Lilliana Snape Book Two (Re-written)

Part 9

“Did you think that it was a wise idea to be hitting people with broomsticks?” My father asked coldly, evidently annoyed that I’m smacked Draco round the head.

“Yes” I blinked at him “and it was one person with one broomstick; you’re making it sound as though I went on a broomstick massacre or something.” I yawned, slumping further down on my desk.

Dad had found me just before I’d managed to sit down for lunch; apparently, someone from Slytherin (whether they were in the team or on the stands I don’t know) ratted on me to their head of house who, incidentally, is also my father. But now I was so tired, hungry and agitated that I couldn’t even try to reign in my rudeness.

“Sit up!” He snapped at me “stop yawning and, for Merlin’s sake, open your eyes!”

I hadn’t even realised that I’d closed them! Oops. I sat up, as instructed, and raised my eyebrows at him just as my stomach growled so loud that I could have sworn that it echoed around the room. “Well I’m sorry” I told him sarcastically “Oliver had us up at the crack of dawn!”

“I don’t care” he spat “you put Malfoy in the hospital wing and you’re not even sorry; that’s inexcusable behaviour!”

“Of course I’m not sorry” I snapped back “he called Hermione a Mudblood! I don’t know what you think of that word but I find it very offensive!”

Dad, for some reason, reeled back in shock and it took him a second of two to compose himself. “Even so” he said, not sounding quite as angry as he had done a moment ago “that’s still no excuse!” Dad stared at me for a moment and, as each second passed, his face grew less and less angry. Eventually, he took a seat opposite me and sighed heavily. “Lilliana, as I am not your head of house it’s not my place to give you a punishment but I have to inform Professor McGonagall of this; do you understand?”

“Whatever” I sighed. Slumping back in my chair.

“As for my opinion of that word” he paused, looking a little…sad “I hate it; I think that it’s one of the most vile words that I have had the misfortune to hear. I used it once and, since then, have never used it again. I will tell Minerva exactly what happened; I’m sure that your punishment won’t be too severe given the circumstances.”

“That’s great” I grumbled, feeling a little confused by his attitude change but far too hungry and tired to pick him up on it “can I go now?”

“No” he replied “I haven’t seen you recently to talk; I want to know how you’re getting on.”

“I’m fine, work’s fine, everything’s fine!”

Dad seemed a little offended by my tone. He raised his eyebrows at me, obviously not believing the fact that, as I said, everything was ‘fine’. “I’m more likely to believe you if you’re not snapping at me when you say it.” He told me.

“Look” I sighed, rubbing my eyes “dad, I’m really tired and I’m really hungry; can’t we catch up tomorrow or something?”