If the Crime Fits the Punishment

legal stuff first: we all know i don\'t own these characters. we also all know j.k. rowling does. i\'m just borrowing them for a little while to play with. i promise to return them when i\'m done. i\'ll try no to hurt them too badly. ;p

second.....i\'m new to this....my first time and all, so please feel free to review. but be gentle with me. :)


Chapter One: Getting Started
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Kendra stared at the picture before her and snarled so loudly, she upset the black tom sleeping in the chair next to her. Wickersham sat up and gave her an obviously displeased look, then jumped from the chair to stroll disdainfully across the room. He sat down, his back presented to her to let her know he was not happy with her, then proceeded to lick himself clean and completely ignore her.

It had been a year now since she\'d left school, and her feelings of hatred had yet to change. In fact, they hadn\'t even decreased. It seemed as if they had grown over the last twelve months, until she could feel the tight little ball of hate curled under her heart, and it was hard to remember a time when she hadn\'t been living with it. When she\'d graduated and stepped into the real world, the plans she had made had been swimming in her head, looking for release. The only problem was, at the time, she hadn\'t had any way of putting the plan into motion.

That had changed one day, shortly after graduation, when she\'d been walking along the street and a surge of great power had pulled her into a Muggle bookstore. The shop sold mostly used books, second hand and cast aside. The walls were cluttered with all the topics Muggles liked to occupy their minds with. But the power she had felt was there, and it had guided her to the back of the store.

It was dark back there, and she had found herself standing in front of a long table with books mounded on top of it. She had searched idly until her hand had grazed a soft leather cover that seemed to be giving off heat. Power had jolted it\'s way up her arm, making the limb tingle. Upon removing the book from the detris on the table, she\'d flipped the cover open and gasped in surprise. In her hands, she\'d held an honest to gods spell book. The real thing, too. Not a Muggle\'s idea of a spell book. It was fate.

Once she had paid and stepped out side the book shop, she\'d buried her nose between the musty pages. She had been beyond delighted to find the spells in the book would enable her to put her plans into motion. She would finally have her revenge. She\'d devoted every waking moment afterward to studying the contents of the ancient tome. She\'d learned all the spells, memorizing them until they were permanently etched into the grooves of her brain. She\'d practiced them until she knew she would be able to perform them on demand, perfectly.

The book she held presently, in any one else\'s hands, appeared to be an empty journal, waiting for an entry. But once in her grip, with the right incantation, the blank pages filled with words and moving pictures. The book was bound by supple leather, with a curling script of gilt gold letters running across the front. It read \'Hogwart\'s School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.\' It was a year book. And it was open to the page that contained the picture of the most hated teacher in the school. Professor Severus Snape. Potions Master.

His picture, a clear, color shot of the man ensconced in his dungeons, showed him scowling. His normal expression. His face was pinched, as usual. His pasty cheeks looked even whiter framed by strands of long black hair that looked stringy and greasy. He looked arrogant and waspish. She detested the man with a passion.

She had gone to Hogwart\'s a shy and timid girl. Her hair had spent it\'s entire seven years there up in a bushy, disheveled pony tail. Glasses, the lenses so thick they magnified her eyes to the size of golf balls, rested upon the bridge of her nose. She had been pale, reed-thin, and terribly nervous.

She had always been a book worm. Her nose was constantly buried between the pages of some book or another, her eyes flying over the words while she categorically locked all the knowledge away in her brain. She had known the answers. To every thing. But she barely ever answered a question. Better to be silent than look like a Know-It-All. She had seen first hand the kind of treatment she would have received, because she had been alot like Hermione Granger. She had, in short, been a geek. And she knew that she positively did not fit in with the rest of them.

She always managed to sit in the back to avoid being seen. When asked questions, nerves tended to make her studder, and she was teased mercilessly about it. Throw in her heavy Scottish brogue, and the torment automatically doubled. She had gotten used to the teasing the combination had garnered. But it was nothing compared to Snape\'s tongue, when he decided to whet it on her hide.

It was the end of the first week of classes, and they were to brew a simple potion. It was a terribly simple one, and she could brew it with her eyes closed. She knew that she could, because she had done it. But she had fouled up somewhere. She wasn\'t sure where or why or what, but suddenly her potion was boiling up over the lip of her cauldron, creating a huge mess on the surface of her work table. And, naturally, Snape saw the whole thing.

He stalked toward her, his black robes billowing out behind him like the wings of a great bird. In fact, with a deep scowl settled on his face, he looked just like a giant hunting bird, swooping down on it\'s prey. Her. She managed to stare at him, keeping a blank look on her face. But she couldn\'t help the blush that stole over her cheeks as he stopped next to her. All the eyes in the class were riveted on the two of them.

\' Miss MacLeod! \' he snarled at her vehemently. \' What were you attempting to create here? It certainly isn\'t what I assigned to the class. If this is how your entire time in this class will be spent, I think it is safe to assume that it will be nothing more than a waste of my time. Perhaps your parents should have saved themselves some money and sent you to a school that could train you to something more suitable. A convent. Or perhaps even clown school. For you are certainly not in possession of the talents and skills required to master even the simplest of potions!\'

He turned on his heel and stalked back to his desk. \' I will be deducting ten points from Gryffindor for your stupidity!\' Half the class broke out into laugher. The Slytherin half. She noticed many of the Gryffindors giving her sympathetic looks. The laughter hadn\'t bothered her. His words had. His sharp tongue carving her up like a turkey in front of every one had. She\'d managed to keep her face carefully blank until she\'d made it to her dormitory. Then she\'d crawled into her bed and drawn the curtains. Used a pillow to drown her sobs in.

For the days and years that followed, for the seven years she attended Hogwart\'s, Snape had never missed an opportunity to belittle her. His tongue lashings had been horrid, and he\'s seemed to delight in cutting her down. He\'d actually appeared to enjoy verbally abusing her more than he did the famous Harry Potter, and degrading Potter was one of his favorite past times. For each abuse he heaped upon her head, she\'d planned and plotted more. She\'d spent much of her free time at school working out ways to torture the nasty git. Each one had been passed over until she\'d hit her seventh year. Her brain had stumbled over an idea that had made her smile with anticipation just to think on it. But at the time, she hadn\'t had any way to put it in motion, so it had festered like an open wound. Until she\'d found the spell book.

The spells contained within the volume had enabled her to cast several spells on Snape, even when he was inside the heavily warded school. They were simple spells that allowed her to spy and gather information. To find ways to best enact her plans. And since he spent much of his time not teaching alone in his private chambers, she had been given access to many things of interest.

She had discovered he had a penchant for a certain type of brandy. And it had given her a way to start his punishment. She had managed to find and purchase a bottle of the brandy. She lifted the bottle into her hands and smiled in triumph. She had managed to place a pair of very, very unique spells on the brandy. Not the bottle, but the liquor it\'s self. Sealed inside the bottle. One was a sleeping draught that would render him unconscious with only one or two sips of the liquid. The second, and this was the bloody brilliant one, would bring him to her. Once he was unconscious, the spell would send his slumbering body to the place of her choosing.

An evil grin spread across Kendra\'s face. She knew she was obsessed and maniacal about this, but she had to make him understand what he had done wrong. She had to make him hurt as much as he had made her hurt. She wanted him to suffer. She wanted to watch. She wanted him to wish he\'d never met her. By the time she finished with him, she wanted him to wish he\'d never been born.......


end chapter one.
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so let me know what you think. chapter two is already in the works!