Revenge of a Hermione Scorned.

I will get round to thanking you all personally, but once more am astounded by amount of reviews. All I can say is thank you. Thank you!!!



This is getting longer all the time. Am having far too much fun torturing my little Hermione. And I might let her have some fun soon!



And so we find her, the start of a New Year, starting it the way I am sure many of you will find familiar. I know I have. All of Hermione’s hangover symptoms have been lifted from my extensively researched study into the effects of alcohol upon the body. Usually my body.



Daya.



*



Appear to be blind.



Am blind.



Blind I tell you.



Fingers grope blindly to my eyes. Cringe at sticky substance that appears to be covering them. Pray to every god I can recall that these are my own sleep tears combined with extra strong spelled mascara. Tentatively grasp eyelashes between finger and thumb.



Oh fuck me.



That hurt.



Through crusty film can just make out my thumb which now has a fine collection of my eyelashes stuck to it.



Whole body is screaming in protest. Oh gods, what did he do to me last night?



More importantly, was it fun and did I enjoy it?



Am suddenly glad Snape resides in dungeon. Have feeling sunlight would be more than I could cope with right now.



Take deep breaths and begin to work on eye number two.



This is your punishment Hermione Granger, don’t you dare complain, this is your fault. All your fault.



Great. Even my inner monologue has turned against me. Firmly tell it to piss off, and leave me to die in peace.



Death is such sweet comfort. All I have to do is close my eyes and await for Death to sweep me into its embrace and take me to a place where my headache no longer exists. So what I’ll do is I’ll snuggle down on these crisp cotton sheets, and pull this lovely soft blanket over me, and wait for death. Sweet, blissful death. Fabulous idea Miss Granger, even if I must say so myself.



Miss Granger?



Aargh.



Appears Professor Snape has so firmly embedded himself in my mind (tired little voice pops up at the back, and asks, ‘Is that all he’s embedded himself in?’ Tired little voice is placed against the wall and shot without mercy) that I have even begun to refer to self as ‘Miss Granger’.



Interesting. And how long has this displacement of self been happening, Miss Granger?



Sigmund Freud psychoanalysist type with Austrian accent is next against the wall.



Anyway, I believe I was waiting for death to arrive.



Still waiting.



Hmm. Perhaps I’ll go back to sleep. This bed is so very warm, and very cosy. I snuggle down deeper into the covers and assume the starfish position that is automatic when alone in a large bed.



Something is wrong here. I throw my right arm out again, waiting for it to connect against the cold plaster of my bedroom wall. Apparently not. It simply thumps down upon the feather soft mattress that I am sprawled upon.



Am definitely not in own bed. Which means….



I trawl through my vodka hazed memories (from now on am drinking nothing stronger than pumpkin juice.) and come up with the last thing I can remember. Ah yes, why did that memory not come to torture me earlier? My last memory had been drunkenly attempting to kiss the life out of Professor Snape.



So the logical conclusion is that I’m in Professor Snape’s bed. Argh. It’s not my fault. It’s Ginny’s fault. She suggested it. Feel slightly better now blame has been placed upon someone other than myself. Time for my hung over self assessment. Hands waved in front of eyes… yes am no longer blind from having eyelids glued shut, and whatever it was I was drinking has not turned me blind permanently. Still have both eyebrows. And all my hair, although slightly tousled. Oh god, here comes the difficult bit. Assessing state of body.



Lift up covers and peer in nervously. Half expect to see Severus Snape peering up at me from between my thighs with an evil grin.



Phew. He’s not there. Neither does there seem to be any marks identifying his presence at any point during the night. Except for one little thing.



My dress is gone. Am dressed only in silver green shorts and bra set.



A fine mess I appear to be in. Semi naked in Severus Snape’s bed. I would say this was the cause of the nauseas feeling that was rising within me, if only it hadn’t been my fantasy for the last six years…



Oh gods. I have to get out of here. I’m alone. This is my chance. Now where is my sodding dress?



Oh crap. Can’t find it. Perhaps has been stolen by cross dressing Severus. Am concerned to find myself worrying more about the fact that it might suit him better than me, rather than Snape’s latent transvestite qualities.



Shake head to clear this image from mind. Severus Snape in a dress is not something I want to think about while I’m hung over. I have no choice. I have to get out of here. I have to find Ginny. Now.



*



If I had thought that overhearing Severus Snape describing me in a less than flattering manner was the most humiliating day of my life, then I could never have foreseen the humiliation that is occurring less than a week later, and one day into the new year. I’m not sure it can get more humiliating than having to run through my old school in nothing but my underwear having fled the bed of my ex potions teacher. Who may or may not have shagged me silly last night.



Have a mantra running through my head. It is ‘People are recovering from last night; no one is around to see me in my underwear…’



Argh. Except for Madame Hooch. Who is busy sneaking down the corridor towards me. In an equal state of undress. We simply stare at each other.



‘Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain. Extra tuition,’ she mutters as way of explanation. She notes the colour of my underwear, and snorts. ‘Please, not Snape?’



I can feel the colour rising in my cheeks. The ones of my face of course. The other set are currently being shown to the world in the skimpiest shorts known to wizard kind.



‘I owe you a drink, I think, Hermione, I’ve been waiting for someone to defrost that frozen chicken for years.’ She smirks. ‘Didn’t think he had it in him.’



I’m still incapable of forming a sentence. Mouth helplessly. Madame Hooch grins and pats me on the arm, with the hand that isn’t clutching her robes to her semi naked body, and then leaves me to it. Embarrassment is slowly turning to rage. I know exactly where to find Ginny.



*



‘Open the sodding door! Now! Open it! Or I swear I will hex your balls into the middle of next week! Remus!’



I’m pounding on the door. Dishevelled Remus peers round door.



‘I want to talk to Ginny,’ I demand, ‘Now!’



Can hear Ginny scuffling in background. Pass time waiting for her admiring Remus’s body from a purely aesthetic point of view of course. Remus is understandably nervous of new improved Hermione With Attitude. Particularly one who is now standing unashamedly in her underwear outside his chamber door.



Ginny peers round door as well. Damn the woman for looking deliciously tousled first thing in the morning. Remus grins goofily at her. Feel pang of jealousy that their night obviously went far better than mine. But I’m guessing at this point.



‘I need clothes, Ginny, now. Please?’



I’m suddenly realising how cold I am. Unfortunately the silky scraps that are passing for underwear on my body are not of the thermal variety.



Ginny is grinning at me with delight. Cow. Doesn’t she know I blame her for this entire situation.



‘So did you make him beg? And then tell him to sod off?’ She’s still grinning. I’m still freezing my arse off.



‘Ginny, clothes, please?’



She blushes. ‘I’m sorry, ‘Mione, I only have my dress from last night.’



I groan. Is this day going to get any worse?



‘Why don’t you use your wand?’ Remus asks helpfully.



I grit my teeth. Because my wand is in my temporary chambers. My temporary chambers which I cannot get into because of the security wards placed upon them.



The two of them disappear back behind the door, and there is a scuffling noise. Finally they reappear, Ginny holding one of Remus’s cloaks. I make a grab for it.



‘Ah, ah, ah. Details first.’ Where on earth did Ginny learn to be so damned manipulative? Am convinced when brains were being handed out in the Weasley household, Ginny got Ron’s share as well.



‘Just give me the cloak.’



‘Details.’



I sigh. Might as well say, I’m beginning to get used to the humiliation. Maybe I’ll become immune to it after a while…



‘I didn’t shag him. I got drunk, the bastard stood me up, I fell through a magical wall, and I tried to kiss him. Next thing I know I’m waking up in his bed. Alone.’



Ground, this is your cue to open up and swallow me whole. Don’t fail me now. Bugger.



Remus and Ginny are trying not to laugh. I take advantage of their amusement to grab the cloak and wrap it round myself. Smells vaguely of damp wolf. Delightful. Wonder if Remus uses his teeth? Must ask Ginny when I next see her alone. After I’ve killed her for getting me into this mess.



Am beginning to notice lust filled looks passing betwthe the pair. Think this might be time for me leave. ‘I’ve got to go,’ I mutter.



‘Can you get into your chambers?’ Ginny asks, as Remus’s hand snakes round her waist.



I shake my head. No, because if I could I would be attempting to drown myself in my bathtub.



‘Where are you going to go?’



The only sodding place I can. With a dark look that would intimidate even the most evil Deatheater (hopefully) I stalk back to the dungeons.



*



‘Miss Granger, I was expecting you.’



Does he have to sound so smug about it all? Refuse to look at his face and pull cloak tighter around me. Start to address his knees.



‘You have my dress,’ I mutter. How articulate does he want me to be?



‘Yes, I do.’ I didn’t think it was possible for him to sound any smugger, but somehow he achieves it. ‘I can retrieve it for you if you wish, and then you may return to your chambers.’



IhatethismansomuchyetIstillwanttoshaghimbutrightnowI’dsettleforkillinghiminaparticularlyviciousway



‘I can’t get into my chambers.’



‘Miss Granger, if you insist on speaking in a below audible voice, how can you expect me to assist you?’



Time to face my demons. I tilt my chin up defiantly. ‘You know full well I can’t get into my chambers without my wand.’



A raise of the regal eyebrow. Hmm. I want to lick that eyebrow.



‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Resist urge to roll eyes at tone that blatantly suggests the complete opposite. ‘However I fail to see what it has to do with me.’



It has everything to do with you, I scream at him in my head. He’s enjoying this. He’s really enjoying this. Git. Bastard. Fuckwit. Hate him. Decide its time for action and simply barge past him into the warmth of his chambers, at least the fucker had lit a fire.



‘So Miss Granger,’ Snape gestures at an armchair by the fire, at least he’s being civil. ‘How can I help you?’



Gone is the vampish Hermione of the night before. Am suddenly aware that I am sitting semi naked in front of my lust object. Who I may or may not have shagged. I have to know. Oh god. I hope this doesn’t count against my final mark for the year.



‘I…’ I lick my lips and start again. ‘I believe I propositioned you last night, Severus.’



Believe I have new humiliating episode to add to the list.



Something isn’t right here. Severus Snape is smiling. Oh gods, my stomach flips over, and have sudden urge to pounce on him. Now I see why he doesn’t smile much. By the gods, it’s a lethal weapon. Am having to stop myself grinning back, I can’t help it, am weak willed, wish I had a valid excuse for throwing myself on the floor by his feet and begging him to stroke my stomach. In fact, stroke any part of me you want, I have a few ideas where you could begin though…Places that are getting very damp just thinking about you stroking them…



Press thighs together hurriedly. Am sure this isn’t the time to ‘accidentally’ let my legs fall apart, and the cloak slide from my shoulders. Let me find out whether I shagged him first.



‘Indeed you did, Miss Granger, or perhaps after last night I should call ‘He ‘Hermione’?’ He’s standing over me, intimidating and unbelievably sexy. Am face to face with his zip. Hand itches to reach out and unzip it and drag his cock out. Behave, Hermione, listen to what he is saying to you…vampish Hermione is fighting with sensible one…



‘And it would have been rude to refuse such a delightful offer…’



My head snaps up.



Head protests at rapid movement and threatens to implode.



Mouth is dry. Mouth is dry.



‘We didn’t?’ I stammer.



Demonic he stands over me.



‘Oh but we did, Hermione. You mean, you don’t remember?’



Oh dear gods, Severus Snape is laughing….



He’s laughing…



And my humiliation is complete.