Revenge 2: Hell Hath No Fury Like A Hermione.

Disclaimer: Owning nothing. Mwah. Except Chloe, Delphine and Saskia. They’re my Original Characters. Set two years after the events of ‘Revenge of A Hermione Scorned’. Would probably make more sense if you read that first.

Chapter One:


Am well aware that this should be the most perfect day of my life.

And in most senses – it is. Today can be nothing short of perfect. The dress is perfect, white, slinky, set off with elegant, simple jewellery, in it I move like a goddess down the aisle. Hair is sleek and gorgeous, am not looking half bad to be honest. Doesn’t every little girl dream of her wedding? And I, Hermione Granger, am no different.

Shame that this one has to be so bloody different.

There is row upon row of happy smiling faces peering at me, and am having to resist the urge to commit mass murder with my bouquet. Although not sure how lethal a bunch of red and white roses can be. Mind you – there are several lethal looking jewelled pins holding it together, oh yes, they could be quite vicious.

Am sure not many brides walk up the aisle with thoughts of violent death in their heads, but am sure I’m not the first. Probably won’t be the last either.

Gracious smile to the left reveals grinning Ron and Remus, both looking quite smart in their formal attire, Molly Weasley is dabbing eyes with lace trimmed handkerchief, and several relatives I simply don’t recognise are looking proudly on.

Mental note to self – when get married for real, invite only people that are instantly recognisable. Shall save much confusion later.

Of course, this wedding shall never actually get to ‘later’. Due to the fact the groom is lying cheating scumbag. Oh look, and there the fucker is now. Grin is forced onto face, and am grateful for the reassuring gulps of firewhiskey that were forced upon me earlier by Ginny and Chloe.

You fucked with me once, Severus Snape. You’re not going to do it again. When will you learn? Double crossing evil overlords is one thing but …

Double crossing Hermione Granger will only lead to the painful and torturously slow removal of your most precious dangly bits.

*

Some time earlier in the school yearRe
Really, the competitive spirit in this school is awful. Believe me, the adage ‘It’s the taking part that counts’ means nothing once you step into these school grounds. Taking part means sweet fuck all, ‘destroying your enemy and stringing him naked to the Quidditch hoops by his ankles’ is the ultimate goal. Have theory that the competition between houses is to distract from raging teenage hormones, but that doesn’t exactly explain the teachers…

Although I could be wrong…

‘Suck on this, Minerva!’

The battle cry is howled from across the Quidditch pitch in our direction. The ‘Minerva’ in question is essoessor Minerva McGonagal, head of Griffyndor House at Hogwarts School. Minerva’s lips have shrivelled up so much; they are currently as tight as a duck’s arse. It’s not a flattering look at any age.

But then, neither is flying upside down, suspended by one’s ankles from a broomstick. Although if anyone could pull it off, it would be Madam Hooch. The gesture she is currently flicking in our direction is one that would be universally recognised and needs no explanation. Minerva raises a thin, over plucked eyebrow.

‘Bollocks!’

Not quite what I was expecting. Am not used to hearing my ex head of house using language like this. Wrap scarf tighter round face in an attempt to keep the cold out, and also to hide smirk that is threatening to appear.

‘Whaddya mean ‘Bollocks’?’ Hooch looks as gnangnant as one can be when suspended by one’s ankles. ‘This was the bet, I’m bloody doing the bet, you owe me ten galleons, and a drink in the Three Broomsticks.’

‘I do not!’ Minerva has knack of instantly reverting into scary school mistress mode. Is something I have attempted to emulate for some time. Have failed so far. ‘The bet was to fly three times round the Quidditch pitch, hanging by one ankle! Not two! Hermione, tell her!’

Look up nervously at ex house mistress, and am instantly dragged back to time when she caught me running through Ravenclaw’s boy’s dorm wearing only my underwear as a result of a drunken game of truth and dare. Suddenly am having real difficulty speaking. ‘Um…’

‘Hermione!’ Madam Hooch seems determined to win me for her side as well.

‘Look… I’m really not sure, I just came out here because you needed someone to witness the bet, and I was the unlucky sucker who happened to walk into the staff room at that moment. I didn’t actually hear the bet being made…’

‘AAAAARRRRRRGGGGHHHHHHHH!’

Am saved from having to actually justify my neutral territory by a well timed scream. Unfortunately it is coming from Hooch who has just managed to wrap herself round the far central Quidditch hoops. Watch in fascinated manner as she bounces down to the ground, landing in a crumpled, moaning, and still cursing heap.

‘Ooooooooowwwwwwwww!’

Madam Hooch appears to be in some pain. ‘Oh god!’ I howl, instantly tapping into my muggle side, while Minerva shows a more eloquent turn of phrase.

‘By Merlin’s hairy nostrils, woman, will you be more careful!!!!’

Both of us are sprinting as fast as robes, age, and general unfitness will allow across the field. Getting to Hooch, we discover her leg bent under her at a most unnatural angle.

‘That has to hurt,’ I mutter, gently trying to feel for the break.

Hooch’sctioctions are still spo, no, not to mention her language. Would say she is in some pain. ‘We’ll have to get a stretcher,’ I can sense panic beginning to kick in. More in me than in Hooch though.

‘For Vivien’s sake, Hermione, you’re a witch! Get your wand out girl!’

Ah yes, can forget about that sometimes. Usually when faced with an emergency situation. I may have exceptional intelligence, I just can occasionally lack common sense. I blame years of hanging around with Harry and Ron. Finally got me down. Whip wand out and magically transfigure scarf into stretcher. Nice bit of ‘Wingardium Leviosa’ later, and we have one magical games mistress on her way back to the school.

‘If anyone asks,’ Minerva mutters out of the side of her mouth, ‘We had nothing to do with it…’

Sorry, to do with what? I know absolutely nothing about how Madam Hooch managed to connect with a highly visible Quidditch hoop. Oops, is that my Slytherin side coming out again…

*

‘If this is another practical joke, I will not be a happy matron…’ Poppy Pomfrey glares at Minerva and I, who hang our heads like naughty children.

‘S’s not a prank,’ Minerva mutters. I wonder if that swishing sound is her scuffing her shoes beneath the tartan gowns.

‘No, it’s not a bloody prank!’ Hooch howls, still in the same awkward position. ‘Do I look like I’m faking this?’

‘It didn’t look like you were faking chicken pox last time…stop smirking Minerva McGonagall! You of all witches should know how dangerous chicken pox is to witches and wizards. Do you know how long it would take to clear up all the feathers?’

I risk an interruption. ‘Poppy, please, this isn’t a practical joke, and Hooch appears to be in some pain.’

As am I, as the witch digs her nails into my hand.

Poppy sighs. ‘Fine, but I’m out of the potion I need. Don’t suppose you could nip down to the dungeons for me could you? Nag that demon lover of yours fome ome more?’

Can feel grin spreading over face despite eight out of ten of Hooch’s nails are buried in my palm. Could I go down to the dungeon to see a certain delicious potions master? Of course I could. Would be my pleasure. Am almost purring at the thought.

Have been with Severus Snape for close to two years now, since my potion’s apprenticeship. Has been most enjoyable arrangement, involving lots of stimulating conversation and plenty of hot, sweaty dow downright dirty sex. Both are viewed as a good thing in my book. Even better, was once I started teaching at Hogwarts, have been able to spend even more time with him, which means more time having sex. Discovered it was an excellent way to pass the long lonely minutes between lessons.

‘Hermione? Would you mind dragging your head out of Severus’s trousers long enough to go and fetch the potion for me?’ Poppy has amused look on face. Evidently my thoughts are veeadaeadable.

‘Shan’t be long,’ I prise Hooch’s death grip from my hand.

‘You better not be!’ she screams after me. ‘And no shagging while you’re down there – I’m in sodding agony here!’

Wave cheerfully at her, and head for dungeons.

Never in my seven years at Hogwarts would I have ever described the dungeons as my favourite part of the school. However, two years teaching here, and getting to enjoy all the pleasures of the Potions classroom has rather changed my mind. Mind you, never thought I’d end up shagging Severus Snape on a regular basis. The man was simply poisonous when I was a student here, and still not much better to those that don’t share his bed. I have an advantage over his students though. Have discovered inner sex god in the man, and am not about to relinquish that lightly.

Even managed to get him to admit that Harry Potter wasn’t actually all that bad. Was a major achievement methinks.

Have to admit to being head over heels in love with the bat like git. But he’s my bat like git, and quite frankly, that’s all that matters.

Am almost skipping with anticipation by the time I get to his study. Am anticipating a good hard snog, anticipating maybe a sly grope, and anticipating a frisky fumble or two.

However, once I break through his wards, am not anticipating finding him wrapped round the Head Girl…

Mind goes blank.

What? What is going on?

Am frantically trying to work out what I am seeing.

Apart from, of course, my lover with his tongue down Cassandra Simmerson’s throat.

This really cannot be happening.

But it is.