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"Before we begin today's lesson," Snape said, sweeping over to his desk and staring around at them all, "I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an 'Acceptable' in your OWL, or suffer my... displeasure."

His gaze lingered on Neville, who felt that familiar fear springing up inside him, but he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, calming himself. As Harry said, fear would build more fear, and get in the way of his work. It was better to simply nip the problem in the bud and focus on the task at hand.

"After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me," Snape went on. "I take only the very best into my NEWT Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying good-bye."

His eyes rested on Harry, then Neville, and a few other Gryffindors. Neville glared back. He'd show him. He'd get an O in his OWL, and show Snape that he wasn't the dunderhead the greasy-haired Potions master believed him to be. Feeling that he was getting angry, another feeling that got in the way of work, Neville tried to calm himself down, and looked to Harry, who was staring back at Snape with a calm, almost curious and inquisitive look on his face, a look that looked eerily like Professor Dumbledore's. How often had Neville wished that he had the same control over his emotions as Harry had?

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7487494/3/