Author's note: I've survived the second round of midterms, whew! It's 1:30 am and I can't think straight anymore, but here is a short chapter. It covers Lockhart's Valentine's Day, um, fun. I hope that you enjoy it. Please review!

Guest: I figure Snape just thought it'd be a lark to set a snake on Harry. He's so unhappy about assisting Lockhart with the duelling club that he might as well get his kicks where he can. He got more than he bargained for, though!

Sabrina: I do now! The story is posted under the author name Allyswrites (L8rose was already taken).

Warnings: Swearing

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I referenced pages 175-177 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets while writing this.

Major Irritations

The winter break hadn't been half as relaxing as it should have been, considering that the environment was mostly child-free. One of the reasons for this was the dual Petrification of Justin Finch-Fletchley and Gryffindor House's ghost Nearly Headless Nick, which had happened shortly before the holidays. To affect a ghost so was hardly a minor display of magic, and the staff was grim as they took this as further confirmation that something sinister was going on. They were no longer skeptical about the existence of the Chamber of Secrets.

Naturally, the Golden Trio was another issue. The idea that Potter was the Heir of Slytherin had taken a hold of the student body, and most of them had started going out of their way to avoid him in the halls. According to Pomona, her Hufflepuffs had all been scared silly of him since the incident with the snake. Although he had yet to find an alternative, logical explanation, Severus refused to believe that Potter was somehow descended from Salazar Slytherin. There was simply a piece to the puzzle that he hadn't seen—which was a maddening prospect, but better than thinking that there was any link between Slytherin and the Potter spawn.

In a rare instance of Potter not being the trouble-maker, Granger had arrived at the infirmary covered with fur and endowed with cat ears and a tail. It would take over a month to reverse. Poppy had paid Severus a visit to his private quarters that night.

"You don't teach second-years how to brew Polyjuice Potion, do you?" she asked.

"It may come as a surprise," quipped Severus, "but I am not half as irresponsible as that."

His mind went back to the Bicorn Horn and Boomslang Skin stolen from his stores. There was no doubt now that Granger was the culprit, having been absent during the explosion of the cauldron, being the only one of the three possessing enough wits to carry out a time-sensitive endeavour, and being a voracious enough reader that she would actually be aware of Polyjuice Potion's existence, unlike most other second-years. Severus suspected that the girl had even brewed it properly and that there had simply been a misunderstanding about what kind of hair she was actually putting into the cauldron. He might have been—grudgingly—impressed, if the whole thing hadn't begged the question of, What in Merlin's name are they up to?

Only slightly less migraine-inducing was the Malfoy family. Severus had accepted in invitation to Malfoy Manor for a post-Christmas, pre-New Year's dinner, and Lucius had been full of holiday cheer. This did not likely mean good things. An overly-cheerful Lucius made Severus almost as wary as did the combination of the Golden Trio and Polyjuice Potion. He suspected that his old friend's disposition had something to do with the Petrifications of all the muggleborns, which he must have heard about from Draco; Dumbledore had somehow managed to keep the news out of the Prophet, which was a feat in itself.

The sun had begun to shine weakly on Hogwarts again. There had been no more attacks since those on Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick, and Pomona was pleased to report that the Mandrakes were becoming moody and secretive, meaning that they were fast leaving childhood.

Even with this hope, Potter's peers were still treating him mistrustfully. Peeves, the castle's chaos-loving poltergeist, was having great fun with Potter's lack of popularity, floating through the halls singing "Oh Potter, you rotter…," now with a dance routine to match. Although he would never admit it, Severus found it quite amusing.

Under most circumstances, Severus might have considered either Peeves or the children themselves to be one of the most annoying things in the castle. This year, however, did not fall under the category of "most circumstances," for there was a certain fraud named Gilderoy Lockhart unfortunately employed in the Defence Against the Dark Arts position, and Lockhart had a miserable idea of what was morale-boosting.

Severus had to work hard to keep the shock and disgust off of his face when he walked into the Great Hall the morning of February fourteenth. The place looked like cupid had eaten too many Valentine's Day sweets and didn't make it to the toilet before vomiting. Severus wanted to vomit himself.

The walls were all covered with large, lurid pink flowers. Worse still, heart-shaped confetti was falling from the pale blue ceiling, and Lockhart was wearing robes of a similar offensive colour, blending in with the decorations. Severus exchanged furtive looks with some of the other, equally stone-faced faculty.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" Lockhart shouted, waving his arms for silence. "And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all—and it doesn't end here!"

Minerva looked like she wanted to claw out Lockhart's eyes.

Lockhart clapped his hands, and through the doors to the Entrance Hall marched a dozen surly-looking dwarfs. Not just any dwarfs, however. Lockhart had them all wearing golden wings and carrying harps.

Fucking hell.

"My friendly, card-carrying cupids!" beamed Lockhart. "They will be roving around the school today delivering your Valentines! And the fun doesn't stop here! I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion!"

Over my dead body.

"And while you're at it," Lockhart continued, "Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!"

Filius buried his face in his hands, and Severus put on his best scowl—it wasn't a difficult expression to form, especially in this moment—to convey that the first person to ask him for a Love Potion would be force-fed poison. He didn't even care that he'd go to Azkaban. Being around Lockhart was surely just as figuratively soul-sucking as being around the Dementors.

All day long, the dwarfs kept barging into classes to deliver Valentines, much to the annoyance of the teachers. It was the primary topic of complaint in the staff room, and Aurora Sinistra was the envy of all, being the only professor who not subjected to the constant interruptions, as Astronomy was not taught until the evening.

Severus had, with outward calm, actually hexed one dwarf, who was delivering a particularly long Valentine and distracting his fifth-year class. Honestly, it was difficult enough trying to drill knowledge into the students' thick skulls without some singing, tenacious little menace invading the classroom. That the dwarf had been angry about being attacked was an understatement, but it did little more than glare at Severus before stomping away to find its next victim, not looking remotely cherubic.

The next time he saw Lockhart, he was going to spell the overexaggerated grin right off the pompous man's face. As a minor consolation, at least the children had had enough sense not to ask him for a damn Love Potion.