Revenge of a Hermione Scorned.

A/N: My very first Harry Potter fanfic, am venturing into new territory here. Apologies if characters seem out of canon, they are still very new to me when it comes to writing them….take me away from elves and men with big swords, and I panic a bit. I decided to have a play around with something new, if it’s really awful I do apologise!


HG/SS pairing, some reference to HP/DM

Smut in later chapters (not that this is going to be very long)… mild references to smut here.
Smut is good. Smut makes people smile. Or maybe it’s just me.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Except for three sets of the Harry Potter books and a stuffed toy Fluffy. Oh, and one poster. Yup. That’s about it. Wouldn’t say no to Professor Snape though.

This is just a quick edit of Chapter One, to get the formatting right, I promise you, you will have a conclusion within the next 24 hours hopefully, am working hard on it right now. Have had flu and not been in writing mood (difficult to stay upright long enough!), but am making up for it now!

*

This was the most humiliating day of my life. Well, one of. It definitely ranks up there with the ‘oh dear I appear to have turned myself into a cat’ polyjuice incident and incredible growing teeth incident. (Although that did have its benefits, even if mum and dad went a little bit mental over it.) Or how about the time Dean Thomas spiked my morning pumpkin juice with Veritaserum…
(How had he gotten it? How??) Oh dear god, the entire school knew what colour my favourite knickers were….

At least that’s all they knew. Oh god… what would have happened if Dean had decided to ask something a little bit more personal. Such as my secret urges to get Snape alone in detention and…

No.

No.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

Bastard.

Pale, creepy, introverted, arrogant, smug, infuriating, ohgodIamsoangryIcan’tthinkofthewords, BASTARD of a potions master.

I hate him.

Nay, I despise him.

I have no urges to tangle my fingers in that dark hair, and press my mouth to those surprisingly full lips of his and beg him to take me right there, right now, on that huge sturdy wooden desk of his, and do things with those wonderful long fingers, fingers that would slide, stroke, and tease all the way….

Nope. None at all.

Bastard.

*
I storm into the flat, throwing my bag down onto the sofa. Even my unusually dense housemate doesn’t fail to notice my bad mood. This is in itself a surprise, if it’s not six feet tall, muscled and literally throbbing with testosterone, Chloe isn’t interested.

‘Good day?’ she calls nervously from where she is sprawled on the tiny item of furniture laughing described as a three man sofa. I pause in my stomping.

‘Fine.’ I say bluntly, before slamming my bedroom door shut. I try not to take too much delight in the puzzled look on her face as her four brain cells struggle to come to a logical conclusion. Hmm. She appears to have given up and the TV has been turned on to some mindless soap opera.

I stand in the middle of my room, and force myself to breath normally. It has been a long day. Too long. And the bloody nerve of that man. I can feel my blood begin to boil at the very thought of him…

Oh dear.

Isn’t a broken mirror seven years bad luck?

Having retrieved my rather heavy copy of ‘Commonly Used Medicinal Potions of the Late 19th Century’, and waved my wand in the general direction of my now smashed mirror, I’ve composed myself enough to think rationally about the events of today.

I come to one conclusion.

Albus Dumbledore is to blame for everything. Absolutely sodding everything.

Really. If he hadn’t contacted my university, where I am happily studying towards my teaching degree, I wn’t n’t have ended up being offered a placement at Hogwarts. And if I hadn’t been encouraged by him in my final year to specialise in potions, then
I wouldn’t have ended up training to be a Potions Mistress. And if he hadn’t done all of the above, I wouldn’t be stuck in the dungeons of Hogwarts with the most evil bastard known to woman kind; Severus Snape.

If it wasn’t bad enough that for seven years of my life I had been forced to suffer under his glare as ‘Know It All Granger’, having
regular points deducted from Gryffindor with no other reason than his general dislike of me, and putting up with his scathing comments every two minutes, I’m now having to grovel to him as it is he who is responsible for all my marks this year.

Fucking wonderful.

I will kill Albus Dumbledore. I will do what Lord Voldemort failed to do, and finally wipe that twinkle from his eyes. And I will take great delight in doing so.

I’m interrupted from my fantasy of slowly torturing Professor Dumbledore using red hot pokers and a smearing of honey, by a tap on the window. A snowy white owl is perched there. Hedwig. I groan inwardly.easeease don’t let this be another invitation to
one of Harry’s and Draco’s dinner parties. Ever since the pair of the decided they were made for each other, they have been trying to match make every single (in both senses of the word) one of their friends. In fact, Harry is still convinced that Ron is the man for me. Problem is, is that Ron seems to think so too. That is, when he’s not busy shagging Chloe enthusiastically. Honestly. Doesn’t he realise that I can hear hiAppaApparently not. I’ve learnt an awful lot about Ron’s bedroom habits since I introduced him to the walking Barbie doll that shares my flat with me. (What wasthe university thinking? I can only think that it was a cruel cosmic joke that placed Chloe and I together in this fleapit.) For example, when Ron….ahem…shall we say ‘reaches the pinnacle of his pleasure’… he emits a noise that is disturbingly reminiscent of the infamous sixth year Magical Creatures lesson
where a randy Blast Ended Skrewt attempted to mount a Niffler. Gods, I nearly fell out of my bed laughing, it definitely killed any curiousity I might have in Ron’s talents in the sack!

Hedwig is still impatiently waiting for me at the window. Opening it, I receive a sharp peck on the hands for my troubles. I almost decide not to reward her, but as she didn’t break the skin this time, I give in, and pass her an owl treat. She relents and sticks her leg out long enough for me to remove my post.

‘I’ll reply later’ I tell her, and with a haughty hoot, sheflies off into the cold night sky. It’s obviously not a good enough answer for her, but at this point, I really don’t care. I’m staring in horror at my post.

He’s bloody done it again. The meddling, twinkled eyed, old git.

A New Years Ball. All teachers (and teaching aides…can’t even get out of it on a technicality! Damnit.) are required to attend.

Git. Git. Git.

Grabbing my quill I scribble a note.

‘Ginny,

Get here NOW! Urgent. Am going to die.

Hermione.’

Through the open window I give a piercing whistle, and sure enough, a passing owl is soon winging its way towards me, its wings framed against the night sky, the moon a frozen ball of ice in the inky night. I’m too worked up to notice the sodding poetry of the night.

‘Ginny Weasley.’ I instruct breathlessly, and the owl is gone.

I’m still frantically pacing the room trying to ignore the continuous whine that is seeping in through the walls from Chloe’s TV programme, when there is a slight crackle in the air, and with a ‘pop’ Ginny apparatus into my room. Her thick red hair is wild, and there is a crazed look in her eyes. She’s also waving her wand around as if anticipating a stampede of psychopaths. What she gets is only slightly more unusual.

I’m not one for drama queen or diva-ish behaviour but at the sight of my best friend, I throw myself face down on the bed with a wail that would have made Moaning Myrtle proud.

‘’Mione?’

Another wail.

‘Not Snape again?’ I can hear the sigh in her voice.

I thrust my mail in her general direction.

‘Oh, Hermione, I know that they are as irritating as hell, but come on, the dinner party won’t be that bad…’

I lift my head from where it has been buried in my pillow with as much dignity as I can muster. ‘Not that one.’

‘Oh.’

My head is back in the pillow again. I can’t work out if it’s a good oh, or a bad oh.

‘It could be fun, just think, all the students, celebrating New Year.’

‘It’s a muggle ceremony,’ I hiss. ‘Why on earth has Albus decided to celebrate it this year?’

‘Maybe he thought it would be safer than celebrating Beltane. Or Samain’s Eve. That’s always a strange one.’

I sniff pathetically. Only in front of Ginny would I let my composure slip. She recognises the signs.

‘So it is Snape?’

‘Bastard.’ I me. e.

‘What has he done this time?’

‘Bastard.’

‘Yes, we’ve established he’s a bastard, now what happened?’

So it all comes out. The whole painful, humiliating lot.

*

I’d been researching the uses of mugwort in common potions, and had been wandering through the library, relishing the opportunity to be out of the dungeons for more than five minutes. It wasn’t particularly exciting, just one of the many boring tasks that Severus Snape delighted in setting me. With gritted teeth I had made my way to the library, and found peace in the familiar surroundings. After filling a few feet of parchment with various useless bits of information, I wiped the ink stains from my hands, and with a rueful sigh I stood up. My neck cricked in that deliciously satisfying way, oh yes, about as much as pleasure
my body got these days, my love life had been seriously put on hold since I had been trapped in the dungeons of Hogwarts.
Not that there had been that much action recently, but still, if I wasn’t here, perhaps I could be out there keeping an eye out for a potential playmate. Someone tall, with a fine physique and a tongue that could be used either for making intelligent remarks,
or be put to much better use…

I was walking through the hallways approaching the dungeons, feeling that familiar ache begin deep inside me as I imagined just what exactly a tongue could do to satisfy me, teasing me, lapping, delving into me, and bringing me closer and closer to that edge…oh gods, it had been too long…

‘Hermione?’

I froze. Had I actually said something out loud? Or, oh gods, no, had I moaned? I mean, I knew I was seriously horny, but still, being caught moaning in the middle of my old school was not exactly proper behaviour for an ex headgirl…

‘Miss Granger?’

The incredulous voicoke oke again. With a sinking feeling in my stomach I recognised those precise, fluid tones.

‘Yes, Professor Snape?’ I whispered.

‘Headmaster, are you mad?’

For a moment, my confusion was cote. te. I glanced down at myself, convinced that I would see long flowing robes, not to mention an equally long and flowing white beard.

Nope. Just my usual robes. Thank fuck for that. This year was stupid enough as it was without changing into an elderly, eccentric wizard with a penchant for sweets. I peered around the corner. Ah yes. Albus and Severus in a cosy chat. And they appeared to be discussing me. I quickly ducked back, they hadn’t seen me.

I shouldn’t have listened in. Unfortunately though, they were standing directly in my way. I had no choice. Honestly, no choice at all.

‘I can assure you, Severus, I am not mad. Perhaps I am caught up in the spirit of the season, but not mad.’

‘Hermione Granger?’

There was a stunned tone to Snape’s voice that I did not find particularly flattering. Upon reflection, that wasn’t the most unflattering aspect of the whole conversation. In fact, things started there and progressed rapidly downhill.

‘Yes, Severus,’ there was an impatient edge to Dumbledore’s voice now. ‘Your current assistant. Headgirl of Hogwarts three years ago. Present at the final battle against Voldemort the same year. Received the highest scores ever recorded in her N.E.W.T.s. That Hermione Granger.’

‘I am aware of her, Headmaster.’

Thank you Professor Snape. Seven years of teaching me, and one term as your assistant, and you are ‘aware’ of me. Delighted, I’m sure. It appeared he hadn’t finished.

‘I would rather spend the evening pulling my own teeth.’

Could his tone be any flatter?

Apparently it could.

‘Shortly followed by removing my eyeballs.’

‘Severus…’

‘Even teaching Longbottom for a further five years would be slightly more amusing…’

‘Professor Snape!’ Dumbledore at his most stern was a force to be reckoned with. ‘I had thought that it would be a pleasant
idea for the teaching staff to accompany each other to the Ball, and since Miss Granger is your assistant, I had rather presumed you might have something in common with her. Or would you rather I paired you with Sybil?’

There was silence.

And then…

‘Since the only other option is that death obsessed stick insect, I shall accompany Miss Granger.’

The tips of my ears began to turn pink. How dare he…

‘However, it remains to be seen if Miss Granger will be able to pull her rather bush like head out of whatever book she has placed it in long enough to for me to accompany her. Perhaps she will even make the effort to dress in something other than the shapeless robes she favours, I am curious to see if the ink on her hands can actually be removed…’

‘That is enough Severus.’ Dumbledore sighed. ‘I had hoped that you would be able to find a common level with Miss Granger, her knowledge of potions is excellent, beyond any student I have encountered at Hogwarts for quite some time. However, even the
events of three years ago seem incapable of ever reconciling your differences…’

I have to admit I didn’t hear much more of what was said. The blood was pounding in my ears, and I genuinely felt like I would faint for a moment.

Bastard.

Bastardbastardbastard.

Yes.

I think I was angry with him.

I think that was the point where I threw the books to the ground, and the parchment, and stomped off to the edge of Hogwarts grounds (bloody no apparating on school ground rule) where I apparated home.

I sniffed again.

Ginny was standing over me still, mouth slightly open. ‘Are you sure you’re not overreacting a bit? I mean was he really that bad?’

‘Bush like head. Shapeless robes. Permanent ink stains. But prefers me to a death obsessed stick insect.’

‘Well, when you put it like that…’ Ginny was a good friend to have I decided. Said the minimal amount needed, and then came up with practical conclusions. One could almost forgive her for being the gorgeous sleek creature she was.

We sat in silence for a while, Ginny had made herself comfortable on my desk, she was biting her lip the way she did when she was thinking hard.

‘It doesn’t actually say you have to…’ she began. With a groan I gestured to the scroll once more. She unravelled it to where there was a personal note penned to me.

\'Hermione,

\'I have organised the teachers into pairs fhis his ball, as a way of showing our unity as a teaching staff, and to better improve inter-staff relationships. As you are already working so successfully with Professor Snape, you will be delighted to learn that he has agreed to accompany you to this ball. I’m sure you will both have a wonderful night, perhaps this is an opportunity to cement your working relationship?

With kind regards

Albus.

‘Ah.’ Ginny muttered.

Ah indeed. Once again I cursed Albus Dumbledore and his meddling ways. ‘I have no choice,’ I sighed, ‘I have to spend the evening with a man who considers me only marginally a better date than Sybil Trelawney. Why can’t I have a normal life for once?’

‘Hermione?’ Ginny was still staring at the parchment. ‘You don’t think Dumbledortryitrying to pull a Harry and Draco, do you?’

‘Harry and Draco?’ I repeated, confused.

It clicked.

‘Match make?’ My mouth fell open.

‘Well, from the sounds of it, he was very keen to remind Snape of your positive qualities.’

A nasty sick feeling was rising in my stomach. ‘Me?’ I squeaked. ‘And Snape?’

I tried not to let Ginny see how much the idea actually appealed to me. Unbidden, I had a sudden image of myself in Snape’s arms, his hair silky underneath my fingers, his body pressed against mine…

I swallowed.

I would not let my lust starved body take over.

‘How horrible…’ I managed to splutter out. I barely convinced myself, Ginny was giving me a strange look, I could tell she could see straight through me. To her credit she said nothing.

Ginny was rereading the letter. There was something in the way her shoulders were set that disturbed me.

‘He’s hardly going to want me though, is he?’ I finally spat out. ‘After all, he’s made his opinions about my appearance quite clear, hasn’t he?’

‘True,’ Ginny was thoughtful. ‘But, have you ever really made an effort around him?’

I blushed. To be honest I didn’t. Was there any point in dressing up to spend my time cutting up ingredients for various potions, or being forced to clean cauldrons without magic (one of Snape’s more sadistic chores), or hours spent researching in the library? Not really. I ran a hand over my wild hair. When was the last time I had used a smoothing potion on it? The last time I had enhanced my dark eyes with clever makeup, or a mild appearance enhancing spell? I had these abilities at my fingertips, yet I rarely used them. I glanced at Ginny, with her long, sleek red hair, creamy pale skin, even in her casual robes; she was a witch to be reckoned with. Even the light dusting of freckles across her nose enhanced her features rather than distracted from them. I could feel my own pasty skin turning pinkwith embarrassment.

It seemed Ginny was thinking along the same lines as me, she was beginning to grin at me.

‘Perhaps it is time for you to make an effort,’ she gave a low chuckle that was filled with mischief.

I was definitely catching on. ‘Make an effort and show him what he’s missing?’ I laughed, already imagining the expression on his face as the new improved Hermione Granger sauntered into his dungeons.

‘Exactly. But perhaps we should make him pay for his derogatory comments?’ the petite redhead waggled her eyebrows at me.

Oh crap. I suddenly realised what she meant. Apparently I was having a slow night tonight. As if to emphasise her words, Ginny gave her wand a quick wave, and there was a jet of silvery green light twisting in front of me. I watched fascinated as the jet began to take shape, forming itself into the skimpiest of bras, delicate, sheer, and unbelievably sexy, it fell onto the bed, soon joined by a sleek pair of shorts, brief, and silky, they would skim over my skin, caressing it, I gave a shiver at the thought of that material
against my skin.

‘Ginny, I can’t wear those for him,’ I breathed, my sensible side protesting at the thought of deliberately setting out to seduce Severus Snape. But then I thought of his comments, and I began to smile, revenge was indeed sweet. ‘Well, maybe I can.’

This was going to be fun, I decided. It just had to work…