The corridor was filled with chattering students. The morning sunlight poured through the gothic windows and the scent of parchment and new quills was spreading through the hallways. Several third-year Hufflepuffs groaned as Professor McGonagall deducted house points.

"Gods, Hermione, you'd think they promoted me to Headmaster with those rooms!" Neville Longbottom trotted alongside Hermione Granger as they exited the Charms classroom, on their way to the dungeons.

"I know, Nev. I've never seen anything so…" She looked at him, her chestnut eyes flashing. "There are simply no words to describe it."

Neville pulled a packet of Jelly Slugs from the inner pocket of his robe. They appeared to have melted in the heat of his pouch. Gooey as the wrapper was, he tried in vain to peel the plastic from the mess. "Slug?" He pushed the ooze towards her.

"No, Neville! Thanks." She forced a smile as her nose wrinkled involuntarily.

"Hey, they're still good. I even like 'em better when they're like this." He separated a slimy bit from the glop. Placing it in his mouth he added, "But hey, tell me what's different." He looked curious.

"Sorry?" Hermione was puzzled. "About the slugs?"

"No." He was amused.

"Then I don't know what you mean."

"There's something different about you today." Neville studied her intently from head to toe. "I don't know what it is…" Their pace had slowed considerably.

"Neville don't be silly. If we don't hurry we'll be late for Snape."

"Shit."

Once they had sprinted down the stairs, passed the gargoyles, and collapsed against the Potions classroom door to catch their breath, they realized they had a minute to spare.

"I was being serious, Hermione," Neville whispered as they took their seats, second row to the front.

Snape had yet to arrive.

"Nothing's different, really, Neville." Hermione pushed the hair back on her forehead with an open palm. Ringlets cascaded onto her shoulders. "I wore my hair down today."

"It looks nice." He smiled. "But, no… there's still something more."

Neville's examination of Hermione was cut short as the classroom door blasted open. Hinges creaking, the steel knob whammed against the wall with a boom.

A swirl of black robes and the stomp of leather boots against the cold stone, made the seventh-years aware that their professor had indeed returned, snarky as ever.

In a violent sweep, the Potions Master strode to his desk. Students froze as they felt the breeze his cape left in its wake. Harry and Ron exchanged unhappy looks. Hermione noted that Neville's knuckles had turned white from clutching the beaten wood of the worktable. Even Draco and Pansy had stilled at his entrance.

Abruptly, Snape jerked his face toward the class, obsidian eyes alight from the flame beneath the cauldron at his feet. His lips twitched, and all eyes surveyed him without choice, wondering what they would endure for the next hour.

"Have you twits enjoyed your holiday?" His tone was sincere, but the malicious glint in his eye made Hermione's stomach turn. She noted how he savored the word "twits" as his face contorted with venom.

"I hope you have." Sarcasm dripped from every word. "Because your foolish merriment ends here… children." His eyes met those of Harry Potter and narrowed visibly. "Open your textbooks to page twelve and begin copying the properties of Fluxweed. When you're finished, I want a foot of parchment discussing the effects Fluxweed harbors within the Polyjuice potion."

Hermione, startled, turned her face towards the tabletop to keep from becoming conspicuous. She was blushing profusely. Of course, she knew the day would come that they would learn about the Polyjuice potion in school, but she had not been prepared for it to happen on the first day of classes. She had to keep her cool. After all, she would have no excuse for this strange reaction for anyone aside from Harry and Ron.

"Well, what are you dunderheads waiting for?… Get to work!" Snape then took a seat behind his desk.

For the first five minutes of silence, Hermione concentrated on breathing. Her mind kept jolting back to the memory of when she was twelve, stealing from Snape's stores, and the horror of growing whiskers and a tail. Her hands shook a little as she removed a roll parchment from her messenger bag.

"Psst… 'Mione, you alright?" Ron had leaned over the gap between the tables and placed a hand on hers.

She shook her head. "Fine," she answered. What was wrong with her? It couldn't simply be the memory of the potion incident. True, Bulstrode's cat had scarred her, but it was unnatural for her to feel so uneasy. She chanced a look at Professor Snape and wished she hadn't.

His cold aura made her realize what was actually bothering her... The fact that he knew about it. He had to know after four and a half years. And she could guarantee that before their chapter exam, he would find the perfect time to humiliate her with it.

One of her ringlets had stuck to her vanilla lip balm. She tucked it behind her ear.

Snape shifted in his chair and dipped his quill in a pot of red ink.

Hermione didn't know it, but her moodiness was far more than hormones and fear of her hated professor. An inner struggle had begun. The new Hermione Granger, the real one, was stepping into a new light. What she recognized as fear was actually confidence. Her originality was becoming known, right there in the Potions classroom. Of course she was uneasy, overwhelmed even. A kaleidoscope of ideas and design were at last discovering a place in her inner thoughts. What Neville had noticed was the spark in her eyes; the spark of artistic sophistication that her face could no longer obscure.

"Hermione, are you okay?" Neville pushed some of the hair behind his friend's neck. "You look a bit flushed."

"I…I think so. Yes." She finally snapped out of the myriad of color that was swimming in her brain.

Mmmm. That was better. Everything was paint-able again, like it used to be. Gods this was wonderful for her. Nothing at all lacked the depth that she was so used to once. Why had she denied herself for so long? She had completely forgotten who she was. A dramatic, artistic being, full of color and fire…

All of this was tragically cut short. Neville accidentally tipped his inkpot and both he and Hermione's surprised intakes of breath had been enough to attract attention.

"Disturbing the class so soon?" the deep voice resonated. "Clumsy as ever I see, Longbottom." Snape had descended upon them, his pale hands crossed against his chest.

Neville visibly paled. His hands shook, and his breathing quickened as the Slytherins nearby giggled quietly.

"Evanesco." Snape's voice was soft as he cleared the ink from their workspace, revealing a blank roll of parchment paper. Soft, for him, meant dangerous.

"Why, Miss Granger, you have nothing on your parchment." His black eyes glinted darkly, and a smirk was evident.

Hermione knew it was coming. All eyes were upon her. That, itself, did not bother her. In fact, she rather liked it. It was more the fact that she was about to be made a fool.

If only she could turn the game around.

Snape leaned against the table, cocking his head as he regarded her. He glared. "While I do know, Miss Granger, that you possess a great deal of knowledge regarding the Polyjuice potion and the ingredients within…" He trailed off, savoring the uneasy look on her face. "I suggest that you refrain from slacking off."

Harry and Ron had caught the meaning in his words and they shot daggers at him, though they were too smart to say anything. Hermione concentrated on keeping a level head. The "slacking off" comment had made her very angry, though, she knew what she was going to do.

"After all, lack of caution with such dangerous substances could lead to very unwanted results." He was downright taunting her. She didn't understand it. How could he be that cruel?

"Isn't that right, Miss Granger?"

She wanted to insult him. Her face was red and her hair had fallen around her eyes. She wouldn't, though. She wouldn't, because he wanted it. He wanted to see her fail so he could deduct points and humiliate her further. For once, she would not give into that. She would surprise them all… friends, enemies, and the asshole before her.

Clearing her throat calmly, she looked at Snape as though he had wished her a good morning. "Yes, Sir, that's right."

He raised an eyebrow. Ron looked at her as though she had lost her mind. Perhaps she had, in a way.

"And isn't it correct, Miss Granger…" He just wouldn't quit. "That Boomslang skin is a necessary ingredient in brewing this potion?"

"That's correct, Professor." Her voice never faltered, never raised. She knew what he was getting at. He was livid. And she was enjoying it.

"And where, might I ask, would one find such a rare ingredient, Miss Granger?" He had lowered himself so his face was level with hers. She could feel his breath against her cheeks as he exhaled in anger.

She took her time in calculating what exactly to say. She studied his face, his bulging black eyes and wild hair that clung to his sticky pale skin. The dark of the room made him look mysterious and bold. If she could paint him like that she would need a new tube of black oil paint.

Extra oil, she thought.

That image brought a smile to her face.

The class looked at her as though she'd sprouted another head. She had definitely gone crazy, grinning like that. In her position, few people would have the ability to hold back tears. She was practically laughing.

Snape's eyebrows had shot up and he was looking at her with disbelief. He spoke again in low tones, through gritted teeth, "Well, Miss Granger?"

Her answer was light. She sounded like she was talking to Ginny while window-shopping in Hogsmeade. So out of character was she, that the words took a few moments for the Potions Master to register…

"Well, I suppose one could find Boomslang skin in any number of specialty shops, though it is not cheap…" She smiled. "You, Sir, in fact, used to own a jar of it in your stores. But, I don't think you do anymore." She paused innocently. "Is that why you're asking?"

Professor Snape couldn't believe what he was hearing. He stood again and took a step back, only to come crashing down on her again, hands on either side of the table.

"Impudent girl!" he barked.

She gazed up at him, her face never showing any emotion rather than virtuous indifference. He couldn't hurt her, so she could keep up her act with ease.

"One hundred points from Gryffindor, for stealing from a Professor's stores!" He towered over her.

"Okay," she said calmly.

"Another fifty for your insolence, Miss Granger!"

She really should have stopped. But the kindness in her voice, setting him off like that, was compelling to say the least.

"Professor, we have no points to begin with." She was beaming. "You know me well enough to know that I've read many books in the library, one of my favorites being Hogwarts a History."

"Miss Granger…" His voice was low and grinding through his crooked teeth. He was quite a sight.

"Professor, please, let me finish. You hate it when I interrupt." Nonchalantly she looked around her, coming back to face him. "There is no such thing as negative house points." She shrugged. "So I'm not jeopardizing my fellow classmates by talking to you."

"No, Miss Granger, you're on my last nerve… And I'd quit the nonsense now before I lose my temper and you find yourself in detention for the rest of the year!" His voice had lowered still and Hermione realized how terrifying he must have been as a Death Eater.

Wait, he still is a Death Eater, turned spy.

"Sir!" She hadn't planned for it to go quite that far.

"Detention, girl! Tomorrow night, eight o'clock!"

"Alright." She accepted defeat. "With Mr. Filch, Sir?"

"No, Miss Granger, with me."


Dumbledore clapped his hands and plates of shepherd's pie, mashed potatoes, and stewed carrots appeared on the tables. Pitchers of pumpkin juice were passed from student to student and the clang of silverware filled the Great Hall.

The Gryffindor table couldn't seem to quit chattering about Hermione's display that afternoon in Potions class. News had traveled fast, of course, and Hermione was sure the other houses had word as well. The Slytherins were probably having a bash.

"You know, I don't think it can be so bad," Hermione said suddenly, thinking out loud to herself. "Detention with the bat. Piece of cake. I mean he's so overdramatic. How juvenile can you get? Bringing up silly things I did when I was twelve... I wish everyone would realize that it was he who made the scene... I just agreed with him." Ron looked uneasy.

Ginny leaned in slightly, placing her fork in her dish. "Hermione, everyone knows that Snape's an arse." Her friends nodded. "I wasn't there, but Neville suggested… apparently… that you asked for it."

Hermione laughed loudly, causing a few heads to turn in her direction.

"That might be true," She scoffed. "But think about it. What did I do but treat the cruel bastard with kindness?" She trailed off, looking around the table. "If that's considered 'asking for it', then I don't know what to say." She forked a carrot into her mouth.

"Yeah, Hermione, but you're messing with Snape," Harry stated. He stared at her. "The way you handled him today was brilliant. But, I can't help but think you've gone a little mad."

"Harry—" Hermione started.

"Yeah, 'Mione, it's not like you. At all." Ron finally spoke, cutting her off. "I loved seeing the git so pissed. But, I have to agree with Harry. I think you're bloody stupid."

"Ronald, that's enough." Ginny had piped up again.

"No we're serious, Gin. It's not enough. I've been through hell and back and only once have I ever seen him so angry." Harry looked nervous.

Hermione seemed to be reflecting. He waited till she caught his gaze.

"Hermione, he's been angry enough to throw me to the ground… He's that angry again." He noticed she looked a little worried. "I reckon he's scheduled the detention for tomorrow, though, because he needs to cool down."

Hermione thought for a moment in silence. The weight of her friends' words registered when she noticed Professor Snape was not present at the High Table. It was very unlike him to miss dinner.

"I still don't care. If he wanted to hurt me, he would have done it in class. I'm not afraid of him anymore. He's pathetic." Hermione began to get upset. "I only tried something original for once! I tried being nice!"

"Snape doesn't know how to be nice!" Ron yelled.

"He doesn't even know how to wash his hair," Seamus added, who was listening to the conversation.

Many more students at the table had been listening to the conversation. It was difficult not to. They laughed at Seamus' comment.

"No. Bottom line, Hermione, he's not a nice man. It would have been different if he was," Harry went on, much quieter this time. "He's a very important asset to the war, yes. He works for the light, yes. He's a member of the Order, yes. And you have defended that of him."

Ron scoffed. Ginny nudged him. "Let Harry finish," she said.

"…But that will never change the fact that he'd love nothing more than to make us miserable, and humiliate us at every turn." He swirled the pumpkin juice in his glass.

"Why does he do that though?" Hermione asked this more to herself than anyone at the table.

"Because he's just that heartless I guess." Harry resumed eating his shepherd's pie. "All I can say is… Good luck tomorrow night."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. All eyes redirected to the High Table. The headmaster was now standing.

"Attention, students!" Dumbledore's merry voice caused silence in a matter of seconds. "I have an announcement." Curious expressions passed from student to student.

"I would like you all to welcome a new addition to our school."

Suddenly the door behind the High Table swung open to reveal a small girl with dark brown hair, followed by Professor Snape.

So that's where the greasy bat was.

He threw his robes behind him and sneered toward the crowd of surprised students. The group of Gryffindors noticed the girl was already dressed in full Hogwarts uniform. Her skirt was a little long because of her deficient height. And she looked as though she was wearing a man's shirt, because her white sleeves fell slightly below her robe sleeves, which were already far too long. Her chest and facial features, however, blessed her with traits far from masculine. And they could not be hidden under the oversized clothing.

The first thing that Hermione noticed, though, was the unmistakable silver serpent that embellished her robes.

So she's a Slytherin...

Dumbledore continued with a smile. "Please give a warm welcome to Miss Yeva Parajanov, who will be joining Slytherin house for her sixth year at Hogwarts." A few staggered claps broke out from different corners of the hall.

Draco Malfoy leaned to a few of his friends and whispered, "That's her, mates. The one I was telling you about." Pansy and Millicent moved down a few seats to make room for their new housemate.

Snape nudged the girl forward to step beside Dumbledore. She looked very nervous and pushed the hair behind her ears. Her hair looked like it was thick as molasses, and while not conventionally beautiful, she wasn't unattractive.

Her wavy mass of hair fell to the middle of her back. Long and lean, her face held a soft quality. Her skin was a deep olive tone and her nose was a little large. But she had beautiful eyes.

From where Hermione was seated, she could tell that they were a deep blue, and they glittered in the half-light of the High Table. Her lashes were long and sweeping, also dark, they framed her irresistible eyes. She emanated mystery.

"Yeva has come to us from Durmstrang, and is very happy to join us." Dumbledore placed his hand on her shoulder. Yeva smiled brightly, revealing pearly white teeth and a set of deep dimples on her cheeks.

Ron leaned forward. "She looks so nice."

"I know," Ginny said.

"I wonder why she's gotta go with the Slytherins," Ron added.

"Oh, Ron, I'm sure she's been sorted." Hermione joined their quiet conversation.

"Maybe the Sorting Hat is getting a little old." Ron studied her.

Yeva was no more than four and a half feet tall, and with Snape and Dumbledore on either side, it made her look like a midget. Following the sharp directing finger of the Potions Master, she walked quietly to the end of the Slytherin table, taking a seat next to Millicent Bulstrode.

Though delayed, the entire hall broke into applause. It was heavy from the Slytherins.

Above them, Dumbledore took his seat and leaned to Remus Lupin.

Quietly he spoke. "Remus, have you informed them all of the Order meeting tonight?"

"Yes, of course, Albus." Remus glanced to Severus, who was studying the Parajanov girl with an unreadable expression.

"Thank you." Dumbledore snapped his fingers and his plate, as well as the rest of them, were cleared instantaneously. "Congratulations again, on your breakthrough. It must have been the best feeling in the world." On a whim as he snapped his fingers, Dumbledore replaced the filling supper with various bowls of brightly colored fruit sorbet.

"I can assure you, Headmaster, that it was." Remus smiled. "But, as you know, I couldn't have done anything without Severus."

Dumbledore frowned. "I trust that you told him so?"

"Yes." Lupin unexpectedly placed a finger on his cheek where he had been slapped the night before. He weighed his words. "He's depressed, Albus, I think. He didn't take it well." He looked at Dumbledore and then to the strawberry sorbet in front of him.

"Hmm… I daresay I feel the same." The twinkle had returned to his eye. "But I would not fret too much. I believe Severus will come around." Plopping a lemon-flavored scoop of sorbet on his plate and glancing at Severus, he continued. "Though I do hope, as much as I know you do, Remus, that it will be soon."