Chapter Three

A/N: Thanks, as always, for the brilliant beta work of Bambu345.

As per the terms set by the Ministry for Magic, Hermione Granger entered the classroom precisely five minutes before the beginning of class and administered a dose of Veritaserum to Severus Snape. There was no question that it was properly brewed to full potency and effectiveness; Hermione had made sure of that by having Severus brew it himself.

The first meeting of the special potions NEWT preparatory class had been long in the planning. Other preparatory classes, set up for those who had either missed or been distracted during their seventh year due to the war, had been in progress for some time. With the repairs having been completed over the summer, Hogwarts Castle had plenty of extra classrooms, and there was no shortage of volunteers to serve as instructors.

It was, however, January already, and the examinations were scheduled for March. There was a great deal of material to be covered in a very short time. (There were some who thought to ask why another Potions teacher had not been found, one who could begin the work earlier, maybe even one who was less of an evil, greasy git. For reasons that have never been adequately explained, no one ever asked that question twice.)

In return for being excused from the twenty-four-hour-per-day, seven-day-a-week watch, Severus had agreed to some rather unusual restrictions on his teaching style. Above and beyond the Veritaserum.

"So we can get away with anything we like in here, can we?" Draco asked as he deliberately spilled an entire container of lacewing flies into his cauldron.

As the potion bubbled over, spilling onto the desk and flowing onto the floor, Professor Snape replied, "That is true. In here."

Draco sat back in his chair and smirked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The professor went to the supply closet and fetched a bucket, sponges and a mop. He began cleaning the mess by hand, slowly and meticulously. "Not only can I not prevent you from foolish behavior, I am likewise incapable of requiring that you clean up after yourself. When you make a mess, I will clean it. The more time that I waste cleaning up your little messes, the less instruction the entire class will receive. I am not in a position to discipline you, nor do I have the power to reduce your grades. However, the NEWT examiners are under no such restrictions. I was under the impression that some of you had reason to wish to pass those exams."

"That almost sounded like a threat, Snape," Draco drawled. He turned to Hermione. "Are you going to let him get away with that?" The students had all been informed that Hermione alone was entitled to enforce the Ministry directives. Draco was not the only one eager to find out exactly what that meant and whether they'd be allowed to watch.

"All I heard was a simple recital of the facts. It is hardly Professor Snape's responsibility to shield you from the harsh realities of life," she replied primly.

"Merlin's balls, Granger," Draco grumbled. "The man spends years tormenting you, and now you've got him under your thumb, you don't even use it. Figures a bloody Gryffindor'd find a way to take all the fun out of a perfect set up."

"The last time I checked, Malfoy," she replied snappishly, "you owed him your life. It seems to me that we all owe the professor a little respect."

If she had expected any sort of acknowledgement from the professor under discussion, she would have been disappointed. Fortunately for her, she hadn't expected it.

When the mess was cleaned, the lesson resumed. This time, the lacewing flies were carefully measured. "Can anyone explain why an excess of lacewing flies causes an explosive reaction?"

As usual, Hermione raised her hand.

"No one? Pity."

As Severus turned to the chalkboard, Neville called out, "Why didn't you call on Hermione? Her hand was up."

Severus whirled back to face Neville. "Tell me, Mr. Longbottom. Is there the smallest shred of doubt in your mind that Miss Granger knows the answer?"

"No. Of course she does." Neville managed to look perplexed rather than terrified, which demonstrated considerable personal growth on his part, though he did hunch his shoulders just a smidge. "Hermione always knows the answers."

"Precisely. There is nothing to be gained by calling on Miss Granger. When I ask questions in my classroom, it is to ascertain what, if anything, the rest of you know." With his usually flourish, he turned back to the board to write out (by hand) the citations for looking up the properties of lacewing flies. Being unable to assign essays was not going to make him hand them information they were perfectly capable of looking up for themselves. Not that day, anyway.

Hermione never raised her hand again in his class. The following week, however, at the end of a particularly accident-ridden double session, when no one could answer Professor Snape's question about the importance of the freshness of hellebore root, instead of giving them citations and sending them to the library, he shook his head and said, "Then perhaps Miss Granger will be so kind as to explain it to you ... ill-informed ... children."

Despite Draco's repeated whining, Hermione had refused to expand the official list of "demeaning epithets not to be used in the classroom." Not that Severus Snape needed them. Being unable to use terms like "dunderheads" or "idiots" was hardly enough to crimp the professor's inimitable style. Severus was perfectly capable of injecting sufficient invective into terms like "children" and "adolescents" to make them sound like curses. True disdain he expressed in question forms, which neatly evaded the whole Veritaserum problem. He could reduce Neville to a quivering mass merely by asking, "How it is possible that a fine upstanding wizard such as yourself can feed himself, if he cannot manage to manoeuver a bare teaspoon's worth of Billywig parts into a cauldron without spilling half of it? Hmm? Do you require help getting your food into your mouth? Or do you simply stick your face in the bowl?"

Draco cringed every time he was asked how he ever expected to accomplish the monumental task of restoring the tarnished Malfoy name if he couldn't even manage to follow simple written directions. However he tried, though, Severus simply could not manage to bother Harry.

"Is this the best that our great and revered hero can accomplish? One must wonder how you managed to achieve such an exalted position in our society with such meager abilities. Tell me, Mr. Potter, have you ever accomplished anything on your own, or are all your greatly vaunted deeds the results of the interventions of others?" When Harry's only response was a happy smile, Severus felt compelled to ask, "Is there something that amuses you about this situation, Potter?"

"Yes, sir."

"Really? And would you care to share it with the rest of us? I, for one, am sorely in need of having my spirits lifted lest I weep at the abysmal failures of the younger generation."

Draco mouthed the word "abysmal" hopefully at Hermione, but she just shook her head. The professor hadn't, technically, called any of them abysmal, so it didn't count as an insult. Hermione was stickler for the letter of the law, and Severus knew exactly how to skirt its boundaries without ever crossing them.

It is doubtful whether any punishment Hermione might have meted out would have had quite as devastating an effect on Severus as Harry's reply to his question. "I'm just happy to have you back, sir. Every time you find a way to demean us, I'm reminded that we almost lost you. It tickles me to be able to hear you rant again."

Happy? Tickles? His attempts to chastise the little fools were a source of joy and amusement? Severus continued to find ways to berate his students, but from that moment on, his heart was never really in it.

Perhaps it was that, the change in attitude, the gentler (no, Severus Snape was still not gentle) the less-harsh (yes, that would do) professor that emboldened Neville Longbottom to attempt something that had never been tried.

"How should I have done it?"

The entire class froze. No one had ever dared to actually ask Professor Snape for instruction before. One muddled along as best as one could and counted on Hermione to explain things later. Or looked it up. Deliberately attracting Professor Snape's attention in class was asking for trouble. Doing so when he had just criticized your work was nothing less than suicidal. At least, it had been in the past. There really wasn't much of anything that he could do anymore beyond blustering.

The Veritaserum compelled the professor to answer anything he was asked, though it did permit him to sneer as he demonstrated the correct technique.

The next day, Lavender asked for help with her titration, and Ron asked whether he should try a different grip on his stirring rod.

One week later, Hermione arrived for class with Ron and Neville and took her seat.

"Miss Granger?"

"Yes, Professor Snape."

"Have you, perhaps, forgotten something?"

"No, Professor Snape. I don't believe I have."

Under her watchful eye, the professor continued to answer their questions, even without the compulsion of Veritaserum.

...

The rest of the class was off to the Leaky to celebrate the end of their NEWTs, but Hermione had something she needed to take care of first.

Arriving at Spinner's End, she found Severus (and she felt free to call him Severus again, now that he was no longer her teacher) no more hospitable or cheerful than he had been on any of her prior visits. She did, however, take it as a positive sign when she saw a book on the side table. Reading implied an interest in ... well, an interest anyway. It had to be an improvement over staring out the window and sulking.

"I thought you'd like to know that the examiners said we'd all done well. They seemed very impressed."

He settled into his chair and rested his elbows on its arms, tenting his fingers in front of him. "I fail to see what concern it is of mine how you or your fellow students perform on your exams. My obligation ends when the classroom door closes."

"You were a really good teacher once you stopped your usual bullying. You should go back to it." She thought she might have managed to suppress the pleading tone in her words. Maybe.

"Let me assure you, Miss Granger, that, given the choice, I would prefer to spend quality time with Nagini than ever set foot in a Potions classroom again. I have fulfilled the terms of your conditions. May I take it that my subjugation to your whims is now at an end?"

She stiffened. "Not quite. My original concerns still hold; you have not convinced me that you are reconciled to your continued existence."

"Oh, I intend to live a very long time," he snarled, "if only to have the satisfaction of proving that, in this one instance, the all-knowing Hermione Granger got it wrong."

If he insisted on continuing the hostilities, he would not find her wanting. "Yes, but you would say that, wouldn't you? Whether it was true or not."

"You have access to the very highest quality of Veritaserum. I can brew another batch if your supply has run low."

Hermione gingerly took the seat opposite his and adopted her now-familiar condescendingly sweet tone. "Did you know that there has never been a test to determine if it's possible to build up a resistance to Veritaserum? In fact, I can't find a single record of a case where anyone was exposed to it more than a few times. Until now, of course. It is entirely possible that it no longer works on you. And your comment about preferring to meet Nagini over returning to work, that's not exactly promising, is it?"

"What more do you want from me?" he growled.

"Not much. You will be allowed to make your own choices from now on, live your own life, but there will be regular checks to see how you're doing. Consider it parole."

"Let me guess. My parole officer will be ... hmmm ... who might be willing to take on such a task? Could it possibly be ... yourself, Miss Granger?"

She smiled. "Weekly meetings, Severus. Shall we say, Wednesdays? I'm starting work at the Ministry of Magic, so it will have to be in the evenings."