Snape's stomach coiled as he waited for his class with Potter to arrive. Potter…he knew that wasn't his name, but it was comforting to think of him that way. It was like an old worn shoe that chafed in just the right places. This new one…with his name, and his eyes…he left Snape feeling raw and exposed. There was something infuriating about those calm, knowing eyes.

But there was nothing calm about the boy who walked through the door just before class began. His hair was more rumpled than usual, and he was scratching at his palms. His eyes darted to the sides of the room, as if looking for a window to jump out of. Snape moved surreptitiously closer as Ron Weasley settled in beside Potter.

"Better give your dad a hug before class. I'm sure he'll appreciate that," said Ron.

Snape couldn't repress a shudder.

"At last my dad doesn't muck about with hula hoops and roller skates," said Harry, "and call it a job."

Ron reddened and slammed his books on the table. Hermione gave them both a reproachful look, but kept her lips firmly pressed together as she sat on the other side of Harry.

"That'll do, Mr. Weasley." Snape said, despite himself. His eyes brushed over Potter before he returned to the front of the room. "Unless you are aspiring for a detention before class has even started."

Ron uttered a strangled growl and went for his cauldron. Snape could sense Harry's gaze boring into him, but determinedly ignored it. He started class, following his usual method of a question-filled lecture to point out their ignorance, accompanied by dire warnings if they did not rectify their ignorance immediately. For once, the children were blessedly quiet, although Weasley and Potter kept banging equipment and giving each other glares with grating regularity. Snape's tolerance snapped, and he fell on his time-tested technique for getting teenagers to behave: capitalize on their terror of being humiliated.

"Potter," he said sharply, and was gratified to see Potter startled out of the glare he was giving Weasley. The boy looked up at him. "Since you consider my lecture unworthy of your attention," a faint blush appeared on the boy's cheeks. Good. "perhaps you would like to educate the class on the proper brewing procedure for strengthening potion?"

Potter's eyes whizzed over the ingredients listed on the board. "Counterclockwise in wide loops until it turns a chalky white color, Sir."

The boy must have actually done the reading. Snape cursed silently to himself and tried to think of details that weren't covered by the text. "And if it turns a dark green instead?" He waited for the flush and angry scowl that always preceded Potter's admission that he didn't know the answer.

The boy, however, merely tilted his head in thought. "Too much wormwood, I'd say."

He wrinkled his brow in annoyance. "And the remedy for too much wormwood?"

"A sprig of fresh heather, cut before morning dew."

Snape clicked his tongue. "If heather is out of season?"

"Dried black swallow-wort, grown in soil laced with dragon eggshell."

His temples were throbbing again. "And what are the properties of swallow-wort?"

The frazzled look Potter had been wearing faded, and he grinned. "African or European swallow-wort?"

Some of the other Gryffindors were grinning as well, and Snape decided he'd had enough. "Ten points from Gryffindor for cheek and for trying to show up your teacher," he said.

"And succeeding," someone muttered, but Snape didn't catch the transgressor. However, he was gratified to see that Potter's frazzled look had returned.

"Points?" the boy asked. "First time for everything, I suppose." That remark got him a jab in the ribs from Granger. He looked at her, and then noticed several classmates staring at him in puzzlement. "Ah…I mean, first time this month." More stares. "First time today?" he asked in astonishment.

Snape decided to ignore both the comments and Potter and returned to his lecture. He relaxed marginally as he picked up the rhythm of his speech. Really, teaching would be far more pleasant if it weren't for the students.

When he set the students to brewing, he heard the scrape of wood against the gritty stone floor as Potter got up from his seat. Out of the corner of his eye he saw him move toward the shelf of ingredients. Snape made a show of checking students' progress as he observed Potter, who passed by Malfoy.

"What's gotten into Weasley?" Malfoy asked. The blond boy smirked. "Did his parents tell him his clothes were third-hand instead of second-hand?"

Harry showed none of the tell-tale signs of anger he usually displayed when confronting Malfoy. In fact, a curious stillness had settled on the boy, much like what Snape observed in himself when he was repressing particularly volatile emotions. Malfoy seemed stymied by this lack of response.

"But at least he's got parents," continued Malfoy. "What's it feel like to have parents too stupid to get out of the Dark Lord's way?"

Snape sucked in his breath between his teeth.

Harry blinked at him, as though coming to a sudden realization. "It feels better than having parents who will serve him without a second thought. What does that feel like, Malfoy? All that money, and you're still just a bunch of glorified house elves."

Malfoy stumbled back as though he'd been lashed. "The Dark Lord…" He stopped, seeing that a few Slytherins and Gryffindors were listening in, and Snape realized he'd been caught. If he denied it, he was declaring defiance to Voldemort. If he said his parents were rewarded by the Dark Lord, he would be openly admitting they were Death Eaters. "One day, you'll wish he'd finished you off when you were a baby," muttered Malfoy, turning away. Harry simply reached for his jar of ingredients and strode away, frowning only when he got near Weasley.

"Catching up with your best mate?" said Ron as Harry set his cauldron on the table.

"Actually, it just hit me that I don't have to be nice to him here. Bit freeing, really."

"So you're not real mates, you just try to be his toady for political favors? You learn that from your dad?"

"I'd say I'm a better judge of friends than you. Gotten any new pets lately?"

"Mr. Weasley," Snape said warningly.

"It was him," muttered Ron.

"I'm not averse to giving both of you detention," he said. He met Harry's eyes, and said emphatically, "I suggest you be as unobtrusive as possible."

Harry gave the barest nod, and Snape relaxed slightly. He did not have any further trouble from the boy until an hour later, when Snape was deriding Longbottom's final product.

"I twice mentioned that only the leaves of the Hawthorne are to be included. Can you not remember even that simple fact?"

"It's not his fault," he heard someone growl, and turned to see Harry glaring at him.

"I didn't ask for your opinion, Potter."

"You could help him if you wanted to."

"He could help himself, if he tried. If he merely paid attention, his aggravating tendency to forget would--"

"It's not that simple, and you know it. She tries every day, but she still needs our help."

Snape stopped breathing. The boy had spoken of her in the middle of class, in front of the staring eyes of twenty other students. "Be silent," he hissed, his heart pounding.

The boy's eyes glistened, and after a moment, he looked down.

"She?" said Longbottom. "Who are you talking about?"

Snape rounded on him, slamming his palms down on the table in front of Longbottom. "Do you wish to challenge me as well?"

Longbottom went pale and shook his head.

Snape desperately wished to fail Potter that day, but the blasted boy had made his potion perfectly.