Slytherin could trounce Hufflepuff. There was no question of that. The problem was whether or not Slytherin could smash Gryffindor. Snape found he just couldn't bear the thought of losing the house cup to Gryffindor, especially with Potter around, so he decided psychological warfare was the best course of action. He took extra time to devote to harassing Potter, hoping that he could make the Gryffindor seeker such a nervous wreck by the time the match came that Potter would fumble the whole thing.

He should have known better. Like his father before him, Harry Potter was made of sterner stuff.

Any hope of further irritating Potter was quashed when Dumbledore came to watch the game as well. While it was a sure sign that Quirrell wouldn't be trying any tricks against Potter, it was also a sure sign that Snape couldn't ignore any fouls against Gryffindor. Sure he'd been planning on looking the other way a couple of times but it hurt a bit to know that maybe Dumbledore didn't trust him.

The match started and Snape kept a close eye on the players. As the quaffles and bludgers sped around the field, Snape totally missed Potter careening toward him at a reckless pace. His back to Potter, he got a prickly sensation on the back of his neck and turned just in time to almost be bowled over by the Gryffindor seeker in hot pursuit of the fluttering gold Snitch.

Snape grabbed the handle of his broom and was about to blow the whistle (he could get away with, it was almost attempted murder!) when the stands erupted as Potter held up the Snitch. The crowd surged from the stands to cheer Gryffindor's success and Snape felt his stomach drop as Potter actually gave him what could almost pass as a semi-apologetic look.

The mere idea that Harry Potter, little orphan Harry, might feel pity for him made Snape see red. Dumbledore approached and put his hands on Potter's shoulder. "Well done," he heard Dumbledore say to Harry. "Nice to know you haven't been brooding about that mirror...been keeping busy...excellent."

Snape spat on the ground in disgust. The man he considered more of a father than his own father felt the same paternal affection for Harry. The idea of being considered a brother figure in anyone's eyes with Harry Potter was enough to make Snape want to scream to the heavens.

He stalked off the field. "Potter! Potter! Potter!" he exclaimed to himself. "It's always blasted Potter! Either one!" Snape stalked up the steps and stumbled into Quirrell. An idea immediately formed in his head. It was time for action on another field. He was tired of this sneaking around.

"Hello, S-Severus," Quirrell stammered. "Is the match over already?"

"Why yes, Quirrell," Snape's put some ooze into his words. "The Gryffindor seeker has a keen eye and he spotted the Snitch early in the game. They're celebrating now."

Quirrell's eyes beamed brightly a moment before fading to a terrified dull sheen. "Good for Harry," he mumbled and then winced as if he'd been struck.

"I need to talk to you privately, Quirrell," Snape said dropping his voice. "I suspect something going on in the school and I need someone in my confidence I can trust."

Quirrell seemed to freeze, his eyes widening like a trapped animal. "V-very w-well, S-Severus. Where?"

Snape smiled congenially, turning on the charm. It wasn't something he did often. McGonagall said it gave her the willies. "The edge of the Forbidden Forest. I want to make sure we aren't overheard. There are untrustworthy ears around."

Quirrell's eyes went wider. "O-oh," he stuttered. "I-in a f-few m-moments then."

Snape gave a sharp nod and hurried in. He needed something. If he was going up against one of the Dark Lord's servants it wouldn't hurt to have extra protection. He ran down to the dungeon classroom where he held potions and grabbed a couple of bottles off the shelf. Taking a deep breath he swallowed one, grimacing at the bitter taste and pocketed the other. The potion he swallowed should effectively keep him alive for a bit should Quirrell somehow decide to kill him. Keep him alive long enough to tell Dumbledore. The other potion he could toss on Quirrell to help enhance the stasis curse. While not the best of protection it was the best Snape could do on short notice.

He left the dungeon and broke into a run as soon as he exited the front doors. He was unaware he'd picked up a tagalong in the form of Harry Potter.

At the edge of the Forbidden Forest, he found Quirrell patiently waiting for him. "Ah, Professor Quirrell, been sneaking about the halls much lately?"

Quirrell stilled. "What are y-you talking about? I d-don't know why you wanted t-to meet me here of all p-places, Severus..."

Snape's insides twisted as his arm began to burn. His suspicions were true! He could feel the proof burning into his arm. The Dark Mark tattoo only came to life when close to Voldemort!

"Oh I thought we'd keep this private," he sneered in an icy tone, his heart hammering. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Philosopher's Stone after all."

Quirrell paled and mumbled, "Oh. But, S-Severus, I haven't told..."

"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?" Snape interrupted Quirrell's pitiful attempt at a denial.

"B-b-but, Severus, I.." Quirrell looked terrified but Snape knew he wasn't afraid of him. There was another power more intimidating than Snape that had Quirrell shaking in his robes.

Snape tried a bluff, hoping that his siding with Dumbledore would sway Quirrell somehow. "You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," he said taking a menacing step toward the quaking professor, hoping to further intimidate him.

Quirrell was shaking like a leaf, his beady eyes darting around for an escape route. "I-I don't know what you..."

"You know perfectly well what I mean," Snape snapped irritably. This charade was going to far. He felt a tendril of magic sweep over him and felt dizzy a moment. His head cleared quickly though and his lips curled into sneer. "You're going to have to do better than that. I can counter your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting."

Quirrell swallowed, intimidated but unsure what to do. "B-but I d-d-don't..."

Snape's patience snapped and he had to leave before he strangled the traitor. "Very well," he stated repressively. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had the time to think things over and decide where your loyalties lie." He pulled his cloak hood back over his head and stalked from the little clearing at the edge of the forest.

Inside he was fuming. He knew Quirrell was lying and was hiding some important information about Voldemort. He knew Quirrell was going after the Philosopher's Stone but he had no idea how far through the traps Quirrell had gotten.

He'd just have to try again.

The following weeks proved unenlightening. Dumbledore had frowned at the risk Snape took in confronting Quirrell so openly but Snape had scoffed. If he could defect against Lord Voldemort and live to tell about it, Quirrell was a walk in the park.

Each time, though, when he tried to weasel information out of Quirrell, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor managed to wiggle off the hook. Snape grew frustrated at his lack of information and Quirrell began to look paler and thinner as time went by.

Snape was beginning to think that nothing good was going to happen to him in the next few months when Professor McGonagall pounded on his door late one night, Draco Malfoy being held up by the scruff of his neck.

"This," she spat, "belongs to you!" She ceremoniously dumped Malfoy on the floor in front of a startled Snape. "He was saying that he was trying to catcher Potter, Weasley and Granger sneaking around after hours in the owlry. I suggest you do something with him and I'm taking twenty points from Slytherin!"

She turned sharply on her heel and stomped away, leaving Snape scowling at her back before turning his scowl on the rumpled Malfoy git on the floor. "Well?" he asked repressively.

For once Draco actually looked chagrinned, but Snape knew it wouldn't last long. "Professor," the brat began, "Potter, Weasley and Granger are hiding a dragon that belongs to that Hagrid. They were going to sneak it up to the owlry so that some friends of one of the Weasleys could fly it away so that lummox wouldn't get into trouble!"

'Typical,' Snape thought to himself. He smiled nastily down at Draco, who actually looked a bit worried. "So instead of reporting it..."

"I did report it! To Mr. Filch!" Draco protested.

Snape's black eyes blazed angrily and Draco subsided his protests with a satisying squeak of fright. "So instead of reporting it to a teacher," thundered Snape, "you snuck around yourself and told Mr. Filch. Now you've lost Slytherin twenty points and those three probably aren't going to get caught! Very smart, Mr. Malfoy. Another five points from Slytherin and GO TO BED!"

Draco Malfoy sped away so fast he might as well have disapparated. Satisfied that he'd actually managed to torment a Malfoy, Snape went to bed, unaware of the rest of the night's events.