Mon Cher (Severus Snape Daughter FF)

Ch. 9 POA

In no time at all, De​fence Against the Dark Arts had be​come most peo​ple's favorite class. On​ly Dra​co and his gang of Slytherins had any​thing bad to say about Pro​fes​sor Lupin.
"Look at the state of his robes," Draco would say in a loud whis​per as Pro​fes​sor Lupin passed. "He dress​es like our old house elf. Clara, you remember Dobby."
But no one else cared that Pro​fes​sor Lupin's robes were patched and frayed. His next few lessons were just as in​ter​est​ing as the first. Af​ter Bog​garts, they stud​ied Red Caps, nasty lit​tle gob​lin-​like crea​tures that lurked wher​ev​er there had been blood​shed, in the dun​geons of cas​tles and the pot​holes of de​sert​ed bat​tle​fields, wait​ing to blud​geon those who had got lost. From Red Caps they moved on to Kap​pas, creepy wa​ter-​dwellers that looked like scaly mon​keys, with webbed hands itch​ing to stran​gle un​wit​ting waders in their ponds.
"I wish my other classes were as exciting as Defense Against the Dark Arts." Harry said to Clara as they sat on Clara's bedroom floor. "Potions is the worst. I know he's your father, but Snape has been very vindictive lately."
"It's probably because of me," Clara said simply as she rolled the green shavings up in a thin piece of parchment.
"Why do you say that?"
Clara shrugged. "I mean do you not remember me ignoring his wishes for me to come home?"
"I think it goes deeper than that."
"Harry, the point of smoking is to not feel feelings."
Harry rubbed his sweaty palms on his trousers.
"I don't think we should do this."
"What?" Clara looked up. "You scared or something?"
"What if your dad comes in?"
"He's grading papers in his classroom right now, relax."
"Does he know I'm in his house?"
Clara didn't say anything. She just continued to lick the parchment and run the joint through her a lighter.
"Has he heard about the Boggart?" Harry asked.
"He has." Clara replied. "He doesn't think it's funny. He's taking advantage of Neville even more now. He's such an arsehole." She lit up the joint before taking the other end into her mouth.
"If I have to decipher lop-​sid​ed shapes and symbols in Trelawney's class one more time, I think I'll die." Harry said as Clara took a puff.
"Doesn't she tear up every time she looks at you?" Clara exhaled.
"I don't like her," Harry said.
Clara passed him the joint. "Fuck her," she smiled softly. Harry smirked and took the joint in his fingers. He inhaled the joint before coughing and sputtering. Clara chuckled before taking it away from him.
"Have you seen the way Par​vati Patil and Lavender Brown come out of Pro​fes​sor Trelawney's tow​er room after lunch?" she added. "Noses up in the air like they know something we don't."
"They always whisper when they speak to me."
They sat in silence for a moment.
"I don't like Care of Mag​ical Crea​tures anymore," Clara said suddenly, "Flobberworms are so boring."
"Seriously," Harry added. "Why would anyone bother looking after them?" he sighed. "At least
Quidditch season is coming."
"Speaking of," Clara said looking at the clock on her wall, "we're late."

"This is our last chance – my last chance – to win the Quid​ditch cup," Oliver told the team, strid​ing up and down in front of them. "I'll be leav​ing at the end of this year. I'll nev​er get an​oth​er shot at it. Gryffind​or hasn't won for sev​en years now. Okay, so we've had the worst luck in the world – in​juries – then the tour​na​ment get​ting called off last year ..." Oliver swal​lowed, as though the memory still brought a lump to his throat. "But we al​so know we've got the best – rud​dy – team – in – the – school," he said, punch​ing a fist in​to his oth​er hand, the old man​ic glint back in his eye.
"We've got three su​perb Chasers."
Oliver point​ed at Clara, An​geli​na, and Katie.
"We've got two un​beat​able Beat​ers."
"Stop it, Oliv​er, you're em​bar​rass​ing us," said Fred and George to​geth​er, pre​tend​ing to
blush.
"And we've got a Seek​er who has nev​er failed to win us a match!" Oliver rum​bled, glar​ing at Harry with a kind of fu​ri​ous pride. "And me," he added, as an af​terthought.
"We think you're very good, too, Oliv​er," said George.
"Crack​ing Keep​er," said Fred.
"The point is," Oliver went on, re​sum​ing his pacing, "the Quid​ditch cup should have had our name on it these last two years. Ev​er since Har​ry and Clara joined the team, I've thought the thing was in the bag. But we haven't got it, and this year's the last chance we'll get to fi​nal​ly see our name on the thing ..."
Oliver spoke so de​ject​ed​ly that even Fred and George looked sym​pa​thet​ic. "Oliv​er, this year's our year," said Fred.
"We're right behind you," said Clara.
"We'll do it, Oliv​er!" said An​geli​na.
"Def​inite​ly," said Har​ry.
Full of de​ter​mi​na​tion, the team start​ed train​ing ses​sions, three evenings a week. The weath​er was get​ting cold​er and wet​ter, the nights dark​er, but no amount of mud, wind or rain could tar​nish the team's won​der​ful vi​sion of fi​nal​ly win​ning the huge, sil​ver Quid​ditch cup.