AUTHOR'S NOTE: Just so you know, the order of people changes with every round. So here's Snape again. Oh, and by the way, Ginny made a discovery in the previous chapter hat kissing Harry for too long is bad for one's mental health...thus when she speaks of anyone kissing Harry, or even brings it up, she's usually talking about someone acting insane or is just commenting on insanity. Have fun.

DISCLAIMER: Not mine unless it doesn't belong to J. K. Rowling.


Hormonal Half-Wits

Chapter 8: Snape, Round 2


I'm really getting tired of this day.

Not in here ten minutes when who should come wandering up but Snape? I cursed myself several times and then everyone in the house many times in succession. It made me feel slightly better and rather brutal.

He came in and to my intense shock, sat down next to me.

On the floor.

With the remnants of long-deceased cute, fluffy rodents.

I really hoped he hadn't been kissing Harry.

Strange how that idea was more revolting than the ferret skull I'd just absent-mindedly crushed under my fingers. I hastily shoved you under my arse and looked up at him curiously. You must admit (thought you had better not voice an opinion) that this behaviour was rather uncharacteristic. And Harry said I was acting strange.

We sat for a while in what one might call companionable silence. Rather, neither of us talked and I, for one, didn't feel at all perturbed. Can't speak for Snape though. He looked rather pale and pasty.

Good, all things normal, then. Except he looked more pale and pasty than normal. I arched an eyebrow at him in perfect imitation of Malfoy. I felt quite proud. He stuttered. It's something that is certainly going down in the record books…Snape stuttered.

For a moment I thought he was, y'know, having a fit or something…then I noticed he was trying to speak…as in formulate speech…it was more than a little disconcerting.

Honestly, I was just trying to help him…I wasn't sure if perhaps the twins had been experimenting again. I put my hand over his and patted it, asking the usual 'you alright?' routine questions. The man stared at me like I was a ruddy basilisk before rushing from the room, actually stumbling on the impressive, sweeping robes he's always flaunting.

I conclude that all the men in this place have been subjected to something of Fred and George's for too long…or perhaps just Fred and George themselves…hmmm. Anyway, just me and Buckbeak now…if he starts acting weird, I'm leaving…