Author's Note: I've recently taken down the first installment of my Slytherin!Hermione saga that takes place in the second year. To all those who have read it, know that my reason for doing such is because I plan to re-write the story as a second installment in the saga. So my apologies to anyone who really enjoyed the story.

Hermione couldn't quite put her book-skimming finger on the reason for Professor Snape's instant, unadulterated disdain for Harry. Harry couldn't have done anything to him...could he? Despite the bitterness she had projected towards him just moments ago, the Potions Master's apparent dislike for Harry made Hermione somewhat uncomfortable, herself.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he lowly spoke, addressing the entire class. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses...I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Professor Snape certainly was passionate about his taught subject – albeit his condescending disposition, thought Hermione. But once Snape enlightened them all of his disconsolate distaste for the "dunderheads" he reluctantly took under his wing for all of the time consisting of his class's period, she wrote upon a mental sticky note to not come off as such and pinned it to the massive, systematized bulletin board that was her brain. She glanced sideways at Harry to see him exchanging uneasy looks with Weasley.

"Potter!" Snape suddenly called. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Hermione knew this, and her wrist twitched while she strenuously battled the urge to shoot her hand into the air.

"I don't know, sir," Harry meekly replied.

"Tut, tut – fame clearly isn't everything," Snape condescended.

Hermione could hear Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy chuckling in the background as Harry expressed his not knowing of where to find a bezoar when the teacher coldly quizzed him.

She could take no more of this. If Snape really did favor students from his own House, Hermione decided now would be an appropriate time to utilize the advantage. Her hand slowly went into the air. Once his gaze registered her as a Slytherin student, he calmly granted her permission to speak.

"You'll have to forgive Potter, Professor. Term has just begun and we're not even in the preliminaries of his tutelage."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Tutelage?"

Hermione could sense the questioning look in Harry's eyes, but didn't let it disrupt her ruse's smooth sailing. "Yes. He doesn't know much about Potions, but he confided in me that the subject holds his interest above all others. He doesn't know much about Slytherin other than their historical talents in the field of potion-making – which he greatly admires! So much that he approached me, despite the rivalry between our Houses, to ask of me to tutor him in the field. He was most eager to come to your class, you should know!"

At her (false) statement Snape directed his scrutinizing gaze back to Harry. "Is that true, Mister Potter?"

"I...Of course, sir," he weakly replied, an equally weak smile forming on his face that could've easily come off as embarrassment. Harry held the same shy, timid tone when taking part in a fib as he did when honestly admitting his ignorance of anything to do with Potions. Thus, Snape wouldn't have been able to tell if Harry were lying or not, Hermione calculated.

The Potions Master's expression was unreadable for a few seconds. "Well...just see to it that your interest in this subject doesn't diminish, Potter."

Mercifully, Snape's odious attention left Harry. Harry looked at Hermione and whispered, "Thanks."

She grinned cheekily in response.

Even Ron couldn't mince his words. "Nice save, Granger," he whispered past Harry.

"Thank you, Weasley," she quietly replied. While she didn't particularly land on the red-haired boy's radar for cordial company, it gave her a rewarded sensation to have earned a compliment from him.

Class commenced. Midway through brewing, Hermione asked to be excused to the girls' lavatory, leaving Harry and Ron to weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs.

"Hermione's kind of a neat girl, huh?" Harry said to Ron.

The corner of Ron's mouth twitched. "She's still a know-it-all...but I guess she's sort of alright – for a Slytherin."

Harry frowned. "I know Slytherin's reputation isn't very appealing...but do you really think they're all evil?"

Ron sighed. "Let's just say I'm closely acquainted with two Slytherins who've been the bane of my existence long before I arrived here at Hogwarts."

Harry blinked. "Really? Who?"

The only response Ron gave was the stiff tightening of his lower jaw.