Disclaimer: Still nope. Definitely still nope.

Author's Note: Thank you so much for the awesome reviews! I'm really glad you enjoyed that chapter between Snape and the Malfoys. I liked writing the tension between the three of them. All the spy stuff is so interesting, and I love how a lot of authors have explored it in fanfic. There are so many different interpretations of Snape, and I love writing about him myself. There are also so many avenues of exploration for these kinds of stories, and I'm totally enthralled by them.

Okay, here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it.

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Another week had begun at Hogwarts, and Harry went on with his regular routine. Things were at a rather normal rhythm now - he ate meals in the Great Hall, went to classes, did homework, and hung out with his friends. It was the most normal he'd felt at Hogwarts this year so far.

If he said that to many people, they might call him ridiculous. After all, Hogwarts had only been in session for three weeks. But, honestly, things had been so topsy-turvy at the beginning that it felt like months had passed instead.

There was a big part of Harry that felt like he'd dreamed the first part of the year. His discovery about the fake Moody, his sudden, impromptu night at Snape's quarters, the absolute explosion in detention when he had said something that actually hurt Snape, he and Neville's talk when they had confessed things about their lives that they didn't feel comfortable telling anyone else about ... those events felt incredibly surreal, somehow. Getting back to the regular rhythm of Hogwarts didn't feel quite right, after everything that had happened.

The one interesting development was that Snape had not yet returned to his normal habit of insulting Harry at every possible moment. He and Neville had paired up in Potions when they were allowed to, and Snape took out all his anger and hatred on Neville, rather than Harry. This made the boy furious, but Neville told him bracingly not to worry about it. "I'm just glad he's laying off you," the round-faced boy had told his friend sincerely as they left the Potions classroom after another round of "let's bait Neville and continuously call him an idiot".

"But it's not fair," Harry had protested. "You didn't do anything to him. He's got no right to treat you like that."

"It's all right, Harry. I'm used to it," Neville had assured him, but Harry was far from happy. You shouldn't have to "get used" to being treated like scum by your teacher.

Harry had had no more detentions with the Potions Master since that terrible evening, and he still refused to talk to anyone about what had occurred. Eventually, Ron had stopped asking him about it, and even Hermione, though it was plain to see that she was loathe to do so, had stopped as well. Instead, they got back to their regular patterns of school life.

Harry's Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons with the real Mad-Eye Moody were interesting, to say the least. They were also disconcerting in a way that disturbed him greatly. Upon first entering his classroom, the man wore exactly the same expression as Crouch had done. When he spoke, it was with the same growling voice, and he exhibited the same mannerisms as Crouch. It was eerie, and sent shivers down Harry's spine. Was Crouch that good of an actor, or was Moody the same kind of person but just 180 degrees different? When Moody's magical eye spun around in its socket and focused on a student, Harry shuddered. He was hoping that he would like Defense this year, but Moody bothered him in a way he couldn't quite put his finger on.

It was inevitable that students would ask Moody questions about his week-long stint in his magical trunk. When they came, he answered them rather colorfully, leaving nothing out. "When a dark wizard wants to harm you, they have many tricks up their sleeve. Let's just say ... my first week at Hogwarts did not go as I planned it," he said with a harsh bark of laughter that caused several students to shiver. The laughter had a note of discordant hysteria in it that set Harry's nerve endings ablaze. "And I hear that Crouch is now rotting with the Dementors, and will never see the light of day again."

He took up where Crouch had left off in the curses department, too. The students told him that Crouch had demonstrated the Unforgivables, and Moody's response was to tell the class, "Oh, I am not at all surprised. The old boy knew me rather well - I would have done so, too, if I'd been teaching that lesson. It's not very nice, but you need to know what you're up against. You cannot live in ignorance, or you'll end up dead."

"How did Crouch catch someone like you off-guard?" Parvati had dared to ask.

Moody's magical eye spun to face her. "Even I have my weaknesses, Miss Patil," he'd barked, and said no more on the subject.

When he explained that later in the year, he'd be putting the Imperius Curse on the students to see if they could fight it off, shock didn't even begin to cover their reactions. "You're going to do WHAT?" Hermione exclaimed. "But that's illegal!"

"Well, missy, if you don't want to learn, you know where the door is," Moody sneered at her. Hermione, shocked, immediately backed down.

Harry had lain in bed that night, unable to forget Moody's face. Honestly, if he hadn't known better, he'd really have thought that Crouch was back in the classroom. He didn't hear Neville snoring, and wondered whether his friend was thinking the same thing. Harry remembered Neville saying that Moody was one of those who caught the Lestranges and Crouch torturing his parents, and he felt very cold at the memory.

As for his relationship with Malfoy, Harry tried to stay away from him as much as possible. He had to put up with him in Care of Magical Creatures, where he continued to say foul things about Hagrid, making Harry want to throttle him. Ron's facial expressions whenever he stared Malfoy down were more vicious than ever, as he was unable to forget the blond Slytherin's insult that Harry would have been willing to become a martyr just to get more attention.

Of course, there was also Potions, where they had to deal with each other as well. When Snape was in the classroom, Malfoy didn't start anything. But it was always those few minutes before Snape entered that were treacherous. It was all Harry could do to stop Ron from throwing himself on Malfoy. He just didn't want to bother with the boy's idiocy anymore. He was always snapping, snarling, and spitting nasty comments at Harry and his friends, and he took every opportunity to fling the word Mudblood at Hermione, which set Ron off every single time. "It's not worth it," Harry and Hermione would always tell the redhead. "We don't want to get in trouble with Snape again."

Thankfully, there had been no more confrontations between them where Snape had deducted points. But Harry couldn't help but notice that Malfoy's eyes focused on him more than normal these days. The looks were strange - it was like he was assessing him. He tried to be discreet so that Harry wouldn't notice, but he did. He didn't confront him on it, although he wanted to. But he didn't heed his instincts, because he was just so sick and tired of Draco Malfoy. He'd defended him during the ferret incident, and Malfoy had responded by treating him even worse.

Still, Harry didn't regret defending him. He wondered if the real Moody had found out about that incident, and whether he would have done the same thing. Harry often pondered on why Crouch had done such a thing to someone who was supposed to be on his side, but then he recalled the way the unhinged man had glowered at Snape, calling him a traitor. He remembered Crouch saying some very unflattering things about Lucius during his long, rambling confession when he'd been dosed with Veritaserum. He was livid with all the Death Eaters who had avoided an Azkaban sentence, and Harry was positive that Lucius was one of them. Therefore, he must have found the first reason he could think of to punish Draco for Lucius's transgression.

But, whatever the case may be, Harry attempted to avoid Malfoy whenever he could. He just wanted to get on with school life and pretend the beginning of the year had never happened. He wanted to think about how interesting it would be when the two other wizarding schools, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, came to Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament.

Harry was grateful that the passing of time meant that the Crouch debacle was talked about less and less. There had been the news that Barty Crouch, Sr. was now in Azkaban for keeping his son under the Imperius Curse for years and swapping him for his dying wife. Harry wondered morbidly whether he was now in the same cell as his son had been in. Considering the wizarding world's penchant for revenge and their eye for an eye attitude, Harry didn't doubt it.

But he was grateful that the talk of what had been done to Neville's parents had died down. Neville still got the occasional sympathetic look, and some questions about how he was coping with all of it, but it seemed as though Hogwarts' gossip mill had moved onto other things, such as the Triwizard Tournament. There were many lively discussions about who might be champion, and Harry heard many a strategy session in the common room from Fred, George, and their best mate Lee Jordan as they plotted ways to get past Dumbledore's age line.

And now, it was another Monday morning, and Harry and his classmates were sitting in Potions. The Slytherins sat on the other side of the room, and once again, whenever he could get away with it, Malfoy was casting Harry looks. They were definitely full of loathing, as usual, but there was a different quality to them now that sent alarm bells through Harry. Crabbe and Goyle were as gormless and stupid as ever, and Parkinson kept murmuring to Malfoy, who was completely ignoring her. This was not to her liking, and her face grew more and more pouty as Snape's lecture continued. Harry scowled at the realization that Snape was doing absolutely nothing about Parkinson talking to Malfoy in the middle of his lesson. If it had been Harry talking to Ron, Gryffindor would have lost at least fifty points by now.

There were times when it was impossible for Harry to keep Snape out of his mind. At the oddest times, he would close his eyes and be back in Snape's quarters, sleeping on the sofa that he had turned into a bed. Then, he was sitting at Snape's kitchen table, taking a bite of crispy potatoes while Snape looked uneasy and uncomfortable, telling Harry that no, he did not expect him to understand why he was suddenly being civil and not treating Harry like the dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

And Harry couldn't forget about that awful detention, either. "Get. Out." The snarled words would echo in his mind sometimes, especially when the man was partaking in his new habit of completely ignoring Harry all through class. Something had happened between them in the few seconds it had taken for Harry to spit out that the man must have hated his mother, and must have been glad to find out about her death. Now, there were no more insults, sneers, or barbs, but no civility either. Harry might as well be invisible.

Harry kept telling himself that this was perfectly okay, that it wasn't bothering him at all. He'd much rather be ignored by the dour man than be constantly compared to his father and basically told that he was a waste of air. Why, then, did it hurt when Snape's black eyes swept past Harry without any speck of emotion - not even anger or hate?

You must really want the attention, Potter, he heard Snape's sarcastic voice in his head. Do you really want me to despise you? You really are an entitled, spoiled, selfish brat.

And as Harry sat in Potions now, he batted away all the thoughts that consumed him whenever he was in this class these days. Snape was talking about poisons again, explaining how to brew different types of antidotes. They had had some practical lessons about this, and to Snape's displeasure, not many of the students got their potions correct. Only Hermione and Malfoy seemed to make any progress, and Harry did feel supremely irked when Snape praised Malfoy's potion and sneered at Hermione's, even though they looked just about the same.

"Now, you will listen to me," Snape drawled, the tone of his voice brooking no argument. "I will not repeat myself. I have been completely appalled by the lack of skill from this class. If any of you are poisoned, Merlin help you. I assure you, many of you would be in your death throes, because you have no capacity for this delicate kind of work. Brewing an antidote requires a certain ... finesse, which does not involve playing nonsensical card games or flying around on a broomstick."

Harry was aware that normally, if Snape made a comment like this, his eyes would meet Harry's, and he would give him a disgusted sneer. But today, Snape's eyes remained on the chalkboard. He did, in fact, sneer, but it wasn't at Harry.

"Therefore," Snape continued, "I am assigning a Potions project that will occupy you for the rest of the term. This is to be studied on your own time, and you will brew the proper potion in our last class before Christmas." He looked out at the class, and smirked. "I imagine that once you hear what I am requiring of you, your free time will very, very quickly ... slip away."

Several of the Gryffindors groaned, and Snape's smirk widened. "It is up to you," he said nastily. "If you end up ever being affected by one or more of these poisons, and you are lying there in agony with toxins running through your veins, you may very well wish you paid more attention in my class."

Ron glowered at Snape. "I bet he wouldn't be at all disappointed if we all kicked the bucket," he murmured angrily.

Snape was on Ron like a shot. It wasn't clear if he'd heard what Ron said, but the glare he leveled on him made Harry certain he had. "Ten points from Gryffindor for interrupting my class with your needless babble, Weasley," he sneered. Ron clamped his mouth shut, his face turning red as he glared so hard at Snape that Harry thought his face might freeze that way. Harry was miffed, too - Snape had proven his point exactly about the way he treated someone like Ron versus the way he treated Malfoy. It was so bloody unfair.

"Now that Mr. Weasley has decided to close his mouth, I will tell you what your assignments will be. You will each have a partner, and you will spend time studying the different poisons that have been used throughout the history of the wizarding world. I warn you, some of them may ..." He smirked again. "Turn your sensitive stomachs, making meals in the Great Hall not to your taste," he said with relish.

Get on with it, Harry thought snidely. Quit with the melodrama, Snape. Just tell us what we have to do and be done with it.

"I have already spoken with Madam Pince, and she is aware that all of you will be allowed to go to the Restricted Section. But I am warning you that if you attempt to study anything that is not to do with your Potions assignment, she, and I, will know about it." His eyes swivelled to Hermione, giving her a nasty look. "This will make certain that any student who attempts to be a nosy little know-it-all will lose that opportunity very quickly," he drawled.

Hermione's face blanched, and Ron's turned red with anger again. Harry glared at Snape, but the man didn't meet his eyes. Thankfully, Ron said nothing, but if looks could kill, Snape would be a pile of ashes on the floor. Even Neville was glaring at his teacher, too. There was absolutely no need to hurl something like that at Hermione.

"So," Snape continued in a low, silken voice, "when you step into the Restricted Section, you will find many books on poisons. You will find the list of ingredients for the poison you choose, and you will study what each of those ingredients does. Then, you will develop an antidote on your own. You will write an essay on how each ingredient in the antidote counters the ingredients that are in the poison. And when the delightful time comes that most of you, I am sure, will hand me your subpar assignments, you will brew your antidotes."

Harry sighed. It would be time-consuming, and he wasn't at all enthused about finding out what diabolical poisons witches and wizards had cooked up over the years, but all in all, the project didn't sound too bad. He looked at Neville and gave the frightened, nervous boy a smile. Neville had certainly grown in confidence, but Potions was when it all seemed to fall away again. Harry had been doing his best to reassure him that he would be able to brew a potion correctly, and he was always grateful when he was allowed the chance to partner with the other boy in class.

Neville smiled back at him, and it was sealed. He and Harry would be partnering up for this project as well.

But he should have known that Snape had a nasty trick up his sleeve. "No, Longbottom. I do not think so," he drawled lazily as he caught the silent interaction between Neville and Harry. "You will not be working with Potter. He will not be truthful to you about your certain ... lack of potions skills." His eyes were chips of black ice, and his face was full of malice. "None of you will be choosing your partners," he said very, very softly, enjoying the trepidation of the students. "I will."

Harry knew what was coming before Snape had even said it. He knew exactly who the man would be putting him with, and he wanted to argue. He did not want to spend any extra time with the smug, smirking, horrid, blond tosser.

And Snape confirmed it all too soon, his mouth seeming to caress the words as he met Harry's eyes for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. "Potter, you will be working with Malfoy," he drawled.

Harry turned to look at the Slytherin, who smirked at him the instant their eyes met. Harry felt his heart sink down to his toes - this was going to be an extremely unpleasant experience.

Blessedly, the bell rang minutes later, and Harry hurriedly packed up his stuff to leave. He and his friends exited the classroom within thirty seconds, only to bump into Malfoy and his goons who were standing in the hallway.

"Shove off, Malfoy," Ron said mutinously, his face livid. "You're blocking the hallway."

"Tough, Weasel Bee. I wanted a word with Potter here," Malfoy drawled. "Can't he go anywhere without his little sidekicks?"

"Listen, Malfoy," Neville said, his voice uncharacteristically harsh. "You're not going to spend the next few months being horrible to Harry."

"Oh, and I suppose he'll have to answer to YOU if he is, Longbottom? What are YOU going to do about it, squib?" sneered Parkinson, while Crabbe and Goyle let out sycophantic chuckles of laughter as they cracked their knuckles.

"Don't you dare say that to Neville! He has more magic in his pinkie finger than you do in your entire body, you ... you ..." Hermione growled. She and Parkinson, like Harry and Malfoy, had hated each other on sight, and that had never changed in the years since they'd entered Hogwarts' hallowed halls.

"That's enough," Harry told all of them. "What do you want, Malfoy?" he asked tiredly, unwilling to get into another verbal sparring match today.

"If you want to get any of this project done, you'll meet me in the library after dinner," Malfoy drawled at him. "Is that understood?"

"Yes, Malfoy. It's understood," Harry said. He was not going to argue, or draw this discussion out for longer than it needed to be.

Malfoy looked rather surprised that Harry had agreed so readily, and then he smirked. "Good," he said simply.

Harry sighed, knowing how this would go. Malfoy would ask Harry to do all the work. Malfoy would treat him like a servant, asking him to get this book and that book. He wouldn't be cooperative at all, and it would be Harry's project, not Harry's and Malfoy's project. He'd be stuck doing everything while Malfoy sat back in his chair like a pampered little prince.

But as he commiserated with his friends on the way to their next class, Harry was resolute that he would make this as painless as it possibly could be. Now was the time for him to test his patience and his endurance. Snape had had the gall to put him and Malfoy together, and it was the last thing Harry wanted.

Harry couldn't understand the man. He couldn't understand the man at all. For a wild, paranoid moment, he thought the Potions Master must have an ulterior motive. There was no doubt that Ron would think so, if he suggested such a thing in his vicinity. But hadn't Harry spent the last few years suspecting Snape of all and sundry?

He was a Death Eater, a tiny part of his mind said. You learned that on the night of Crouch's confession.

But Crouch said he was a traitor to the cause, another part of his mind argued. And it's a bloody Potions assignment. Must you accuse him of everything under the sun?

"He put me with PARKINSON!" Hermione's high-pitched, indignant shriek pulled Harry out of his musings. "I can't STAND it!"

"And I have to work with bloody Goyle," Ron snarled. "Fat lot of good he'll do me."

"And I'm with Crabbe," Neville said miserably. "This is going to be horrible."

Harry allowed himself to get lost in the banter between him and his friends as they debated who had it the worst. He decided not to ponder on Snape's motives any further. It was a stupid, bloody Potions assignment, that was all, and it was such a Snape thing to do - to make sure his Gryffindor students were the most unhappy that they could be.

He definitely wasn't looking forward to this evening, when he would be sitting in the library with Malfoy, of all people. It wouldn't be long before he would have to partake in house-elf duties, he thought as exhaustion and irritation swept over him.

But he would prevail. This was yet one more hurdle being thrown at him, and Harry Potter had experienced too many of those to not know what to do. It was just Malfoy, after all - an egotistical, smug, arrogant little twerp.

It couldn't be THAT bad ... could it?