Disclaimer: No, I don't own the HP world or anything related to it. I'm certainly not making any profit off this – this is just for entertainment.

A/N: This is my first fanfic ever, so please keep that in mind and give me a little leeway, at least for a while until I get the hang of this. Flames are fine, so long as there's a point to them – if something is out-of-canon or I'm not using proper British vernacular (I'm American, so I don't know correct British slang – I'm just using what I remember from the books and other fanfics), please tell me, but don't flame just to say you don't like my story – it's fanfic! Anything goes…if you don't like the story, go find a different one you do like.

Thanks!

OoOoO

Severus had made the mistaken assumption that after the war was over, he would finally have some free time to relax. Unfortunately, the final battle had resulted in so many injured that St. Mungo's was overflowing, and patients were being sent to the infirmary at Hogwarts to try to find extra room. Dumbledore, after escaping the infirmary himself, set Severus to making healing potions, burn salves, and other items Madam Pomfrey and the other healers were in desperate need of. Severus complied, knowing first hand what a relief it was to be handed one of those little bottles and knowing the pain would soon fade away.

But even though he was the greatest Potions Master in the world (in his humble opinion), there was simply too much to do. He could brew complicated potions with ease, but the redundancy of creating the simplistic healing draughts was starting to wear thin. Regardless, he continued, putting aside all the research projects he had hoped to be able to work on after the demise of Voldemort, and methodically made batch after batch of concoctions for those who remained in the capable hands of the healers.

One morning, a mere week after Severus had been released from the infirmary and set to work on the aforementioned boring yet necessary batches of potions, he strode down the corridors of Hogwarts, robes billowing behind him as usual, even though there were no students anywhere to be found and intimidated. Severus was grateful that they had all been sent away for a whole month's vacation after the fall of the Dark Lord, after which all the little morons would return for a little while longer before going back home for the summer. Basically, school had been cancelled for the remainder of the year in the eyes of most of the teachers and all of the students, and they were only returning in order to take their OWL and NEWT tests, if necessary for their year. None of the teachers would be testing them on anything covered after the fall of Voldemort. Except Severus, of course. The persona of child-hating bastard was so ingrained into his personality, the thought of getting to push the little cretins to their intellectual limits (not that that was terribly far) while the idiots were expecting a free ride for the rest of the year almost made him dance for joy. Except that he didn't dance. Or express joy.

Finally, he made it into the Great Hall and slumped into his chair, back slouched over his plate rather than ramrod straight as was usual. His demeanor went unnoticed by the majority of the staff, who had learned long ago that attempting to converse with Severus before his 7th cup of coffee was taking their life into their own hands, even more so than attempting to converse with Severus after his coffee. Notice "majority of the staff" – Dumbledore had long since become immune to death-glares and was always careful to take his poison antidotes after harassing Severus, so he felt comfortable attempting to draw Severus into conversation. Besides, the young boy (compared to Dumbledore, anyway) looked even worse than usual, and Dumbledore had something that would lessen the boy's workload considerably, even though it would annoy Severus to no end. Ah, well. It was for his better good, anyway.

"Severus."

Silence greeted this attempt at getting the Potions Master's attention.

"Severus, I just watched you drink your fifth cup of coffee, so I know you can understand me by now."

Damn. The old codger was counting his cups of coffee? Strange old man…

"Well, I just wanted to tell you that I assigned Harry Potter to be your personal assistant for the rest of the school year to help –"

"You did WHAT!"

"Oh, so you are listening."

Aargh. He should have expected that. Dumbledore liked that imbecilic Gryffindor. He wouldn't do something that would put his life in immediate and perpetual danger.

"I actually assigned Hermione Granger to be your assistant, since you have so many things that you're making for us right now. Most of them are ones that I'm sure she mastered years ago, so she should be a great help to you."

Well, Granger wasn't half as bad as Potter, but she was still a Gryffindor and a show-off. "I do not need anyone to help me, Headmaster. Especially not the Gryffindor know-it-all."

"I'm terribly sorry, Severus."

Oh no. That did Not bode well.

"But you see, when I owled her the other day and asked if she'd be willing to help, she seemed so delighted at the prospect that I asked if she wanted to return from holiday early to get started."

Damn. Even with work to do, he had been enjoying the time away from the nincompoops. He just hoped he had a few more days of peace in which to prepare for the coming onslaught of questions. He was just certain that once she was in his classroom without other students for him to have to teach, she would be even more insufferable than usual. Which was saying quite a lot, actually.

"She'll be here later this evening, just in time for dinner, I do believe."

Damn. Damn damn damn.

"Do try to be polite, Severus."

His only response was to get up and leave the table. Luckily he had already finished all 7 cups of coffee, so he wasn't really missing anything, as he never ate solid food for breakfast anyway.