am not patient in that respect. I expect students to learn, and so long as they are advancing, I will be exceedingly patient with them—whatever I am teaching—but if they are not trying, then patience will cease to be a virtue."

She nodded, her quill still bobbing and swooping. "I am also looking for someone who can teach on a very broad scope as well as a narrow one. There are too many facets of the Dark Arts for each individual one to be covered in a classroom. How would you ensure that your students have an adequate understanding, even if an individual curse or creature was not part of the curriculum?"

"That, Headmistress, is very similar to potions class," he replied, feeling slightly more confident about this answer. "I do not teach students to brew specific mixtures so much as I teach them the technique. That they mix a Swelling Potion when they are second years is coincidental; I could replace that with any number of solutions. The real lesson is to watch for the change in consistency that marks a catalytic reaction, and the particular potion is merely the tool we use to practice the skill. Defense Against the Dark Arts is much the same way—certain concepts and skills need to be learned so that they are second nature, but the way one deals with a Dark Creature is largely the same, whatever it may be: find the weakness and exploit it to your advantage. It's a matter of learning to think defensively, of being prepared, of putting previous, sometimes seemingly unrelated, knowledge to good use."

Her head was bobbing slightly, almost absently, and her quill continued to dip and lurch. "Since the school has apparently been lacking in a competent Defense teacher for…" she frowned and paused, picking up one of her sheets of parchment again and peering at it, "at least three of the last five years, I am especially concerned with the older students being prepared for their OWLs and NEWTs. How would you ensure that the fifth and seventh years have the necessary knowledge for those exams when their education has been so severely lacking?"

Severus snorted softly. "Isn't that the riddle of the century?" he murmured under his breath. More loudly, he offered what amounted to conjecture. "First," he began, "I'd have to insist that so much of that will depend on the students. I would impress upon them from the beginning of classes that they are far behind, and to catch up to the appropriate levels will require a great deal of effort on their part. I would, of course, make myself available to them for additional lessons, and schedule additional ones outside the primary curriculum. There was some evidence last year that the students are willing to gather after classes for additional organized instruction, perhaps they could be convinced of the merit of doing that again this year. Fortunately, the third and fourth year students are likely not in a terrible place. There is every reason to believe they could be brought up to par within a year. Incidentally, Headmistress, that is something else I would be looking for if I were you—stability. There have been enough teachers who were here for a year and then left."

"Indeed," she replied evenly. "Tell me, Professor, why is it that you wish to teach the Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

Making a mental note to thank Minerva, Severus began promptly. "It is a practical, challenging subject," he replied. "And it is one that the students have a great need to learn, and to learn well. It is unfortunate that we have had so many unreliable and incompetent instructors in the past few years, and I think it shows in the students. The subject is very nearly a joke with them, and I know, perhaps better than anyone on staff, that it cannot be allowed to remain such. I could offer them guidance and instruction that they have not had in the past."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Quite interesting," she replied smoothly. "But you did not answer my question. I asked why you want to teach it, not why there is need for a teacher and not why you are a good candidate. You have applied for this position several times in the past years, which tells me that you desire it. Why?"

He was slightly taken aback by the question, and the insistence on an answer. It was the same question Minerva had asked him, and the same one Dumbledore had often asked. You are a potions master, Severus, one of the brightest in the field, and at such a young age, there is little doubt that you will exceed everyone's wildest expectations. I won't have you walking away from that without a reason, my boy. Now why are you so hell-bent on teaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts? And, it was a valid question indeed. Why was he so adamant?

"I don't know that I can answer that, Headmistress," he replied finally. "But I suppose it has become something of a passion for me."

"Well, then perhaps you can tell me why you have been denied the position for five years running?" she asked, frowning. "Professor Dumbledore's notes are very vague on that point."

Severus snorted softly. "If you ever find out that answer, I hope you share it with me," he replied. "As far as I can tell, the Headmaster simply thought I was fulfilling some sort of destiny by teaching Potions."

Regalia shook her head slightly, a smile on her lips. "And do you not wish to teach potions?" she asked.

"No."

"Why not?"

He should have known that was coming, and cast about for an answer that was a little less… pompous than the truth. He could not find one. "I have dedicated many years to my studies of potions, Headmistress," he replied tightly. "Watching students render a simple potion useless through carelessness is… trying. There is, in my estimation, little excuse not to succeed in potion-making. The instructions are straight-forward, at least for the mixtures I have them brew in class, and if one is careful, anyone should be able to achieve excellent results. It is a study based entirely on skill, not on talent, and with preparation and attention to detail, there is no excuse for failure. And I have little patience for carelessness, as I mentioned earlier."

Malfoy nodded thoughtfully. "Do you think you would be more content teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied without hesitation.

"Why?"

"Because it is not a study based entirely on precision and meticulous preparation. It is dependent largely on instinct and talent, and a student can be successful at it without being perfect, which is not possible in potions. Potions sets up the expectation of failure, in a way. There is only one way to achieve the desired result, and no way to recover from a poor start. There are more chances with a subject like the Defense Against the Dark Arts—an initial mistake needn't be the end of it. It's broader, with more opportunities for students to succeed, which, in turn, is less frustrating for the teacher."

Malfoy nodded again. "Well, Professor Snape, thank you for your time. I'll let you know one way or the other by noon on Friday."

"Friday?" he repeated, the surprise urging him to speak before he realized his mouth was open.

"Yes, Friday," she replied firmly. "I have a few more interviews scheduled before I make a decision."

He snapped his mouth shut. Dumbledore had always given him an answer the night he discussed it with him. Patience, he reminded himself.

"Very well, Headmistress," he replied resigning himself to wait.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Professor Snape," she said amicably, closing her folder and standing. He stood too.

"Tomorrow?" he frowned. "Do I have a meeting with you tomorrow? I don't have anything written…"

She interrupted by laughing. "Breakfast, Professor. Or lunch or dinner, or in the corridors… Surely we will see each other in passing at some point during the day."

He felt a fool as he nodded. "Of course," he replied.

"Good evening, Professor Snape."

"Good evening, Headmistress." As he stepped out of her office and onto the moving staircase again, he reflected that she was ahead once again—he could not afford to make an enemy of her for any reason until she made her decision regarding the Defense position. Cunning indeed.