Severus paused, his quill hovering over the slip of parchment listing the Hogwarts electives. His mother had insisted Arithmancy was far too difficult for an idiot such as her son, and his father believed all magic was aimed at turning Muggles into newts; learning some of the fundamentals of magic while proving both wrong held a great deal of appeal. He put a small tick beside the class title. But what of the other subjects? Ancient Egyptian, Divination, Latin, Muggle Studies, Magical Creatures, Practical Home Magic, Runes. Well.

He could consider the future, whatever it might be. None of those stood out as the key to advancement any more than the others. That left less well-founded ways to choose a class. He knew he wanted to be as far from the dungeons as possible, as often as possible. After two winters in Slytherin House, he had reached a conclusion. Hell might or might not exist, but if it did, it held no fires. It was stony and damp, with chill breezes at unexpected moments and cold toilet seats. Practical Home Magic was conveniently next to the kitchens, and therefore warm, but didn't seem to particularly suit him. Divination? Magical Creatures? Both?

There were other considerations, of course. He let himself sink into the hubbub of the Great Hall at breakfast until the voices he sought came clear. It helped that they never would learn to speak in anything other than a shout.

"How about Muggle Studies?" said Black. "Help me hack off my parents."

"Would it help me get that joke Evans told about the -- electrician -- and the barmaid?" Potter asked. Severus stored away a smile for later, wondering if it was the one he knew and doubting it. Evans seemed rather a good girl in his convention-limited contact with her.

Lupin laughed. "Maybe."

"I'm game."

They did everything together; they could waste their time together for all of him. Muggle Studies was off-limits to any sensible Slytherin and furthermore something of a joke. After a few years of study, Potter would probably still not understand the one about the 'eckeltrician,' as Professor Laburnum would have it, and the barmaid. So far they had ruled out nothing for Severus.

"And Magical Creatures?" Lupin said hopefully.

Blast. Lupin did have an almost legendary fondness for bringing in all sorts of odd fauna and claiming the things were pets. McGonagall had relayed them to Professor Kettleburn or Hagrid so far, and the Hogwarts letters at the beginning of each term were getting rather specific on what constituted a pet. However, this class was still fairly high on Severus' preferences. Perhaps the others would dislike the idea.

"Outdoorsy."

"Energetic."

"Probably not too hard." Pettigrew, of course. He was the hardest to hear of the lot, though that said very little. His voice was a mere squawk, parrotlike, among the bellows.

"And best of all -- Snape avoidence. Could you really picture Snivellus in there?" Sirius barked a laugh.

Severus stored a sneer beside the earlier smile, also for later, and let his quill hesitate over the option under debate. Would they recognize him in his summer escapes from his parents? Making himself useful around his uncle's farm in all the ways a soft-voiced and slender-fingered lad could? Probably not. Potter, at least, should know better from their flying lessons -- brooms could be a great deal like horses, and Severus had told him so -- but if Potter remembered, he wasn't saying. With riding came bridling, saddling, feeding, grooming, and mucking stalls, because all good things had their costs; Severus was experienced in animal care.

He needed to make some sort of choice himself and soon. Slughorn was collecting the slips from the other third-year Slytherins, chatting with his favourites, and while he could be expected to leave Severus for last he still wouldn't take forever. On the one hand, the class would put Severus outdoors often, and in a pleasantly airy and well-lit room the rest of the time. On the other, by the sound of things he'd be with them. On yet another -- too many hands. Well, the four Gryffindors rarely put theirs to good use, so he might as well. On Black's great clumsy animal-frightening paw, it might be rather fun to watch the foursome discover that animals were contrary, difficult, and did not like loud voices and sudden movements. On the other paw, would it fit Severus for any career he actually would want?

Moving on to Pettigrew's stubby and highly bitable finger-collection to consider those careers, magical creatures tended to donate their parts to potions-making, and it would be wise to know as much of them as possible, just as he was learning Herbology for the same purposes. Too, he might yet find himself on Uncle Jeremiah's farm for good someday, so that too was a career to keep in mind. And on that other stubby hand, it would also be fun to watch Pettigrew trying to manage a knarl. All right; four in favour, two against, so far.

Potter's quick hands now. The sheer fact that they belonged to Potter was currently a strike against the class. Another...

The young, inexperienced collie had been struck by a sudden remarkable notion, and brought in the sheep with far too much speed and enthusiasm. Severus had an intimate view of leaping woolly things, sharp hooves, and the ground. His uncle picked himself up and dusted off; he did the same. "Well," his uncle said mildly, "if you can't handle a little embarrassment, don't work with animals."

He could handle embarrassment, but not in front of them. Not if he could avoid it.

And, of course, Lupin had already shown something of a talent for the subject, and with that a talent for managing embarrassment. Two more hands on the contrary side.

His quill hovered, then stabbed a quick check-mark beside Divination. Perhaps he could learn something of his innate skills there, and the tower was reputed to be warm. He could get there without passing the embarrassing statue of Paracelsus that serenaded him with show tunes at every opportunity. It contradicted no Slytherin cant. If nothing else, he was confident of his ability to say what others wanted to hear, on the rare occasions he felt like doing so. Most people would rather hear good predictions than accurate ones.