The Makeover - COMPLETED

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 13 ~ Revenge and a New Beginning

The next morning, Hermione headed out for breakfast. She had a lovely dinner with Justice the night before, letting him kiss her on the cheek when he returned her to Hogwarts and walked her to her rooms, not knowing that Severus was peeking out of his office and observing them.

“How chaste,” he sneered to himself as he watched the Auror give the witch a small peck. By his eyes the Auror wouldn’t have minded a little more contact.

“I hope that was worth the galleons you spent on her tonight,” Severus muttered closing the door and stalking back into his study.

He dropped into the armchair facing the fire and picked up his firewhiskey. He had been looking out his office the entire evening, chiding himself for it every single time he did it. Why should he care when the witch got back from her date? He swallowed down the contents of his glass in one gulp and scowled into the fire.

Hermione Granger was not his type of witch. He liked them dirty and experienced for the most part. If they weren’t dirty when they came to him, they were certainly sullied when they left. The wizard smirked.

Any witch could be sullied. Even innocent Hermione Granger.

“What the fuck am I thinking? The witch doesn’t do a gods damn thing for me,” he hissed, slamming his glass down on the table. “What do I want with a walking encyclopedia? Besides, she couldn’t handle it. It’s insane.”

But his eye was trained to notice subtle changes…he was a Potions Master after all, and he’d noticed the witch’s reaction to him. Part of it was fear, but another part was definitely attraction.

“Forbidden Fruit Syndrome,” he muttered. That’s all it is on both our parts. She’s the untouched, good girl Gryffindor, and I’m the dark, evil Potions Master who would fuck her into conniptions…she knows it too. The witch knows it on some level, and it affects her.”

Severus considered. Hermione wasn’t a girl anymore. She was a young woman. A very curvaceous young woman, built like he liked them, though he didn’t want to admit it to himself.

The wizard rubbed his hand over his pale face. He wasn’t sure what to do about this situation. He wasn’t a wizard to court a witch. He generally told her what he wanted and either she gave it to him or she didn’t. There were no dinners, flowers, chaste kisses on the cheek or sweet talk. There was talk all right, but not sweet and definitely not the kind that one would share publicly. Hermione Granger wouldn’t know what to do with him. But he knew what he could do with her. But still…Hermione Granger?

“It’s insanity,” he said again, rising and heading for his bedroom.

Once again, sleep was a long time coming.

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Hermione walked up the dungeon corridor in a very good mood…then slowed as she saw the entire female staff waiting for her, Minerva standing in front.

The witch stopped in front of them.

“Good morning,” she said to the witches, her brow slightly furrowed as she tried to figure out what they were all doing there.

“Good morning, Hermione,” the witches all replied, looking very expectant for some reason.

Hermione stared at them for a moment, then asked, “Is there a reason all of you are standing here in the dungeon corridor rather than eating your breakfasts?”

Minerva stepped forward.

“Why, yes there is, Hermione. We’re all here to apologize for our dismal treatment of you,” the witch said, her eyes glistening. “We should have been your friends instead of your tormentors. We treated you so dismally these past couple of years…especially me. I was your Head of House. I was terrible to you. We all were.”

Hermione looked at Minerva, but didn’t say anything.

“When Rita wrote that horrible article about you, and that young witch came to you and told you what an inspiration you were, we realized just how awful we were being. We’re old, silly biddies and fervently hope you will forgive us for our long lapse of judgment and give us another chance to be good friends to you,” Minerva said.

Hermione still didn’t say anything. Minerva held out the Daily Prophet.

“Here is a token of just how sorry we are and how much we support you. Please, take it.”

Hermione slowly took the newspaper and scanned the cover. Her hand went to her mouth and her eyes widened.

“Oh my gods,” she breathed.

Then she burst out laughing hysterically, staring at the before and after photos of one Rita Skeeter. The “after” photo was decidedly worse than the before. She read the caption.


Rita Skeeter Gets a New Look
Photo by Bozo Baggins

[Go to: http://www.theburningpen.com/makeover/images/ritabuck1.jpg to see photo]

Hermione giggled and read the article.


Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet columnist and reporter was found bound with a sack over her head outside of the Daily Prophet building at five forty-five am this morning when employees reported for work. Upon removing the sack, it was discovered that the witch had been unflatteringly made over. Miss Skeeter said she was abducted at seven pm the night before and subjected to “treatments” by an unknown number of individuals. She accused Miss Hermione Granger of being involved, but investigation showed that the Hogwarts’ Spells Mistress was in the company of Auror Justice Forall at the time of the witch’s abduction which was supported by several eyewitnesses who placed both at Charlie’s Seafood restaurant. Investigation is on-going.

Hermione looked up at Minerva and the other witches.

“You had something to do with this?” she asked them.

The witches looked around then nodded, grinning.

“Us and Mr. Sweetmeats,” Pomona said, grinning wickedly. “It seems he owed Rita for trying to incite the public against him when he first opened his shop. He was quite good. He had an amazing tool that inserted hairs wherever he touched it to. A simple Densaugeo spell fixed her teeth, and her hair, well that was Mr. Sweetmeats as well. He called it a “Makeunder.” She looked absolutely ghastly. And there is a spell on her that won’t allow her appearance to be changed for an entire month.”

Hermione grinned at this. So Rita would get a chance to see how the other half lived.

“This is brilliant,” Hermione said, smiling at the witches.

They had gone through a lot to try and make up for their shortcomings. Abducting Rita? And enlisting Adam’s aid?

“Who talked to Adam?” she asked.

Minerva turned a few colors.

“I did,” she said in a tremulous voice. “He’s a bit much, but he grows on you after a while.”

The witch didn’t know what to make of the vampire Queen when she walked into his shop. Adam was as flamboyant as ever and pulled no punches when he told the Transfiguration teacher she needed to make an immediate appointment, which incidentally she did. When Minerva told him what she wanted to do and why, Adam was in for the long run.

“I will happily break that bitch down to her lowest denominator…not that it’s all too far a drop from where she is now,” the Queen said, his eyes flashing red and startling Minerva.

Together with the entire female staff, they hid disillusioned at the Daily Prophet, waiting for the witch to depart. They pounced on her and disapparated with her to the Beauty shop, where she was bound and blindfolded in total darkness, then they all went to work on her, the witches taking great pleasure in raggedly clipping her perfectly manicured nails and toes as Adam did the cosmetic changes. As the photo showed, she turned out a perfect fright, suffering from the same shortcomings as Hermione. She already had blotchy skin, but she used cover-up. Adam removed all of that.

Hermione looked at all the witches, who looked apprehensive as they waited for her response. Hermione looked back down at the photo of Rita. They really had gone all out in their effort to show they were sorry. They certainly made the witch pay.

“I guess we can start over,” Hermione said, smiling at the witches, who all let out screeches of delight and closed over her, hugging and kissing the witch before sweeping her off to the Great Hall and dragging her chair down to where they sat, chattering happily.

Albus sat at the end of the High Table beaming. It seemed that Hermione’s looks weren’t the only thing made over.

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That night, Hermione walked down to the Professor’s office with her arms full of notebooks and parchments. Balancing them precariously, she knocked on the door. After a moment it was pulled open and Severus looked down on her scowling.

“What is it, Miss Granger?” he asked snarkily, angry at being disturbed. He hadn’t been doing much more than staring into the flames of his fireplace, but still.

“These are for you, Professor. My research and notes on my experiments with the Dark Mark. I thought it might be easier for us to work together if you knew exactly what I have found out so far, and what I hope to find out. Everything is dated, indexed and footnoted.

“Of course it is,” the Professor said snidely, taking the books and parchments out of her hands.

I figure we can start next Saturday if you are free. Probably Sunday as well.

“If I am free, Miss Granger? Of course I am free…no matter what I planned to do. Albus’ directive…remember?” he said darkly, his eyes resting on her face.

“Yes, I remember. If there was any other way, Professor,” she began.

“Save it,” he hissed, slamming the door.

“What a bastard,” Hermione thought staring at the door for a moment before heading back to her rooms.

It was going to be a real joy working with the wizard.

Not.

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Severus brought the armload of research to his writing desk and piled it on top of it. There were at least ten bound books of research notes, and several parchments of very well drawn examples of the cadaver arms with the Dark Marks, notes in every corner.

Scowling, he sat down and looked through the books, finding the first carefully written notes. As he read, his scowl disappeared and a distinct look of interest replaced it, then one of complete absorption as he read the tests performed and the theories that resulted.

Hermione was of the opinion that the Phantom Summons was not caused by a residual magical signature because of the fluctuations of intensity. She believed there was an actual physical cause for the summons and theorized there was something viable left of the Dark Lord that was in the graveyard. Something distinctly…alive.

Severus felt a coldness in the pit of his stomach as he continued to read. If something living was left of the Dark Lord, then it was possible that he could be restored. He hoped the witch was wrong in her summation…but there was no way she could find out without a living subject to work with. He took a deep breath when she read there would out of necessity be instances when the summons would have to be answered and investigated. The Ministry had exhausted almost every imaginable means of trying to find any signs of the Dark Lord. How would the witch differ in her approach?

Severus considered. This was Hermione Granger. If there were one thing about the witch that always held true, it was that she thought outside the box. She enjoyed challenging and disproving accepted theories. If anyone could find out the mystery behind the summons, it was Hermione Granger.

Severus realized that not only would he be required to be in her lab, but also on call since the Summons happened randomly, and the witch would have to come to him when it occurred, or he would have to go to her. They would be working quite closely together. An eyebrow quirked.

The wizard had not yet decided what he was going to do about the witch. Working with her would most likely help him make his final decision. In the meantime, she would most likely continue to see the Auror…but judging by that kiss on the cheek, they would be taking it slow. Possibly too slow.

The wizard rubbed his eyes, tired now. The witch certainly had all her dragons in a row with this research. Severus found he did feel less apprehensive now that he knew what it was about. It didn’t answer his questions on whether her experiments would be painful. The witch had no way of knowing that since all she worked with were dead limbs. He would just have to find out when he reported to her next Saturday.

Severus closed the book he was reading, stretched and retired.

That night, he had another very wet dream about the witch.

The only difference was he was fucking her for all he was worth on a counter in her lab, broken beakers scattered on the floor as he drove into her hungrily.

He woke up, scourgified himself and lay there staring at the ceiling, thinking he was going to have to fuck the witch if this kept up.

It would be the only way to keep his sheets clean.

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A/N: So the witches and Hermione made up. Nice. And Severus having dialogues with himself concerning Hermione. Decisions, decisions. Please review.