Don't Try To Change Me

A/N: So I've been inspired to write my first ever Ginny/Severus piece. Go figure. Meredith Brooks and her long time emotional moving song, "Bitch" has completely gotten behind the inspiration of this one. Please read and review. I love the reviews.

Despite numerous please and various threats, Severus Snape stood donned in his elegant black dress robes, scowl firmly planted on his pale as ever face. The ministry’s War Hero Ball was the last place he wanted to be, but the portrait of Albus Dumbledore proved to be more insistent and formidable than the man himself had been. And there he was, a stoic man, statuesque; he could have been a part of the golden fountain beside him had it not been for the immense amount of black that cloaked his figure.

Orders of Merlin had been awarded hours ago and he’d been forced to stand in front of everyone while he was decorate like a rather dour and depressed Christmas tree, honor after honor bestowed upon him for his parts in the war and the final battle. The party was in full swing by the time he’d managed to slip as far away as the fountain in the lobby and fortunately precious few had been bold or drunk enough to approach him. Only one witch had been so intoxicated as to ask him to dance, and blessedly two of her more sober friends dragged her away before he was given the chance to hex her.

Alone with thoughts and heavy metals dangling around his neck, Severus stared off ahead to the door. If he left now, he might still be able to make it back to Hogwarts before midnight and thus avoid one of the more major shifts in staircases, which he’d figured into an almost repeatable pattern.

“Snape, you bastard!”

Turning his head to the sound of his name, his eyes caught sight with a flurry of glittering red storming toward him.

“You bastard!” she repeated, her heels clacking against the marble floor, the sequence of her shining crimson cocktail dress catching glints of gold from the fountain, reflection them about, making her gown appear to be crawling over her skin as she thundered forward. The beads dangling from the end of the dress clacked and swished against each other as the redhead approached; a snag in her stocking evident from where one of said beads had caught in the nylon.

“Ginny!” Hermione Granger shouted, doing her best to come after the girl in her crystal glass heels, stumbling over the long train of her evening gown, the saving grace of Charlie Weasley’s strong arms being the only thing keeping her face from the marble floor.

The little beaded bangles sounded like large glasses clanking against one another as she drew closer to the man. Her pale freckled knuckles were sailing across his nose before he ever had the chance to dodge her punch. “You murderous, scheming, self righteous, self serving, abominable, bastard!” she shrieked. “You don’t deserve these! You’re a bloody coward!” Her tiny fingers began to claw at the medals around his neck.

“Ginny!” Hermione cried again, practically on top of her friend as the red head continued her assault on the decorated war hero.

“It’s your fault,” she wailed, swinging her fist back intending to clock the man square in the jaw. But his hand clamped firmly on her wrist, preventing the blow. He did not, however, have time to prevent her other fist which swung unexpectedly forward into his gut. Solar plexus forced inward, Severus gasped for breath, literally having the wind knocked out of him, his grip on the youngest Weasley’s wrist fell. A trail of blood was already streaming from his nose, which doubled its flow as she swung back and punched him again.

“Miss Weasley!” he growled in his defense, attempting to reach for his wand only to have it throttled from his fingers as she began to hurl herself upon him, smacking at his face, clawing at his skin, pulling on his hair. Struggling against the fiery redhead, he tried to grasp both hands at once, but only managed to get her left arm. Her right arm swung forward and hit him square in the jaw.

“You cost me my mother!” she shrieked, swinging another punch to the side of his eye. “My brother and my lover!” each accusation was accentuated with another punch to his face. Two pairs of arms grabbed her by the shoulders as she struggled against them, still trying to get at the man. “You bastard! You’re the reason he’s dead! You’re the reason they’re all dead!” Kicking her legs as she was wrenched from the man, the spike of her red stiletto fell hard against his chest.

The kick to his chest sent him keeling off balance and before he could catch himself he tumbled back over the slippery ledge and into the basin of the golden fountain.

“What in blue blazes is going on in here? I just had that statue repaired!” Rufus Scrimgeour growled as he swept into the lobby, eyeing a struggling Ginny Weasley, one of the decorate heroes, bound in the arms of her older brother and dear friend. His attention quickly turned to the splashing and spluttering man in the basin of the fountain. “Good God, Severus Snape, get out of that fountain!”

“It’s not his fault, Minister,” Charlie said, struggling to maintain a hold on his combative sister, who’s eyes were now filled with tears as she continued to shriek. “Ginny’s a little— well a lot drunk, and she—”

“Just get her out of here, Charlie,” Hermione muttered, waving frantically to Fred and George who had come running into the lobby just after the Minister. The twins came over, each grabbing a shoulder on their sister and helped Charlie pick her up.

“Murderer!” she shouted as she was hoisted in the air.

“Come on, Gin,” Fred said.

Hermione stepped out of glass heels and moved as quickly as she could over to the fountain where Severus Snape was trying to pull himself out of the basin. His face was covered in blood. No one had made a move to help him, the Minister turning his attentions to Charlie who was rapidly explaining the situation in great detail. Moving toward him she extended her hand. “Let me help you, I’m terribly sorry she’s acting like this.”

His grip was firm as he pulled himself up and almost stumbled to the floor, but Hermione helped catch him before he completely upended himself. “Thank you, Miss Granger,” he sputtered, blood spewing from his lips.

“Goodness, she got you good,” Hermione sighed and pulled her wand from somewhere in the frills and lace of her very Cinderella-like ball gown. “I’m dreadfully sorry, she’s not been herself really,” she muttered. Though she’d never received official training, five years out of school (most of which was spent in battle) she’d taught herself to be quite the impressive healer.

Severus simply nodded. He was grateful for Hermione Granger, though she’d never been his favorite pupil in school, she’d proved to be the only one who’d stuck up for him ever since the incident. She believed his causes were for the greater good and she’d always sided with him, if sympathetically, and showed him a good deal more respect than he felt he often deserved. “Thank you again, Miss Granger.”

“I am terribly sorry for her, Severus,” she sighed, pressing her hand against his nose, trying to set what seemed to be a very minor break that Ginny had forced into the bone. He winced. “Oh, sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he muttered, trying not to scowl. “It’s been broken more times than I can count.”

She chuckled wryly, and continued to patch up his face. “There, seems like most of the bleeding has stopped.” There was silence between them as she brushed strands of his now blood mated hair back away from his face. Her cinnamon orbs glittered at his, moist with tears. With a shaky hand he reached forward to brush her tears away. “Oh, I’m such a mess, you’re the one bleeding... it’s just been so difficult.” She muttered, trying her best to keep the tears from her eyes.

“It’s been difficult for us all, Hermione,” he said softly. It wasn’t often he used her given name, but it always seemed to comfort the girl when he did. She was the closest thing he’d ever had to a friend, Albus aside and it was the least he could do after all she’d done for him. “Some of us choose to quietly brood about it, some of choose to make a career out of what we’ve learned from it. Others get piss drunk and take their physical aggressions out on others…”

“It’s been especially difficult for her,” she sniffed. It was true, though they’d all suffered great loss when Albus Dumbledore had died, Ginny was hit the worst. She’d lost Percy as well as her mother when a Death Eater attack sprung up at the Burrow during Bill’s wedding, Severus had been the reason that most of her family had escaped. And then Ron had died in the destruction of the final horcrux and finally she’d lost Harry Potter, the boy who’d proposed to her just hours before his own death at the final battle.

“I sympathize with the girl,” he muttered and rolled his eyes. “I really do, I wish I could take her approach to things, my fingers might feel more useful.”

“You’re certainly in a cheery mood,” she half laughed half hiccoughed.

“I’ve just had my arse thoroughly kicked by the pipsqueak Weasley, what more can I say?”

“Hermione,” Charlie called from the far side of the lobby. “We should be going.”

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, and waved to Charlie. “Just a minute, love.” They’d grown quite close ever since the summer after her sixth year. He’d helped her a lot with her healing endeavors and about two years ago they’d really settled down to serious relationship business.

“Go on, we wouldn’t want to keep Prince Dragonstud waiting,” he sneered with a bit of a smirk, his face disproportionately swollen, red and blotchy, some areas still trickling blood.

“I’m so sorry, Severus,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around the man and placing a gentle kiss at the left corner of his lip, the only place on his face that wasn’t swollen or bleeding. “Goodbye.” Hermione turned on her heel and ran halfway across the lobby, stopped, turned round to pick up her heels, and then grabbed onto Charlie and was escorted from the room, leaving Severus standing there, though mostly healed, completely alone.

That had been four months earlier in April. The middle of August was upon them and Severus was once again brooding. His face had healed with minimal trace of the incident having ever happened, however it was hardly forgotten.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was hardly ever described as sweltering when it came to internal temperature. But it seemed that Peeves was up to no good as per his usual. Somehow, the Poltergeist had managed to heat up the castle and despite numerous enchantments, spells, and potions, the temperature had remained hot, sticky, and very humid.

It was two weeks before students would be expected to arrive at the castle and this did not make Severus any less cranky. Minerva had been having great difficulty convincing Peeves to revert the temperature. And Albus had disappeared from his portrait frame, the Fat Lady of Gryffindor Tower stating that she had seen him leave for a portrait of Bermuda in a local pub. Despite several searches, the former headmaster was nowhere to be found. Even threats from the Bloody Baron had not succeeded in calming the poltergeist’s temper.

The afternoon was scorching, and the blazing sun found most of the professors down by the lake. Normally swimming at the lake was prohibited, but that particular rule was only enforced when students were in session. Severus was leaning against the thick trunk of a weeping willow tree that rested right at the shore. With a pair of spectacles perched at the bridge of his nose, he sat scribbling in a thick, leather-bound tome.

“You’re certainly going to melt into that book,” Minerva quipped, ducking beneath the low laying branches of the willow. “Why don’t you join us in the water? It’s far cooler in the lake.” She offered her hand to him, the antique muggle swimsuit doing nothing to hide her age.

“No thank you, I prefer to have my lesson plans completed before the start of term.”

“Suit yourself, Severus,” she said and disappeared off toward her colleagues who had already begun splashing about. Running quite quickly from the edge of the makeshift dock that Filius had charmed to hover just at the shore, Minerva jumped into the water, sending a splash all around; some droplets flying back to hit Severus.

He grunted, glared up over his spectacles, and then turned his attentions back to the ledger at hand. Thankfully the water had not bled down into his carefully inked plans. There was a slight breeze ruffling through the leaves of the willow and it felt good rushing across his bare arms. He’d forgone his usual long sleeved black layers and opted for a shorter, olive green muscle shirt and a pair of khaki cutoffs.

“Let’s play volleyball!” Selena Sinistra suggested, as she floated on her back.

“We don’t have a ball, Selena,” Poppy Pomphrey argued. “And I’m perfectly content just floating here.”

“Are we witches and wizards or what?” the woman snorted and nodded to Filius. “Charm us up a net, won’t you Filius?” she chuckled and swam over to Minerva. “And Minnie,” she dove down under the water, resurfacing a moment later with a smooth, round rock. “Transfigure this into a ball for us.”

“Let Ginevra do it,” she said. “I’m getting to old for this.” When Minerva had stepped up to become the Headmistress she’d had quite some difficulty in finding a permanent Transfigurations replacement. But with the war over and the world at peace once more, she was more than happy to bring Ginny Weasley onboard.

“Fine, but I get Minerva on my time,” Ginny smirked. “And Poppy, and Vivian!” She waved her hand to Professor Vector, who had stepped out of the water to apply more sunscreen to her pasty pale skin. “Get my wand from my robes, Viv,” she called to the other witch, who tossed the younger her wand. “Thanks.”

“That’s uneven, and unfair. That only leaves me with Filius and Irma!” Selena practically whined as the volleyball net was hoisted up over her head. “Move it a little more to the left, Filius.”

“Hrm, we’re short a player…” Minerva sighed, eyes scanning the shore.

“What about Severus?” Filius quipped as he swam over to Selena.

The lake erupted into several rows of laughter. “You’re joking, aren’t you?” Ginny cried. No one had forgotten the run in she’d had with the man just four short months ago. Minerva had chalked it up to drunken emotions gone wild and had assured Severus that she would remain a professional while in the castle when he’d balked at her decision to hire the violent redhead.

“Severus,” Minerva called from the water. “Severus, come join us! We’re short a player!”

He’d heard the woman calling to him but chose to flat out ignore her. She was clearly as off her rocker as Albus could be at times if she honestly expected him to strip down to his skivvies and join them for some water game. Brushing a lock of his hair out of his eyes he focused even more intently on the scribbles in his book, dipping the quill into the inkwell again and again.

“Severus!” Minerva called again. “I know you can hear me!”

“Don’t bother with him,” said Nymphadora Tonks who waded her way into the water. “I can be the fourth,” she smiled, her bubblegum pink hair shining in the bright sunlight.

“Good, we’re set then,” Minerva said and swam to Ginny’s side, which faced the lake. “Alright, we’ll let your team start with the ball,” she said and moved to stand behind Ginny, being a good deal taller than her.

Tonks served up the ball, spiking it high in the air and it sailed clean over the net. It was impromptu backyard volleyball, and so when Ginny jumped up, assisted by Minerva to shoot it back over the net, no one argued it. They volleyed for several minutes until the ball landed with a splash clean alongside of Filius.

“Go us! Go us!” Ginny started to shimmy shake in the water.

“Aw, shut it, here’s a fast one comin’ at you!” Tonks teased and hurled the ball over the net. Jumping up high, Ginny spiked the ball hard with the palm of her hand but overshot her mark by a long shot. The ball whizzed far over Filius’ head and clear out of the lake.

Everyone laughed. “I’ll get it,” Ginny offered swimming toward the shore. The ball had landed and begun to roll into the shade of the willow tree. With her body dripping like a melting ice cream cone, she made her way under the branches and knelt to pick up the ball, completely ignoring the dour man glaring daggers at her. Turning around she shook her head, spraying him and his book with several blasts of water as she bent to retrieve the ball.

“Miss Weasley,” he hissed, trying to keep his tone low but level.

“Sorry,” she muttered gathering her long red locks in her hand and ringing them out, well aware that the water flowing out of them was landing all over his legs. Severus growled, pulling his knees up to his chest. But the girl sauntered quickly away, ball in hand and jumped back into the lake.

The game continued on in this manner for nearly an hour, every so often the ball would be spiked up onto the land and every time Ginny offered to retrieve it. Filius had hopped up onto Tonks shoulders in an attempt to make a backward save at a hard spike from Ginny, but only succeeded in sending the ball sailing beyond the willow tree.

Severus felt the water sprinkle down on him through the thin branches as the ball sailed overhead. Slamming the book down, he stormed over to the edge of the lake just as Ginny was climbing out. She brushed by him with her wet body in her little green bikini and trotted off toward the ball.

With a heavy scowl on his lips he stomped over toward the lake. “Minerva!” he shouted. “I’ve had it. That insolent brat is taking every opportunity she can to shoot that bloody ball at me, or throw her dripping wet self all over me and I’ve had it!”

Minerva laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Severus.” She moved toward the water’s edge. “The girl can hardly help where the ball goes.”

“Regardless, she can help shaking that hideous red mop of hers as if she were some sort of wet dog!” he growled.

“Wet dog?” Ginny snapped, having come up behind him, ball in hand. “Wet dog am I?”

He turned around, narrowed his eyes and glared at her. “You should learn to—”

“You should learn to hold your tongue. If you don’t have something nice to say, you shouldn’t say anything at all,” she whined like an infantile child, tossing her head from side to side, splattering him with water.

Severus growled and reached forward to grab her hair, but Minerva grabbed firmly hold of his ankle. Ginny, who had seen his hand, swatted at him, flicking him across the chest and in an instant he was tumbling ass backwards into the lake fully clothed.

Surfacing he began to sputter, flailing his arms about, his ears greeted with tumultuous laughter. “You vile— putrid—” her pale freckled hand was atop his head pushing him back under the water before she swam to the other side of the net. Resurfacing, Severus growled, spitting more water out of his mouth, shouting obscenities like there was no tomorrow.

“Severus!” Minerva shouted after him. “Don’t be rude!” she tried to be serious but could hardly hold back the chuckles.

“That’s right, I’m a bitch!” Ginny shouted to his retreating backside with a red face through her peel of giggles. Severus stalked off toward the castle, summoning his tome and inkwell from beneath the willow, both of which smacked him upside the head before he was able to grab them and stomp away from the lake, a trail of water dripping behind him.