Lilliana Snape Book Three (Re-written) ON HOLD UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE

Chapter 14

Hey guys, sorry for the wait; I was re-reading the books. (:

"How was it?" Fred asked, when I finally returned to Gryffindor tower.

"Never" I threw myself down next to him "again!"

Ron's head whipped around so quickly that I'm sure I heard his neck snap. "So, he did want to talk to you about...you know... then?"

"Yes, Ronald, my father and I had the sex talk." I covered my face with my hands and moaned loudly.

Fred nudged me "c'mon, it couldn't have been that bad!"

"Fred" I looked at him "it was worse than bad; I can never look him in the eyes ever again!"

"What happened?" Asked Harry

"It was horrendous" I groan "he was talking about himself and I didn't want to hear it...and it just came out of my mouth without permission!"

When nobody spoke, I looked up to see them all staring at me with different expressions on their faces. Hermione looked concerned, Ron looked nervous, Harry looked intrigued and Fred looked amused. "Go on" Fred nudges me.

Sighing, I bite my lip, and say "I told him that, if he didn't stop talking, I'd tell him about my masturbatory habits."

Fred laughed so loud that I swear my eardrum burst. "That is brilliant, Lil! What did he say?"

"He said" I smiled; I could feel myself fighting the urge to laugh with Fred "'at least doing it that way, you won't get pregnant.'"

Even Hermione cracked a grin. "I can't even imagine him saying that!" Harry laughed.

"Sounds like a completely different person" nods Ron. "Anyway, I'm done with my homework; is it firebolt time yet?"

On Thursday, of the same week, Oliver called a meeting in the changing rooms; with the Quidditch season looming, he was determined to get us up to scratch so that we could finally win a game.

"This is our last chance -- my last chance -- to win the Quidditch Cup," he told us, striding up and down in front of us. "I'll be leaving at the end of this year. I'll never get another shot at it."

"Gryffindor hasn't won for seven years now. Okay, so we've had the worst luck in the world -- injuries -- then the tournament getting called off last year." Wood swallowed, as though the memory still brought a lump to his throat. "But we also know we've got the best -- ruddy -- team -- in -- the -- school," he said, punching a fist into his other hand, the old manic glint back in his eye. "We've got three superb Chasers."

Wood pointed at Alicia Spinner, Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell and myself. Alicia was still on reserve, Oliver wanted her train with us just in case she had to step in at last minute

"We've got two unbeatable Beaters."

"Stop it, Oliver, you're embarrassing us," said Fred and George together, pretending to blush.

"And we've got a Seeker who has never failed to win us a match!" Wood rumbled, glaring at Harry with a kind of furious pride. "And me," he added as an afterthought.

"We think you're very good too, Oliver," said George.

"Spanking good Keeper," said Fred.

"Here, here!" I cheered, grinning.

"The point is," Wood went on, resuming his pacing, "the Quidditch Cup should have had our name on it these last two years. Ever since Harry 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 finally see our name on the thing..."

Wood spoke so dejectedly that even Fred and George looked sympathetic.

"Oliver, this year's our year," said Fred.

"We'll do it, Oliver!" said Angelina.

"Definitely," said Harry.

Full of determination, the team started training sessions, three evenings a week. The weather was getting colder and wetter, the nights darker, but no amount of mud, wind, or rain could tarnish anyone's wonderful vision of finally winning the huge, silver Quidditch Cup.

Harry, Fred, George and I returned to the Gryffindor common room one evening after training, cold and stiff but pleased with the way practice had gone, to find the room buzzing excitedly.

"What's happened?", I asked Ron and Hermione, who were sitting in two of the best chairs by the fireside and completing some star charts for Astronomy.

"First Hogsmeade weekend," said Ron, pointing at a notice that had appeared on the battered old bulletin board. "End of October. Halloween."