Sweeeeet...

Disclaimer: I just bought a really cute shirt that says 'I ate a bowl of attitute for breakfast' But I don't even own that because I borrowed money from my mom. So really, I don't own nuthin'.

R&R as usual, my lovely readers.

-M.Pet

Hermione awoke to the sound of a quill scratching furiously across paper. She groggily sat up in bed, to see Mannie sitting on her knees in bed, with ink floating in the air nearby, and the large book they had gotten in Snape's class yesterday on her lap. She rubbed her eyes.

"Mannie?"

"Yes?"

"What time is it?"

"4:32 AM"

"What?"

"Foooouuurrrr, thirtieee-twooooo."

"In the morning?"

"You're not very intelligent in the morning, are you, Hermione?"

Hermione chucked the first thing her hand landed on. The tissue box landed harmlessly on the floor about five feet away from the bed where Mannie was sitting. Hermione suddenly realized that she wasn't supposed to be in here.

"Hey! How come you're not with Madame Pomfrey?"

"Because I have work to do."

"But, you're arm…"

"Its fine, see?"

Mannie held up her arm for Hermione to see. There was some light gauze bandages wrapping up her arm to her elbow, and she was wearing a small glove on her hand.

"Mannie, you shouldn't be using that."

"Can't be helped, it's my left hand, and that's the one I write with."

"Snape won't care if your paper is a day late; besides, you had a serious injury not too long ago."

"It was a minor injury, barely hurt, and I am not going to turn in homework a day late just because my arm hurts a little. It's stupid."

"But-"

"Hermione, go back to sleep."

Hermione sat up in bed, fully prepared to force Mannie back to the nurse's ward.

"Mannie…"

"Depus Dremus Drol"

The last thing Hermione remembered before instantly falling asleep, was that Mannie was a force to be reckoned with when she wanted to do something.

-----

Snape would care to learn that little tidbit from Hermione. Unfortunately for him, he was busy figuring out how it is that Mannie managed to get out of the ward, down the hall to Gryffindor rooms, and into her bed without anyone noticing. It peeved him that she sat in her chair rudely staring back at him with those empty eyes. With a pang, he remembered how she thought he was her mother last night. Foolish child. Although it wasn't really her fault. Pomfrey hadn't done a good job of preventing her from getting an illness. Snape stood, and walked over to her. Classes had not yet started, and the early people were still slowly filing into the Potions room. He loomed over her, casting a shadow over her tiny frame sitting in the desk beneath him. She raised an eyebrow at him, almost knowingly. Little disrespectful hussy.

"Sir?"

They both knew that it wasn't a question.

"Miss Mortacrin, may I ask why you are not with Madame Pomfrey?"

Her eyes twinkled slightly with a hint of mischief.

"You may."

"Miss Mortacrin, answer the question."

"I was not seriously hurt, sir. Therefore, I did not think it necessary to remain under the care of the nurse."

"That is not for you to decide, Miss Mortacrin."

"But Professor, I-"

"An explosion took off the skin on your entire arm yesterday; you tossed all night with a fever, and you deem yourself capable to go to classes only hours later?"

Something like defiance flitted across her eyes for a moment, but then sank back into her eyes just as quickly as it came.

"Sir, it was not as bad as you make it out to be, I've suffered worse."

"Let me see your arm."

"What?"

"You heard me, Miss Mortacrin."

"Sir, I-"

"Miss Mortacrin…"

"No."

"What?"

"You heard me, Professor."

Snape took a deep breath to calm himself, even though his hands shook with the desire to throttle her scrawny little neck.

"Miss Mortacrin you will stay for detention with me at the end of the day."

She opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off.

"Do not answer back, of you will make it worse on yourself. I am tired of your attitude."

Snape watched a tiny wisp of smoke rise from under the desk.

"Miss Mortacrin, what are you doing?"

The girl looked down with surprise written across her face, and lifted her arm onto the table. The bandages that Snape assumed had been covering her arm were burnt to a crisp. Even as they looked on, a little flame burnt itself out near her palm. She ripped the sooty clothes from her arm, and shoved them away. Her arm was still not completely healed, and was pink in some places, with tender, newly grown skin. Snape had no idea what to say.

"What-"

"You made me mad."

Again, such a simple, child-like phrase. The girl was obviously not very developed emotionally. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"I fail to understand."

"I sometimes…lose control when I get mad. That's all."

"I see."

Snape swept away from her, and went to his desk. The child was turning out to be much more than he bargained for. He planned to teach her how to use her obviously potent magic, and how to control it. He looked at her as she sat at her desk in silence, with her dark hair falling all over her face and shoulders. One thing was sure; she would be getting a haircut soon, if he had anything to say about it.

-----

Mannie was furious. How dare he! Giving her a detention like that. He had just walked up and picked a fight with her. Mannie angrily tugged her sleeve over her arm, and let out a hiss as the material came in contact with her tender skin. She wrapped her arms around herself. She was too tired to stay mad, and her magic was probably low after being sick all night. She had most likely just used up what little her body could give at the moment, with that stupid fire she made. She dug her hands into her palms. She wished she could control it better, but it just wasn't working. Her mother had been teaching her how to harness her anger and emotion to control them, rather than they controlling her. Mannie let her head sink down on her chest as she looked at her hands. She felt the wisps of hair tickle her neck and fall down her shoulders, and over her face. Her face grew hot as she tried to keep the tears in. Her mother had died before she had fully mastered her powers, and then, three years later, the Deatheaters had found her. Mannie could feel her tears welling up in her eyes. She blinked them rapidly, and took a deep breath. Not here. She couldn't cry here. Not in front of all these people. Especially Snape. Anger helped dry her tears as she stared at him. She would never cry in front of him. She would never show weakness in front of him, that horrible, grouchy, condescending, over-bearing, mean-

"Mannie?"

Mannie spun to see who interrupted her thoughts, and found Harry moving to kneel beside her. He looked up at her, with intelligent, piercing green eyes, behind his clean, clear glasses. She looked at him and tried to offer a smile, but couldn't, and settled for nodding. Concern made his eyebrows crease together.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes."

Harry looked mildly frustrated for a moment.

"Don't lie to me."

Mannie turned away and let her hair hide her eyes.

"I'll be fine, Harry. I can take care of myself."

Harry reached up and pushed her hair behind her ears, before taking her chin in his hand. He gazed into her eyes knowingly.

"Mannie, I know it's hard for you to talk about stuff, but just remember, life is pretty lonely if you try to live it all alone."

Mannie smiled weakly.

"Its easier said than done, Harry."

Snape rapped his ruler on the desk in the background. Mannie gestured to Harry's seat.

"You should probably sit down."

She turned and got out a quill to begin taking notes.

-----

Harry slowly went back to his desk. Poor kid. He wished she would talk to him more, but until she decided on her own to open up, there was really nothing he could do. He sat down at this desk and listened to Snape drone on and on about Potions and other equally uninteresting things, until finally the hands on the clock motioned for the time to leave, and picking up his things, hurried out with everyone else.

At the end of the day, Harry spotted Mannie walking along the corridor by herself. Catching up with her, he walked beside her for a moment in silence, before speaking.

"Where you going?"

"Snape gave me a detention today, so I have to go and sit in his room, and clean stuff, or whatever he has students do for punishment."

"Already? What in the world did you do?"

"I don't know. I think I frustrate him."

"Well, welcome to the club. That bloody git hate all Gryffindors, so I'm afraid that you'll have to put up with him acting like that for the rest of the year."

She groaned, "It's only the third day, too."

"Well, maybe things will get better."

She looked up at him shrewdly, and Harry could sense that she knew he was only saying that to make her feel better. He gave her a little half-smile.

"Well, I have to get back. Mione is helping me with Transfigurations tonight, and she'll be mad with me if I keep her waiting."

"I believe that."

A sudden shrill scream pierced the quiet atmosphere of Hogwarts behind them. Harry turned just in time to see two first-year Ravenclaw boys, and one girl running as fast as their legs could carry them. They whipped past Harry and Mannie without a look backwards. Harry could only hear a catch of what they were screaming:

"A Seelik! Get out of the halls, a Seelik is coming!"

Before either of them had a chance to act, a huge, gruesome-looking monster rounded the corner at a fast clip.

(note to readers: Seeliks are very tall, loathsome creatures, that are detested by everyone, even by their own kind. Wretched cannibals that survive primarily on scavenged meat, these monsters are usually found in caves, swamps, and other smelly, dark, secluded places. They have green skin, with small, twisted horns, large pointed ears, and black or red hair. They are very cunning and clever fiends that are extremely resourceful and quick-witted. In addition to all this, they are impervious to a great many spells, and they themselves have some forms of crude magic. And now, back to the story .)

Harry quickly pushed Mannie behind him as he drew out his wand and rapidly fired off a freezing spell.

"GROS SLOWSI!"

The Seelik, unfazed, ran at them headlong, and countered with a spell of his own. His tongue slid along his ugly lips as his dry voice rasped out,

"Joqe, Lok, Brie!"

Instantly, Harry felt his joints stiffen, and stop working all together. His legs were locked out, as were his arms and fingers. Mannie appeared to be fine, however, as she stepped our from behind him and pointed her wand at the Seelik. She looked at him intensely, before whispering a spell that Harry could barely hear.

"Flaemis"

Instantly, bright green flames leapt up around the Seelik in a circle of fire. The Seelik angrily tried to push his way through the blaze, but was burned, and leapt back, yelping and holding his hand in his mouth. He rasped out several spells rapidly, on after the other, but to no avail. He came up close to the edge of the inferno, and Harry could just make out his voice.

"Ahhhhh…Verrrry cleeeeveeerrr you arrrreee. Verrrrry loooonnnnelyyyy though, yessss?"

Harry would have held his hands over his ears if he could've. The sound of the raspy, dry voice of the Seelik sounded like some sort of awful bug making a humming noise in the summer. High, annoying, and tiresome. If the sound was also bothering Mannie, she made no sign of it, as she watched the Seelik impassively. The Seelik smiled wickedly, revealing long rows of pointed, yellow teeth.

"Yesssss, You arrrreeee loooonnnnnelyyyy. You wissshhhh to commuuuuunnnnicate with your mummmmmyyyy, yesssssss?"

Mannie did not answer, but continued to look at the simpering Seelik with a blank face. The Seelik nervously licked his lips.

"You seeeeeee, I cannnnn ssssppppeeeeak to the deeesceeeeaaasssed. I'se killed a Fortuuuunnne Flllyyyyy many moooooooons ago. Gave meeeeee poooowerrrrr to connnnverssssse with the deeeead."

(second note to readers: Fortune Flies will be mentioned again in this story, so I'll tell you what they are. The look a little like a cross between a dragon fly and a trumpet. Think, sea horse with wings. Anyway, if you can catch one, they will either tell you your fortune, or connect you with someone in the future, past, or present who is otherwise impossible to contact. They are very small, however, about the size of your pointer finger, and extremely shy.)

Mannie did not even blink.

"Liar."

The Seelik smiled even wider. When he spoke again, Harry was not even sure of what he was saying. He was only aware of a hissing, shrieking sound...