Typical Disclaimers Apply

A/N: Thanks to RadicalReason, Azrulai, and elethian for reviewing chapter one!

The first feast of the new year was probably Esme's favorite part of Hogwarts. There weren't any impending essays or detentions hanging over her head, Snape had better things to do than to glare in the direction of the Gryffindor House table, and she actually got to eat with girls her own age. Not that she didn't love her family, but when the closest person in age is Percy Weasley, summer can get rather tedious.

She had gotten close to Tonks back in first year; Esme was related to the notorious accomplice to You-Know-Who, Marcus Slain, and Tonks had a second-cousin, an uncle, and an aunt all in Azkaban for horrible crimes against wizards and Muggles alike. And apparently, almost everyone at Hogwarts knew this. So, out of fear of being totally ostracized (people weren't exactly friendly when they discovered evil relatives), the two girls had clung together. Being in different Houses hadn't been too much of an issue, but eventually they'd both managed to make friends with the students they shared a common room with. Esme's happened to be Claire Owens and Maura Finnigan. And, for the past five years, they'd eaten almost every meal together.

However, now all three girls were distracted by something much more exciting than food.

"Please tell me that isn't the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," said Claire, one of her cocoa-colored hands gripping her glass of pumpkin juice. Claire had been Gryffindor prefect the last two years, which had been rather fortunate when it came to causing trouble.

Esme nodded, also staring at a man with very shiny hair and obnoxiously blue robes. "I saw him in Flourish and Blotts the other day. I don't think I've ever seen anyone make such a prat of themselves."

"I dunno," Maura said slowly, raising an eyebrow, "I think he's kind of cute." Petite and curvy, Maura was a bit of a hopeless romantic, and had the unfortunate luck to fall in love with any bloke who wasn't spitting and scratching himself.

Esme rolled her eyes at her friend, "I don't think a man wearing aquamarine is going to be interested in a girl like you."

"What do you—oh," she covered her hand with her mouth and giggled. Dumbledore was standing and talking now, but, as usual, no one over the age of twelve was actually listening.

Esme scanned the line of professors again, and noticed with a shock that her absolute favorite teacher was missing. "Where's Snape?" she asked quietly.

"He pulled your little brother and Harry Potter out of here nearly ten minutes ago," said Claire.

"Why?"

"Well, according to everyone at the table, they stole your parents' car."

It was all Esme could do not to tear up with pride right then and there. Instead, she covered her emotions by saying, "Damn, and I'd gotten my hopes up that he'd died." Both Claire and Maura raised their eyebrows. "Oh, come now. We all know that man won't die a natural death." Maura rolled her eyes and frowned. Fortunately, before she could add some witty retort, a rather loud announcement distracted her. "As I repeat," Dumbledore was saying, looking straight at them, "in case some certain students weren't listening: All seventh years must report to their Head of House at eight A.M. tomorrow morning." He raised his white eyebrows, skimming the faces of Maura, Esme and Claire. All of the other students were staring at them.

Apparently not everyone talked through his speeches.

As a means of atonement, all three girls arrived in McGonagall's office that morning, on time, and reasonably well dressed. She raised her eyebrows as they took their places in one of the two rows of chairs set up in front of her desk. The two other Gryffindor girls in their year, Scarlet Brown and Martha Haverworth looked at them scathingly.

Typically, Scarlet and Martha did all they could to avoid socializing with their three other roommates. Both had strong desires for lives in politics, and Martha even had the family to back it up—her grandfather had been Minister of Magic several decades ago. The kind of trouble Esme got into would make them faint, and the fact that Claire had been prefect had made her enemy number one in their eyes.

But McGonagall didn't care about any of this. In fact, after seeing her glare at all five girls and all six boys, Esme was fairly certain she wouldn't be upset if this class of Gryffindors was eaten by a dragon. "Let me just say," she said coolly as she rose from her desk, "after the shenanigans of the past year, I am ashamed to call many of you Gryffindors. Selling alcohol to children," she spat, "repeatedly skipping classes, and I can't tell you about the almost weekly noise complaints I get about the parties in Gryffindor Tower. You have made your House a mockery and I hope you are ashamed."

"But Professor," said Scarlet, raising her hand meekly, "we were the ones with the most points last year."

"That is true," said McGonagall, regaining her temper. "And you have shown some of the highest academic prowess than many other classes. I can only hope that this year you all will attempt to bring some honor back to the Gryffindor House."

"We'll try," one of the boys exclaimed proudly, practically forcing Esme to snort derisively. McGonagall glanced over at her, raised an eyebrow, and said nothing.

"Thank you, Wallace," she said. "But I haven't gathered you all here just to chastise you about behavior. This is your seventh year at Hogwarts, meaning that you must put very serious thought into your careers. Because of this, it is necessary that you spend extra time studying the subject you will pursue. Until the Christmas holiday, all of you will be spending extra time working with the professor whose class will be the main focus of your future career. For example, anyone who wishes to become an Auror will work with," she inhaled slowly, "Professor Lockhart." This time, more students than Esme let out bursts of laughter. McGonagall continued, "After Christmas you will begin fieldwork. Anyone wanting to go into Healing will be working at St. Mungo's, any future politicians will be working at the Ministry. If you are studying a certain subject," she glanced over at Esme, "then you will be teaching a class as a means to show your professor your true understanding of the subject. You will need to balance this with your NEWT work, but your schedules have been modified to fit your extra work." She quickly handed schedule cards out to the eleven students. "That is all. You may go."

Esme glanced down at her card and her stomach plummeted. "So, what do you have today?" asked Claire as they left the office and Maura headed off to Muggle Studies.

"Double Potions then Double Defense Against the Dark Arts," she said grimly.

"Same here," Claire said sympathetically. "At least we've got a free period after lunch."

"Not me," said Esme sadly. "I've got to observe one of Snape's classes and get notes from him on some draught."

Esme was good at Potions. Actually, she was great at Potions. Actually, she was really-super-amazing at Potions. She compensated for it by being rather terrible at every other subject. Because of this McGonagall had suggested that she study Potions—either to become a professor or just to master the study and art. At no time in her career planning had she told Esme that this would entail spending hours with Snape. But Snape was her absolute favorite teacher and best friend, so she didn't really mind.

Esme met Tonks outside the dungeon doors, no one even bothering to line up. She was standing with the only other Hufflepuff: Rachel Cohen, Head Girl, chaser on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, and all around sweet and friendly person. Esme could only tolerate her for about ten seconds. She was about to pull her aside when Snape swept through the crowd, opened the doors, and said coldly, "In."

Once she was settled, Esme noticed that there weren't any ingredients on the board, and Snape was just standing at the front of the class. Once everyone was quiet, he began to talk. And talk. And talk.

When Esme realized that this speech wasn't going to be short (roughly five minutes in), she distracted herself by imagining Snape tap-dancing. After half an hour, when she, along with everyone else, realized that he would be spending an entire double period discussing Potions theory, she began putting together a musical starring the Hogwarts staff. It was quite lovely, all focusing around a man (Snape) and a woman (Lockhart) who fall in love. All it was riding on was whether or not Dumbledore could sing tenor.

Finally, the bell rung and Snape said, "You may leave," and everyone woke from their daydreams and left, grumbling. Esme was the only one who stayed behind, paying a visit to her best friend.

"Hello, Snape!" she said, cheerfully sauntering up to his desk. "Aren't you excited to spend every day with me, including weekends and holidays? Because I'm super excited!"

"I'm absolutely thrilled," he said sarcastically. "Now, leave."

"No." He raised an eyebrow. "I have a proposition for you." When he said nothing she went on, "I haven't actually had a class with him yet, but I feel like Lockhart is the kind of person you hate. Since you hate him, and since you and I are so close, I've decided I hate him too, and am willing to get rid of him for a small exchange."

"Get rid of him?"

"You know, get him sacked, or make him quit. Or kill him. I guess that would work the best."

Snape paused for a moment before asking, "What is your exchange."

"You give me a really great review that gets me a job anywhere I want."

He looked at her thoughtfully, his black eyes narrowing. "You know, Ms. Slain, I think you and I may have a deal."

"Really? I didn't think you'd actually go for that."

"Surprisingly enough, I want you out of this school—and possibly country—as badly as you do."

Esme squealed and through her arms around his midsection. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I knew you were my best friend for a reason!"

"Please don't touch me," he said, pulling her off. "Ever."

A/N: Good? Bad? Utterly terrible? Please review!