"So, you see, the need for y—"
"No."
"Now, Severus I be—"
"NO."
Dumbledore sat back in his chair, lifting his hands from the armrests where they had been bracing his weight a moment before. He drew his fingers together in front of his chest, dropping his elbows to land where his palms had been. As he opened his mouth to begin again, Severus cut him off with an abrupt lift of his own hand.
"Surely," he drawled, not bothering to hide the distaste in his tone, "you can understand that after years of being subject to the most ill-concocted, noxious smelling, haphazardly executed and ridiculously botched potions on a DAILY basis…" He paused for emphasis. "I would not. Ever. WILLINGLY. Allow my internal organs to be subject to the mercy of these little arsonists. Contrary to previous choices in employer, I am not, in fact, suicidal."
"You're being overly harsh, Severus."
"You've become overly senile, Albus."
Dumbledore sighed, and allowed his body to sink the rest of the way into the chair. Severus stood in front the desk silently, stoic in his resolve to have nothing to do with judging the cooking contest. The headmaster was pensive for a few breaths.
"Well, Severus, if you are determined not to be part of the panel—"
"I'm glad you found your senses in this, Albus, as—"
"—then you can simply mentor the contestants until it's time for the contest itself."
"—I certainly planned to do WHAT?"
"I'll post the notice in the morning. Thank you for bringing this issue to my attention, old friend. I never would have considered the potential ramifications of a contest without proper preparations." His eyes twinkled in mirth, even as his face showed nothing but concern.
"Headmaster, at the risk of losing my position, I—"
"No, don't give it another thought! I'll take care of all the arrangements. Would you mind terribly fetching Mr. Filch on your way back to the dungeons?" With that polite dismissal, he turned his attention to summoning a few sheets of parchment to draft his notice.
Snape was dumbstruck. How had he managed to be outmaneuvered in such an ignoble fashion? And how the devil did Albus Dumbledore manage to do that with such irritating regularity? Turning with his signature, bat-like flourish, he left the tower office in a huff, mentally chastising himself the entire way, only pausing at Filch's door to relay the summons from above. By the time the professor reached his office door, he had decided to use the opportunity to turn this proposed lunacy into an excuse to take as many house points as possible before the contest. He allowed a small smirk as he closed his door behind him.
...
Snape paused his grading of papers and cocked an ear towards his office door. After a moment of silence, his quill resumed its scratching across the essay on his desk. A few lines down the page, he was distracted again by a faint shuffling sound. Dropping his quill in annoyance, Snape abruptly rose from his seat and made his way over to the entryway. He flung open the door with unnecessary force and was surprised to find Hermione Granger fidgeting like a first year. He cleared his throat loudly and she took a startled step back, casting her eyes to the floor and quickly back up at him.
"And to what, Ms. Granger," he ground out through clenched teeth, "do I owe the singularly unpleasant nature of your company?" Hermione tried to steal herself.
"Professor, I need your help," the words tumbled out in a rush.
"With. WHAT?" Snape posed the question with obvious disdain.
"Well," Hermione began again, stammering a bit. "What I meant to say, Professor, is that I would like your help, that is, if you've time, Professor, and if it isn't against the rules, of course, because that would not be appropriate at all, and I certainly wouldn't want to be accused of mal—"
"ENOUGH!" Snape's voice was firm, and its pitch was deadly. Hermione's lips snapped closed like a trap and she found herself focused on her teacher's mouth, waiting for him to spew whatever venom he undoubtedly held in reserve, just for her.
Severus hesitated for just a second; words seem to escape him as his student focused so much attention on his face that found it mildly unnerving.
And a bit… exciting.
He blanched for a heartbeat, and then grabbed Granger by the upper arm to haul her out of the potions classroom before the world came down around his ears.
"Pro—, professor! Please, hear me out!" Hermione began to dig in her heels, hoping to slow her departure when she realized Snape meant to eject her without preamble.
"Ms. Granger, I do not have time for games and riddles. There are an entire school of teachers who can make themselves available for whatever insignificant tasks you are trying to accomplish. No doubt, a smattering of those dense souls may even be willing to do so." Snape's voice was clipped and tight.
"I'm not sure what I did or said to give you a turn, Professor," Hermione tried to backtrack, "but I assure you there is no other instructor at Hogwarts equal to this task." She felt the brutal tugging on her arm lessen as Snape slowed to wrap his mind around her words. She capitalized on the moment by twisting free of his slackened grip and pulling a selection of books from the overflowing bag she always had with her.
Severus Snape was having a hard time processing what had just happened. For the second time that day, the path he'd set himself upon had been utterly ambushed, and his personal feelings in the matter completely disavowed. He was sure that he would wake up any moment, because he couldn't possibly be losing his edge so spectacularly. In his preoccupied state, he was inattentive enough to miss out on Hermione Granger setting up shop along one of his classroom tables. When he was able to rouse himself from his musings, the former death eater was stunned by the sheer number of cauldrons she had managed to line up, complete with fires lit, in the space of a few haggard breaths. With a snarl, Snape released his wand from his robe sleeve and without fanfare snuffed every single fire, sending cauldrons sailing towards shelves and closets.
"Impudent girl! Didn't I say—"
"Professor! Aren't you listening?" Hermione halted the flurry of flying equipment with a quick flick of her wand and they reversed direction altogether, landing neatly back in the order she had set them up in. She found herself treated to a sight few living wizards could say they had ever seen: Severus Snape, eyes bulging from their sockets, face a mottled plate of pink and red, mouth gaping like a large-mouthed bass, moving from open to closed but no sound escaping. Hermione saw his wand hand shaking, little tremors running unchecked down his arms, and deftly 'accio'd' it away before he could do any unintentional damage. Or intentional damage, for that matter.
The Head Girl felt a surge of confidence unlike any she'd had before with the potions master. After all she had been through in the last few years; she finally felt she could stand her ground on the same level. He no longer frightened her as he had when she was a child, nor did he cow her as he did at the age of fourteen. Watching the man stand stock still, frozen by his lack of control over the situation, Hermione felt powerful. She stood a little straighter, and her voice rang a little clearer.
"Now, Professor, as I was saying, I understand the theory behind the disbursement of the ingredients at various temperatures, but I haven't had any luck replicating the results in practicum."
"Disbursement… theory?" Snape echoed.
"Yes, Professor."
"…practicum?" another hollow sounding query.
"Yes, Professor." Hermione noted that the wizard had yet to move from his statuesque position near the classroom entrance. "Oh, do sit down, Professor Snape! You're not being very helpful over there, you know," she continued to encourage him as she flipped open Fast Food Frenzy to page 213. Trance-like, Severus Snape drifted to the bench nearest the first cauldron and plunked down on it heavily. The bemused witch couldn't stop her lips from twitching upwards when she heard him muttering to himself.
"I'm dreaming. Surely, I'm still asleep. This isn't happening. This isn't possible. This can't be real. I'm not here right now. This whole day has not happened…"
.