Teen Drama or "Are we sure there are no more Horcruxes, wife?"

Quidditch & Dreams

Note: Huge chapter for you, dear readers!

Things get even more complicated now. The title of this story didn't lie: the drama these teens are able to cause is unbelievable!

_____________

April 2012

Neville stood by his desk as his sixth year Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students walked out of Greenhouse #3, shocked and frustrated that the absence of a particular Ravenclaw had made him more distracted than her presence.

Sophie Snape had been dismissed from attending his classes until the end of the term; not that she had tried anything lately to draw his attention– quite the opposite in fact was true: she had stopped wearing the shortened skirts and tight blouses she had favoured in the not-so-distant past, her uniform was back to regulation length and tightness level, and her grades were still as perfect as ever, but her distant gazes and lack of questions during classes had Neville on the brink of an emotional breakdown. He knew she was there in body but not in spirit– and he hated knowing he had been the one to cause that.

So, looking to relieve her from a class that didn't make her happy and to spare himself the pain of seeing her and not being able to talk to (or touch) her anymore, he'd decided the best course of action was to dismiss Sophie Snape from his class.

He'd talked to her mother the day before and Florence had stood in front of his desk looking at him with a mix of disapproval and reluctant understanding.

"So she only has to show up for the finals?" she'd asked, looking from the paper in her hand, that said Sophie was excused from attending Herbology classes, to the professor.

"Yes," Neville nodded, trying to control his nervousness, "She worked hard all year and... I-I don't see the need to make her go to the greenhouses to sit classes she already knows everything about."

Florence nodded slowly, stopping a smile from forming in her pink lips, "You should talk to the Headmaster about this, you know? Not me."

Neville had turned white then, "B-but he might misunderstand–"

"Why?" she tilted her head, "Is there anything to be misunderstood, Neville?" she still controlled the smirk, but her eyes twinkled with mirth, as if she enjoyed watching him squirm, "As far as I can see, you're relieving my daughter from sitting classes in the greenhouses for the next two months because she doesn't need them. Have I misunderstood?"

He gulped, "No, no, ma'am. That's exactly why, nothing hap– I mean, no other reason than that just, just that."

Florence had watched him for a few silent seconds, strangely seeming to ponder about something; he'd hoped she didn't know about him kissing her daughter in the greenhouses.

But she had just shaken her head slowly and let out a sigh, folding the paper, "I'll talk to Severus this time."

He frowned, willing his voice not to waver, "This time?"

"Yes, Neville. This time," she put emphasis in her words, "Somehow I feel that soon you might need to talk to my husband again."

It had been his turn then to shake his head, "I can't see why–"

"You can't?" she interrupted again, narrowing her eyes, "Really? Well, I guess I'm wrong then," she shrugged and walked out of his office, leaving a befuddled Neville staring at the open door.

Slowly he'd let his head fall on his desk with a 'THUD'.

And now he stood in an empty greenhouse, pressing a hand to his chest as if that could aliviate the emptiness he felt inside.