--A.N.: In case you didn't read the summary, this was written in response to the Revenge challenge on WIKTT. Special thanks to my Beta for making it readable!--

Sunlight is evil by nature. It burns your skin, it causes cancer and it illuminates every ugly little detail about a person. Hell, it can be used as a weapon as long as you're armed with a magnifying glass! He used that form of torture on thousands of ants when he was a child. Perhaps that was an early indicator of the "profession" (if you could call being a Death eater a profession) he would choose later in life. True, he regretted it now, but as the old cliché says--it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Severus Snape was an evil, crotchety old bastard. There was truly no gentler way of phrasing it. Well, he may not have been truly evil, but he certainly was walking a thin line. This morning, as an insidious finger of sunlight poking him on his very large nose awakened him, he vowed that one of his students would rue the day they were born with the gift of magic. You see, he was particularly ornery today because his aforementioned very large nose was also bright, blazing red with blisters adorning it. This was due to a quidditch match that ran for a bit too long in the searing sunlight. Being the avid sports fan he was he had quickly fallen asleep without first protecting himself with a spell, umbrella or even a hat.

Snape snorted as he quickly pushed the horrible image of himself wearing the floppy sunbonnet Professor Sprout had worn to the match out of his mind. No, he would rather put up with the sunburn than be seen wearing a hat of any kind.

Snape was mumbling obscenities under his breath as he creakily slid out from between his plain white sheets and headed towards his private bathroom. He outright growled as his slightly smelly nightshirt caught on his sore nose as he was pulling the garment over his head. As he stood nude in front of his silent muggle mirror, he glared maliciously at the hideous red proboscis that now adorned his face.

The potion that he needed wasn't brewed yet, and he would have to let the herbs steep for at least twelve hours before he could use them, not to mention it would take him two days afterwards to brew the curative paste from them. So basically, he was stuck with this abomination for at least two days. He grumpily got in the shower and tried not to think about it.

At breakfast, Snape felt like a great green beetle. Minerva kept giving him sidelong glances while Flitwick was outright staring at him. He narrowed his eyes at the annoying little man, inwardly smiling as he saw a shiver run through his tiny frame. Minerva gave him a disapproving look, but he was quite use to seeing those.

With little grace, he crammed the remainder of his dry toast into his mouth and stalked out of the Great Hall. On the way out, he happened to overhear something that made his nose crinkle in disgust. That wretched Granger girl was squealing with joy about something that pertained to house elves loud enough to give a banshee a run for her money.

Stupid bleeding hearts. Anyone who could actually feel badly for those ugly little creatures deserved to be hit with an obliviate charm. Snape sneered at her causing toast crumbs to fall from his lips, but nobody seemed to notice.

He deftly descended the stairs to the dungeon, silently dreading his double potions class with the Gryffindor and Slytherin seventh years. Not only did he have to put up with that insufferable whelp, Potter, he also had to deal with that damnable Granger girl and her maddening need to prove that she knew everything that was ever written in English, and probably a few other languages as well, knowing her. Snape was so engrossed in his internal dialogue that he didn't even notice the tall figure blocking his door. It actually managed to startle him, though he was loathed to admit it.

"Move."

"Good Mornin', Professor! I was hopin' I'd catch ya before yer first class!" Hagrid, the big flea ridden imbecile was apparently deaf or incredibly stupid. Or brave.

"What do you want?" Snape said with as much venom as he could conjure.

"Well, I've been havin' a problem with two demiguises I've been put in charge of, and I figured you were just the man for the job!" Hagrid was grinning broadly, though his eyes had taken on a rather cautious look. Snape was looking at him with obvious impatience. "Do ya think you could brew me a potion?"

"If you are willing to pay for it, I suppose it could be arranged," Snape said, shifting his position and crossing his arms. Anything to get you out of here.

"Thank you!" Hagrid's eyes lit up again. "If ya could brew me a love potion, I'd be very grateful." Snape gave him a disparaging glare.

"Are you not aware that love potions are strictly against school rules? I suggest you go elsewhere for assistance, Hagrid. Now if you please, I must prepare for my first class. Move. Now." A very deflated Hagrid shuffled away from his door, apologizing before he disappeared down the hall. With a sour look, Snape entered his room, slamming the door behind him.

Snape took a glance at the clock on his cluttered desk, and decided he had just enough time to gather the ingredients he would need for his burn- healing paste. He cursed Madame Pomfrey for not having any in stock, although he was really to blame since he was the one who made it for her in the first place.

Biting his lip, he rummaged through the cupboard for the herbs he would need. Thankfully he had them all. He quickly grabbed the glass jars they were contained in and set them aside on his worktable. He glanced again at the clock and snatched his wand along with the necessary papers from his messy desk and entered the classroom through the door that connected it to his office. With a sigh, he flicked his wand, causing the classroom door to slam open, signalling his students to enter.

They all came through the door with faces that clearly said they would have rather been elsewhere. He could empathize. Even Draco had lost his eager smirk. Since the war had been over, Snape no longer needed to pretend to show favour to the evil little git. He could finally be himself and show that he hated all students equally. It was the best part of his job.

When everyone was standing by their cauldrons, he glared at them all before barging into his lecture. With a quick snap of his wrist, the directions for the potion du jour appeared on the blackboard. After lecturing about the effects of the Papula-Depello Potion, Snape began stalking around the classroom. He was keeping his eyes peeled for the slightest refraction of the rules.

Surprisingly enough, it was Hermione who caught his attention first. She was trying her best to get Longbottom's attention. He was about to begin his potion by adding the nettle juice before the bubotuber pus. With a wicked grin, Snape stalked behind the girl.

"Miss Granger. I wasn't aware that I instructed the class to take partners," he sneered. Much to his delight, she finished telling Longbottom that he was about to cause an explosion before turning to apologize to Snape. "I'm sorry, sir, but he was about to cause an explosion." She was looking at him without a hint of embarrassment. "Detention, Miss Granger. Seven o'clock in my office," he said with a smirk as he watched her face fall. Perhaps this day wasn't going to turn out to be so wretched after all.

--

"I don't see why you are so adamantly against it, Ron!" Hermione gripped her books tightly to her chest and held her head high; a sure sign that she was losing her patience. She was always a bit volatile after double potions, but the detention she had been handed unfairly had made her mood even worse.

"They don't want to be freed! A few have told you that themselves! They find it offensive, and I don't think that you should just assume that it would be best for them," he said plaintively as he trotted to keep up with her. She refused to slow her pace. Harry rolled his eyes at Ron; he didn't understand why Ron insisted on picking at her until she exploded.

"I don't care if you think slavery is socially acceptable, Ron. I don't, and I'm not about to sit idly by and watch it happen! It has to stop, and I'm apparently the only one who cares enough to stop it," she spat as she suddenly twirled 'round, causing Ron to stumble backwards.

"Slavery?" Ron's ears were now bright red. "For God's sake, woman, they're being paid! How could they be slaves if they're being paid?"

"Because they haven't been presented with clothing yet!" she spat.

"And isn't it their master that has to present them with clothes? Since Dumbledore is the headmaster, I would guess that only he could present them with clothing to set them free. So it would seem a little pointless for you to go about handing them clothing." Ron's tone had lightened a bit; apparently even he wasn't in the mood to face Hermione's wrath at the moment.

"Well, my reasoning is this-since I am the Head Girl, an authority figure of this school who was appointed by the Headmaster himself, then I am an extension of him. Therefore, if I present the house elves with clothing, it's just as well." Ron gave her a blank look before answering.

"Do what you must," he said with a resigned sigh.

"Thank you," she nodded her head curtly and walked off in the direction of her next class.

"You really shouldn't bait her like that," Harry said in a low voice. "I know you've noticed how crabby she's been lately. If you really fancy her, I would suggest being a little nicer. You won't have a chance otherwise."

"Yeah...I know," Ron said while avoiding Harry's eyes.

--

Snape was hunched over the cauldron in his private lab; hurriedly trying to get the herbs ground into a fine powder before his next class when he heard the familiar crackle of his fireplace.

"Good morning, Severus," Dumbledore's head said in an agreeable tone.

"G'morning, Albus," Snape grumbled without turning around.

"I just had a very interesting conversation with Hagrid, and I thought you would find it quite interesting as well!" Snape rolled his eyes before turning around to face his guest. "Did you know that Hagrid is currently hosting a very rare pair of demiguises for the ministry? Apparently they've put Hagrid in charge of making sure they produce offspring. They obviously want to harvest their hair in order to produce more invisibility cloaks, but I have no idea what for."

Snape resisted the urge to simply ignore him and continue with his potion. Dumbledore seemed to sense his impatience and got right to the point.

"Severus, I know that love potions are normally restricted under school rules, but I have decided to grant you permission to brew one for Hagrid's special circumstance. Many thanks in advance, my boy," the old man said with that insidious happy twinkle in his eye.

"When does he need it by?" Snape prayed that he could put it off for at least a little while.

"Oh, any time tonight would be great," Dumbledore said with a grin. Snape was about to protest, but the old bat disappeared before he could so much as open his mouth.

Bloody, buggery hell! Snape looked at the clock and saw that he had three minutes before his next class. He gave his herbs one last grind with the pestle and threw them into his cauldron with an uncharacteristic carelessness. Today was a decidedly wretched day and his students were about to experience the full effects of it. He almost felt sorry for the little bastards.

--

In the Gryffindor common room, Hermione was putting the finishing touches on what looked like a note card to Harry and Ron.

"Who are you writing to, Mione?" asked Harry as he flopped down upon a chair across from her.

"Just leaving a note for the house elves. I'm personally asking them to clean up this mess I've made," Hermione said with a subtle grin.

"And why do you feel the need to ask them personally to clean it up?" Ron asked suspiciously before sitting down on the sofa next to Hermione. "Aren't you the one who's always harping about their forced slavery?"

"Well, you see, there is a sock hidden inside this pile of papers. When the elf follows my direct orders, he or she will have to take the sock along with the papers. This way, I will have personally presented him or her with clothes, and they will finally have been set free!" Hermione was beaming with pride at her cleverly constructed trap.

"But don't you remember those hideous little hats you use to hide in the piles of rubbish a few years ago?" Ron was staring incredulously at her. "It didn't work then, and I'm fairly certain it won't work now."

"Ah hah! I wasn't the Head Girl then, and I did not ask them specifically to pick up the rubbish with the hats in them! I'm fairly certain it will work now!" she exclaimed with slightly more ardour than necessary. "And did you actually call my hats 'hideous'? They may have been a bit irregular, but they certainly don't deserve to be called 'hideous'," she said, obviously piqued. Harry and Ron rolled their eyes.

With a small exclamation, Hermione quickly stood and grabbed her things. "I'd love to sit and chat, but I'm afraid I have a detention to serve," she said with a scowl.

"Don't let him eat you alive!" Ron called after her with a grimace as he watched her stride from the common room.

"Should we remove the sock?" Harry asked while idly poking through the pile of paper. "Don't you suppose the house elves will be angry if they're set free against their will?"

"I would suppose so, but I wouldn't move it if I were you. Let her set them free and deal with the consequences. Perhaps it'll teach her a lesson," Ron said with a yawn. "I'm going to bed. I'm too tired to care about it."

"Night, Ron." He still didn't feel good about leaving the sock, but just how much trouble could one freed elf cause anyway. Probably not much, I reckon, Harry thought to himself before pulling out his DADA textbook and settling in to study.