Much to Snape's disgust, he'd done such an excellent job feeding Fluffy that when Hagrid couldn't get up to the school to feed the giant beast, Snape got volunteered. 'As if my days weren't bad enough', he often groused to himself, kicking a bowl of food into the room.

Much to his surprise, though, Fluffy was ready for him. His leg was grabbed by one of the heads and he was dragged into the room. He fumbled for his wand and another head (number three, possibly, it seemed the grabbier of them) snapped at the long wooden instrument.

"Mine, you crazed animal," Snape snapped, bashing head number one on the nose with fist. He managed to extricate himself from the dog and stumbled back out the door, shoving it closed with a heavy sigh.

He limped to his bedchamber and pulled up his robes. His leg was mauled quite well. He gave a sour grimace. Madame Pompfrey was taking the weekend off, naturally, so Snape limped up to the staff room and pulled out the bandages. Filch wandered by and helped him.

"Blasted thing! How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once!" he groused as Filch moved the bandage about on his wounds. Snape got the prickly feeling of being watched and looked at the door. Harry Potter's black head was ducking out of the line of sight. "Potter!" he exploded in a near panic.

Potter poked his head back in looking like the cat who got the canary. "I was just wondering if I could have my book back."

Snape remembered confiscating a book from a guilty trio of Potter, Granger and Weasley early that day. He dropped his robes over his chewed up leg. "GET OUT! OUT!" Snape shouted, beside himself.

After binding his leg up, he limped to Dumbledore's office.

"It's Hagrid's dog, let him feed it!" he growled after showing a startled Dumbledore his leg.

"One more night, Severus," wheedled Dumbledore.

"One more then," Snape relented peevishly, "but that's it. Oh, and Potter peeked into the teacher's lounge while Filch was helping me bandage. He saw and he might suspect something."

 Dumbledore only nodded as he watched Snape stalk with his ungainly limp out the door. When the door closed and Dumbledore was sure Snape was safely away, his face broke into a wide grin.

"Poor man, it's been a hard year on you, hasn't it?"

The day of the match came and Snape's mood went even further south when McGonagall offered a bet on Slytherin's chances of winning. Not wanting to seem unsupportive of his own house, Snape reluctantly agreed, though privately he knew he'd just swindled himself.

His main concern was keeping an eye on Quirrell. If Quirrell was working for Voldemort, the odds were in favor of Potter conveniently nose-diving off his newly acquired, top-of-the-line broom. As much as he detested the idea, Snape felt a certain responsibility for Potter's well being because of the debt owed to James Potter. With one eye on the field and one eye on Quirrell, Snape settled down for a miserable afternoon game of Quidditch.

Slytherin cheated repeatedly. They were old ploys that Snape had seen Slytherin use every game the house ever played. Block the opposing seeker from getting the snitch and other tricks were designed to give Slytherin the upper hand psychologically but were useless otherwise. Snape ignored the childishness of the match as team members began to bludgeon each other more than the flying balls.

He noticed Quirrell's lips begin to move and darted his black eyes to Potter up in the sky. It seemed Potter's broom wanted to play bucking bronco, bouncing around in mid-air, trying to dislodge its rider. Snape's lips thinned, quickly going through his mind like a Rolodex, discarding spell after spell to counter Quirrell's little curse. He hit upon one and began murmuring beneath his breath.

He was concentrating so hard on keeping Potter on his broom that he was startled to feel discomforting heat around his legs. He glanced down and yelped. He was on fire!

Furiously he beat the fire out of his robes and shot a glare at Quirrell, who seemed to be struggling back to his feet, his ridiculous turban askew. Quirrell had a confused look on his face and was looking to his left where Snape could just see the tip of a fuzzy brown head making its way down the benches.

Hermione Granger. Snape would bet what was left of his reputation that Granger had set him on fire. He grinned nastily. No doubt she thought he'd been the one trying to harm Potter. Either way, she accomplished her goal of saving Mr. Harry Potter. It looked like in her haste to get to him, she knocked over Quirrell, breaking the rat's concentration.

Quirrell's gaze turned to Snape and he sneered at the shaking professor. "Problems keeping your balance, Quirrell?" Snape asked blithely. "Perhaps you should keep an eye on your surroundings more?"

Quirrell said nothing but stared pointedly at Snape's singed robes. Snape flushed a bit but held Quirrell's look until the other turned away and made his way through the crowd of watchers.

"Gryffindor wins!" Lee Jordan, Gryffindor and announcer for the game, was screaming as loudly as possible the results of the game.

If Snape's mood could get any sourer, he noticed that McGonagall was heading his way. "Hang it!" he muttered.

"You owe me, Professor Snape!" crowed McGonagall.

"More than you know, Professor McGonagall," Snape snapped slamming the galleons into her palm. She gave him a quizzical look. "We need to see the headmaster. Potter's broom incident needs to be reported."

McGonagall's eyebrows knitted together. "You tell him then. I have a rowdy house to calm down." She turned on her heels and made her way through the raucous crowd to congratulate her seeker. Snape took one look at Potter's triumphant face, glasses askew on his face and green eyes shining, snorted and strode away to the school to report the whole thing to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore would no doubt be pleased that Potter was more like James every day.

Dumbledore's office had no Dumbledore but Severus recognized the person standing at the window. "Lupin."

Remus Lupin turned around, half-startled. "Oh, hello, Severus. Who won the match?"

Snape's lips pursed a moment. "Gryffindor. Potter caught the Snitch."

Lupin's mouth widened into a smile for a brief moment and then it faded. "If you're looking for Dumbledore, he'll be here in a moment."

Snape plopped down in a chair and eyed the other man warily. "What are you doing here?" he finally asked.

Lupin's eyes wandered back to the window. "Dumbledore's trying to get me to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, Severus. I've turned him down, of course. It's too dangerous for the students. I came back to make a suggestion, though."

"Oh?" said Snape. "Sirius Black, maybe?"

Lupin turned to face Snape squarely. "That was uncalled for, Severus," he said quietly. Snape flushed and looked away. "I don't think you should joke about something like that."

Snape growled, "Who said I was joking, Lupin? You don't really believe that Black killed Pettigrew, do you?"

Snape saw the war within Lupin's eyes. "I don't know, Severus." Lupin sighed and turned back to the window. "I just don't know. It's hard to believe but there were so many witnesses."

Snape rolled his eyes as Dumbledore entered the room. "Ah, Remus, Severus!" the older man chortled. "My two favorite people!"

"Headmaster," both men mumbled.

"What can I do for you two?" Dumbledore looked at them both expectantly.

"You first, Lupin," Snape invited nastily.

Lupin shot him a repressive glare. "Since I turned down your generous job offer, Professor, I thought I should at least help you find a replacement."

Dumbledore sat down in his chair and adjusted his half-moon shaped glasses. "I see. And who did you have in mind?"

Lupin's lips twitched into a smile. "Gildroy Lockhart."

Snape's jaw dropped. "No!" he burbled in outrage. "The man's a hoax. Any fool can see that!"

"True," conceded Lupin with a nod, "but the students are smart, they'll figure it out. It will give them a good basis on how to judge a wizard or witch's skill by action not bragged upon deeds."

Snape growled something not repeatable in polite company while Dumbledore considered. "I'll think about it," Dumbledore finally said. Lupin smiled and nodded, then turned to Snape to nod once politely. The door closed softly behind him. "Disappointed, Severus?" Dumbledore asked softly.

"Disgusted is the word you're looking for, Headmaster," Snape said resignedly. "I'm never going to get that position, am I?"

Dumbledore looked at him long and hard. "Perhaps one day you will," was all Dumbledore said. "Now you were going to tell me what stunt Quirrell pulled today," he continued, changing the subject.

Snape filled him in briefly and added as he finished, "Granger's too good with those little fire spells of hers."

"Yes, that's what got our attention about her to begin with. She started a small fire in her doll house's fireplace when she was younger, but the doll house didn't burn down. Quite a little talent she has there."

"A talent for trouble, you mean," growled Snape. Dumbledore only looked amused. "Anything else, Headmaster? I have juvenile delinquents to go look after."

Dumbledore's amusement faded, the twinkle in his eyes hardening. "Severus, that's no way to talk about our students."

Snape got up and stalked to the door. "You don't have to put up with Draco Malfoy's idiocy day in and day out either."

Snape was gratified to hear Dumbledore repress a chuckle as he shut the door. He was glad he wasn't the only one who thought Malfoy (either one) was a worthless git.