The Quetzal's Fire

Harry Potter

I'm trying to start a Harry Potter fanfiction message board. Email me or go to my homepage link and sign up for my totally subjective admittance process. As always: idiots need not apply. Fools, of course, are more than welcome.

A/N: So, this is the new year- and I don't feel any different. Regardless… school will start nine hours and thirteen minutes from this exact moment. That sucks. It was a good December except for the tsunami, but doubtless y'all have heard enough about it. And the Mariners signed Adrian Beltre and Richie Sexon in December! The former was one of my bigger Christmas presents. Yet, the one that I think I will want more is a decent amount of snow in the Cascades (and the whole rest of the West, for that matter). It's going to be shitty skiing this year. It sucks.
Enjoy.

Part Eight: Cockles of the Heart

"Potter, if you are going to bother me with these pointless and imposed visits, please be punctual," growled Professor Severus Snape as Harry Potter entered his classroom being all of two minutes late.

"Yes, sir," said Harry through gritted teeth. It was going to be a joy, he was sure.

"Let me explain it is through no pleasure or desire of mine to instruct you any more than I would normally through the course of the term. Regardless, Professor Dumbledore has a higher opinion of you than I and requested I perform this favor for him. I wish to be totally clear that I will expect full cooperation from you and I will bar you from ever taking this or any other class from me again, whether it be on my own time or during the term. Do you understand, Potter, or do need I write it down in monosyllables?"

"I understand, sir," Harry said, using all his will to keep from insulting Snape in return.

"Well? Have you anything else to say before we continue your farce of an education?" sneered Snape.

"Yes, sir. I've gotten nothing but hostility from you since I got here because of what my dad did more than twenty years ago at school. I think it's you that's got problems
with your intellect, not being able to let petty things like that go." Harry fixed Snape with a deep glare.

"Your opinion of me is irrelevant, Potter. I am the teacher and you are the pupil, and I expect that will not ever change, no matter the age you ascend to."

Really, thought Harry. You're a cocky bastard, you stupid git... we'll see how it is when Voldemort's gone...

"Today we will be covering the sleeping draught, at which you failed miserably last year. I will be covering those potions you attained a D score on. Certainly, that will occupy the next two weeks, assuming you do not fail again…"

-

"What a git," snarled Harry. He punched an easy chair, then sank into it with a heavy sigh.

"Hope you're not talking about me," said Ginny, who slid easily into a chair across from him.

"Snape," Harry managed to spit out. He didn't lose his composure— his hatred of Snape was more than enough to keep him from losing balance in front of his crush.

"Yeah, he's a git," agreed Ginny. "Hermione said you're taking extra classes with him."

"One of us going to be dead before we're finished," Harry said wryly. "He'll spike my pumpkin juice or something."

"Nah, he'd have done that a long time ago," observed Fred, who had just jumped the lastfive stairs from the boy's part of the tower.

"Besides, Harry, you're not even worth an expensive poison," George noted, doing the same.

"Because it wouldn't kill me?"

"No. You're just vermin," Fred said with an air of finality.

"Thanks," Harry noted dryly.

"It's good to see you having some melodrama though, Harry," announced Fred.

"We were worried about you," George added.

"That means a lot coming from you two," Ginny said.

"Yes, you would know about our great concern for the fellow man—" George said.

"—especially our intimates—" interjected Fred.

"—wouldn't you, Ginny?" concluded George. Ginny said nothing.

Harry noted it was something like a trial.

Fred pretended to think for a minute. "You know, George, it was like I was saying."

"What? That Ginny is a very concerned person?" exclaimed the other twin in mock surprise.

"Especially when it comes to Harry! Exactly that!" shouted Fred with a smirk.

"Well, dear brother, it seems we have inflicted duress of an emotional type. To our own sister, no less!" said George in mock chagrin.

"Right you are dear brother. It would be an appropriate time to address the quality control of the kitchens of this miserable establishment, lest we further confuse and disturb our young compatriots." observed Fred pompously, offering his arm to George.

"To the kitchens!"

In their wake, both Ginny and Harry had turned red.

An awkward silence ensued.

"Funny blokes," said Harry weakly, trying to maneuver away from troubled waters.

"Yeah," said Ginny, echoing Harry's tone. That told Harry Ginny was just as embarrassed as he was.

Oh, God, thought Harry. Is she embarrassed to be associated with me? Does she like me? Dammit, I've gotta say something without actually saying something. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—

"They're, er, right, though," Ginny said.

"What do you mean?" asked Harry rather too quickly. Shit! That sounded defensive. Ginny turned redder than she already was.

"I, uh, like you a lot, Harry,"

Well, that was relieving.

Except Harry was still on the spot.

"Uh, me too," he said. "I, ah, mean, I like you a lot, too. Except, uh, not to say that I don't like me too. But, I, ah, don't like myself too much, if you know what I mean. That's kind of funny. Too much. I mean, uh, can you like yourself too much?"

Ginny stood up. To Harry's unspeakable horror and inexplicable dread, she leaned over…