Just Around the Riverbend

AHH!! I a new chapter! This story is getting so much more attention than I thought! And I like that. I'm a review whore, and I love getting reviews! So I will answer a few!

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Avanell
Sureves Epans
Lady Disdain
Sampdoria
Heidi191976
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Jess

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Hermione sat in front of her television, flipping through the channels with little interest. She blew a strand of hair out of her face before keeping the channel on a documentary about the Loch Ness Monster.

“Nessie isn’t dangerous, you twits….but if you don’t stop probing her lake she’s going to eat every single one of you…” Hermione said. “Muggles.” She said, promptly aware of the irony of insulting Muggles whilst playing with one of their inventions.

She sighed softly, and flicked off the TV. She needed to look for a job. Getting up from the couch, she approached her kitchen table, which had the job listings from the Prophet spread out over the entire area. Some jobs were already marked off for being too menial, or not challenging enough. If she set out now, she could probably be done at least gathering applications by the end of the day.

~~

Hermione sat at a table in the Leaky Cauldron, her job listing section in front of her with large red X’s dotting the paper. She had been through every job half-way suitable for her, and all of them had said the same thing: over qualified. How the hell can you be over qualified for a fucking job? Damn it!

So here she was, drowning her sorrows with a large bowl of steaming hot soup.

“Hermione? I thought it was you…”

Hermione cringed at the sound of that voice, but looked up to see Ron standing in front of her.

“Hey.” He said softly. Hermione looked back down at her soup, and took another spoonful. “I wanted to apologize.” He said quickly. Hermione put the spoon down in the bowl, and sat back in her chair, crossing her arms.

“Whatever under this gods-forsaken sun would convince you that I wanted your apology. We’re over, Ron. You’re a selfish prat and I got sick of it.” She snapped. Ron winced at the harsh tone of her voice.

“I…I know…” he said. “I was really stupid. I didn’t realize how much you meant to me until you were gone. Won’t you please reconsider leaving? I promise I’ll change.” He pleaded. Hermione’s expression hardened.

“No, Ron, you won’t change. You can’t change. You’ll always be a selfish little berk who wants what he wants when he wants. You’ll always be whiny and unappreciative….and worst of all…you’ll always be a chauvinistic pig. I can’t deal with that. Now you can either leave right now, or I’ll blast your arse off.” Hermione said. She saw a hard glint in Ron’s blue eyes.

“You shouldn’t be so picky, Mione.” He said. “You’ve never exactly been popular with the guys. They aren’t exactly beating down your door to have a go with you, eh? Maybe you should rethink turning down offers.” He hissed. Hermione had her wand drawn in a flash, and had it pressed under Ron’s chin.

“Leave.” She snapped. He reached up and pushed her hand away, and then took a step back.

“You’re only upset because you know I’m right.” He said softly, and turned to walk away. As he left the building, Hermione felt angry tears well up in her eyes.

“You’re wrong, Ronald. You’re wrong.” She whispered, more to herself than anyone. And with a few curious stares being directed at her, she gathered up her things, and headed towards the public Apparition point. When she arrived at her flat, she threw the crumpled newspaper as hard as she could. She collapsed into the nearest chair, and began to cry. This had been a hard week. She had saved up money, and could live comfortably for a little while without work…but she didn’t like living off of savings. That money should be for emergencies and for later when she wanted to upgrade her living arrangements.

“Mione?”

She whirled around when she heard Harry’s voice. Although he had gone back to Grimmauld Place, he visited her often. He had probably been waiting on her to return from her job-hunt.

“Did you not find a job?” he asked. Still sniffling pitifully, she shook her head. Harry came and sat down on the arm of the chair. He looked at her closely, and narrowed his bright green eyes. “That’s not all that’s bothering you, is it?” he asked. She shook her head, and hiccupped.

“I saw Ron.” She said. She laid her head against Harry’s side when he grunted angrily. “He tried to apologize and get me to come back to him.”

“And what did you say?” Harry asked softly.

“I told him to get lost or I’d hex him, and he t-told me that nobody w-wanted me….that I should reconsider d-declining his offer.” She said. “Am I hideous, Harry? Am I such a social retard that I can’t get a boyfriend?” she asked suddenly. Harry could practically sense the desperation in her voice.

“No, love. You’re not a social retard. You just haven’t found someone that can match that fierce intelligence yet. You can’t just have any old bloke…you’re special, and you need a special guy to keep up with you.” Harry said wisely, and poked her on the nose. “You’ll find that someone, Mione. And you’ll have great intellectual debates, and discuss the latest methods of doing things. And when you’re ready…and only when you are ready…you’ll pop out curly-headed little babies that will read by the age of one.” He said. Hermione gave a small chuckle, but Harry could see that his words had calmed her profoundly.

“What would I do without such a good friend?” she asked softly, her eyes closing as Harry began to rub her hair.

“You’d have an emotional break down and be thrown into the psyche ward at St. Mungos. Gilderoy Lockhart would be your bunk mate.” He said. Hermione gave a sleepy laugh.

“Jerk.” She murmured. Harry gently withdrew himself from the arm of the chair, and Hermione snuggled up into the cozy chair, physically and emotionally exhausted from her day. Harry grabbed a fluffy throw from her sofa, and wrapped it around her.

“But I’m your jerk.” He whispered with a grin.

“Damn straight.” Hermione snuffled, and when her breathing leveled off Harry knew she was asleep.

~~

Daisy had managed to keep her provocation of Jacques at a low level on Sunday, and Wednesday she kept his wrath at verbal reproaches. But the following Sunday was proving a bit harder than she imagined.

She had already pissed him off by not addressing him properly when she came through the door. He was a bit red-faced from when she had done miserably on her ‘When to be Silent’ quiz, and he looked damn-near ready to foam at the mouth when she couldn’t remember what he had told her about keeping her eyes to the floor. She kept locking her gaze with his, and like staring at a strange dog, it was pissing him off. She was supposed to listen, damn it, and so far all she’d done was take up oxygen and space in this little room.

His patience snapped when he heard the unmistakable ‘pop’ of chewing gum. He turned around from where he had been writing on the board, and stared at her. She was looking down at her paper, and it didn’t look like she was taking notes. Jacques put down the piece of chalk, and approached her desk. She looked up and jumped when she realized he was so close, and tried to slide a piece of paper over her obvious doodles. Jacques reached forward and snatched the papers from her desk.

The sheet she had used to cover her doodles was covered in notes. They were really abrupt, crappy notes, but notes nonetheless. The parchment underneath was covered in doodles of a cartoonish French character with a beret and little mustache. She had drawn an Eiffel Tower upside down on top of the little character’s head, and made him obviously naked (and quite hairy) except for a censor bar drawn like the French flag. What made his blood boil was the little caption beneath it. ‘France in my Pants’ did not exactly endear him to her.

“Zat is it.” He said, and went to his desk. He slammed the drawing down on the table, and opened the top drawer. Daisy stiffened in her chair. “Come up here, Miss Melfy.” He said, and reached into the desk drawer to pull out the strap.

“Uh…I think I’ll just stay back here…” she said, and swallowed hard.

“Zat…was not a request. Zat was an order. You have two seconds to get up here before I drag you up by ze hair on your head.” He hissed. Daisy stood from her desk, and walked up to the front where Jacques stood. “Pull down your trousers, and bend over ze desk.” He said. Daisy raised a dark eyebrow.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa….pull down my pants?” she asked incredulously. She had been under the impression it would be over her pants. Which would still hurt….but not quite like that…

“Oui. You can either pull down your trousers, or I will do it for you. And trust me: if I have to do it for you, you won’t sit for ze rest of ze week.” He said harshly. Daisy began to tremble softly. He…he couldn’t do this! Could he? Not in America, he couldn’t. But her cousin had said magical England was a lot more old-fashioned than its American counterpart. Oh shit. Her cousin had given this idiot permission to do this! Damn, damn, damn!

Jacques took a step forward, and her hands flew to the buttons on her jeans.

“I’m going! I’m going!” she said, her voice breaking. She unfastened her pants with trembling hands, and hooked her thumb in the waist of them. She stalled only for a moment, and when she saw Jacques advance again, she pulled her denim jeans down to her knees, leaving her plain pink panties up.

“Pull zose….hideous things down as well…” he said. Daisy’s face drained of all color.

“But-”

“Do it or I will do it for you!” he hissed angrily. Daisy began to cry softly and gingerly pulled down her pink panties. “Over the table.” Jacques barked. Daisy shuffled closer to the table, and bent over its edge, displaying her bottom to Jacques.

Jacques had been a bit nervous to make Daisy bare her bottom. Although he had never once acted on it, he sometimes felt attraction to female pupils he taught. But he was relieved when he discovered he harbored no sort of connection to Daisy.

“Are you ready?” Jacques asked, pulling back the thick strap. Daisy took in a shuddering breath.

“Yeah.” The leather slapped against her bottom, and Daisy yelped loudly. “Shit!” she hissed, and stood up straight. “That hurt, damn it!” Jacques put his hand on her back, and pushed her down again. His hand stayed between her shoulders, and he struck her bottom again, the strap landing in exactly the same spot. Daisy cried out again, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. The strap came down over and over, lighting Daisy’s bottom on fire with its wrath. He was hitting the same spot again and again, making for a centralized and very painful punishment. She squirmed and kicked as best she could with her pants around her knees, trying her darndest to get away from the painful strap.

Daisy was shaking with loud sobs, and tears were streaked across her face and the desk’s surface. Her nails were scratching at the stain on the desk, leaving marks on the smooth wood.

Her punishment went on for several minutes. Jacques was unmerciful and relentless, his pace never slowing until he finally stopped. Daisy slipped to her knees, her body shaking violently from the force of her sobs. Her hands went to her throbbing bottom, and she gingerly touched the welted place where the strap had fallen.

“We are done here for today. Compose yourself, girl, and leave.” He said, turning and leaving her in the classroom by herself.

Daisy used the edge of the desk to haul herself up, and gingerly pulled up her knickers. She pulled up her jeans with a choked sob, and walked stiffly from the room. She headed straight for her room, and threw open the door. When she was safely inside she slammed the door and locked it, before quickly ridding herself of the painful denim jeans. She changed into loose pajamas that Lucius had gotten for her, and collapsed on her bed. That stupid French bastard had hit her!

Her bottom was throbbing painfully as she began to cry again. This was proving to be more than she could handle. Her sewing lessons were fun…Miss Cummings and her foreign languages really weren’t as bad as she’d thought….but Jacques… Jacques was cruel and mean. She hated him. And he hated her. And-

She was brought out of her thoughts by a soft tapping at her window. She got off of her bed slowly, and went to the window. She smiled a bit when she recognized Hermione’s owl, Feathers, and opened the window. Feathers swooped in, and landed on one of Daisy’s tables. She stuck out her leg so that Daisy could retrieve her missive, and then tilted her head forward so that Daisy could stroke her head and back for a bit. Daisy smiled at the bird’s antics.

“Silly Feathers.” She sniffled, her smile widening when Feathers rubbed against her hand like a cat might. “You don’t have to stay, Feathers. I’ll send my reply with Agtni.” She said. Feathers gave a hoot, and then flew out the opened window.

Daisy looked at her letter, and felt her tears welling up again. This letter couldn’t have come at a better time. She really needed someone to talk to….even if it was just on parchment.

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Next chapter: When Good Girls Go Native On Your Ass

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