Chapter notes:
Disclaimer: In its use of intellectual property and characters belonging to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et cetera, this work is intended to be transformative commentary on the original. No profit is being made from this work.
Beta Readers: Gryffindor_Slytherin, AuntLynnie, Lorcalon, BlueArtemis, Pagan
This is my first fanfic. A light and smutty whodunit. Hopefully funny with a plot worked in there somewhere.
Enjoy!
Chapter 1 - Monday
"Yes!"
Satisfied, the reader slammed the Moste Potente Potions volume shut with a smile and levitated it back to its rightful place on the shelf. Shoving the copied parchments into their satchel, the student turned and purposely strode out of the library with none the wiser.
The plan was perfect.
Perfect!
All that was needed now was an object from either Crabbe or Goyle, and Miss Swottiest Witch of Her Age would be the laughing stock of Hogwarts. Somebody needed to take her down a notch or two. And if everything went according to plan, it would be tomorrow.
Which one would be more humiliating? Crabbe or Goyle? A low chuckle sounded. Would it matter? The chuckle expanded into a loud laugh as the student exited the library.
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Hermione glanced at the clock and sighed.
Still another twenty-five minutes to go. Usually she didn't mind double Potions with the Slytherins. Tensions between the two houses had eased somewhat since Voldemort had been defeated. There were still grudges, residual prejudices, and the occasional fight but so far, this class was uneventful. Too uneventful. No snide comments came from Snape and no confrontations occurred between the students either. Her potion was near complete and without anything else to do, she found that lack of conflict made for a boring lesson.
Hermione was getting agitated. The weather was so nice outside and she was itching to go for a run. It was a long day and she had been cooped up in the castle without any free periods. Several months ago, she found that exercising a few times a week significantly cut down her stress level. Not only that, but she was able to concentrate better on her work, making her more efficient. In actuality, the time taken for exercise saved her time in the long run. Time which she filled in with extra reading, of course. She was fully aware that she had obsessive compulsive tendencies with regards to her studies. No matter, there were worse things to obsess over. Ultimately, her work ethic served her well in school and would serve her well in the future.
Hermione and her partner, Neville, were almost done. The potion was not a straightforward one, but she had already read up on today's assignment. She knew what to do in order to avoid the common pitfalls most amateur potioneers made when making the blood restorative potion. Speaking of which, she thought as she glanced over at Harry and Ron, who did not seem to be faring so well.
Neville was calmly alternating between stirring the dark blue, viscous liquid clockwise and counter-clockwise every two and a half minutes, as prescribed, while the cauldron simmered on low. In the meantime, she marked down which direction he had done last so that they would know which to do next, and flipped the sandglass. They had arrived at the easy part and would collect a sample to give to Snape after three more stirs with the oak wood spoon.
Hermione scanned the room, and saw that Lavender and Parvati seemed to be almost done as well. She observed them with disinterest. Parvati was certainly the brains of those two. Dean and Seamus looked like they were in trouble. Some of the other Gryffindors were still on the earlier stages of the potion and would probably not finish all of the required stirring. According to the textbook, the blood restorative potion would not work to its full capacity without every last stir.
On the Slytherin side of the classroom, Malfoy was leaning back in his chair with his feet propped up on the table, giving Crabbe orders. Crabbe was alternating between stirring and scribbling attentively with a quill. She rolled her eyes.
Typical, she thought. What a spoiled git.
Crabbe spooned their dark blue liquid into a vial. She hated to admit, but it appeared that they, too, had finished with a perfect potion.
Hermione yawned. The minutes ticked by slowly. She needed to run and wake herself up. Thankfully, Neville finished the last stir and she spooned it into a vial.
"Good job, Neville. I think we'll get full marks for today," she said.
He blushed, "Thanks, Hermione. It's all because of you."
She looked up at him and shook her head. "Nonsense. You're good with your hands and I don't have to worry about ingredient preparation while reading from my notes and the textbook. I think we make a good team."
"Me too." He smiled down at her.
Hermione was comfortable working with Neville. It was a good pairing as far as the both of them were concerned, and he was extremely good with his hands. A skill that served him well in Professor Strout's classes. They split the work with her delegating which tasks to do, as she had a better understanding of how to make potions more efficiently, and with better results. He didn't mind being ordered around - she knew she was a bit bossy - and did as she asked without complaint. In the end, they both got good grades and enjoyed their friendship.
The end of the class was near.
"Time is up," Snape drawled. "Bring your samples to my desk and clean up your work stations."
Students scrambled around in a flurry, trying to quickly finish any remaining steps that they hadn't had time for while cleaning up at the same time. Ingredients spilled, students jostled one another, breaking glass was heard after a muttered curse, and after fifteen chaotic minutes, the class emptied and everyone filtered down the hallway to common rooms, the library, and outside as the school day came to a close.
"Crabbe!" sounded an annoyed voice. "My quill!"
Crabbe turned around. He had forgotten his quill today and borrowed one from Draco.
"Oh, um…" He opened his satchel and looked around inside, pawing through his books and parchments. He padded himself down with his hands. "Uh…" He opened his satchel again but to no avail.
Draco raised an eyebrow at him.
"Maybe, uh, I'll go back to the classroom…" Crabbe said, as he tried in vain to look into his bag again. "I had it just before everyone started to clean up!"
Draco sighed and turned to walk down the hall. "Never mind, it's just a quill."
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After changing into a tank top and shorts, Hermione began her lap around the grounds. She stayed away from the most obvious place to run, the Quidditch pitch, as she didn't want to be bothered by the teams practicing. Running there in the past resulted in the occasional snide remark about her running and the revealing clothing that she normally wouldn't be caught dead wearing. Keeping to the perimeter of the grounds ensured that she wouldn't meet any students, although she did occasionally see Hagrid when she came around by his hut. He found her running amusing since she wasn't a Quidditch player. Apparently, exercising for the sake of staying fit hadn't caught on in the wizarding world. Most likely because there were potions available that ensured good health and shrunk fat, but they were costly.
Hermione's feet pounded on the grass; she enjoyed the feel of the sun on her face and arms. Her bushy hair was tied back in a pony tail, tickling her shoulder blades. She had been running for about an hour now. When she first started jogging regularly, she could barely fun for ten minutes without falling over with exhaustion and nausea. Horcrux hunting had left her underweight and gaunt. Now, after spending some time strengthening her body and learning to control her breathing, she found that she could continue much longer, but didn't exceed an hour. Her knees would bother her if she did. Instead, she pushed herself to increase her pace. She could now do one and two-thirds of the perimeter in an hour. She was trying to work up to two laps.
It was a beautiful run. She passed by the Forbidden Forest, the Black Lake, and saw the highlands of Scotland in the distance. She especially liked running at this time of day, when the sun began to set.
Hermione looked down at her mechanical watch. An hour was up and unfortunately, she was still at one and two-thirds of the perimeter. She slowed down and walked the rest of the way back to her starting point near the Quidditch pitch where she kept her belongings in a bag. She breathed in deeply, measuring her breaths. She was sweaty, bright red, and her heart was pounding. She smiled, loving the feeling right after a run. It was just what she needed after a long day of classes. After doing some arm and ab exercises and stretching, she slipped on a pair of loose fitting trousers over her shorts and exchanged her tank top for a loose T-shirt before heading back to the castle.
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A pair of eyes from the Prefect's bathroom watched as Hermione entered the castle doors.
Stuck up bitch.
As a precaution, the bathroom door was bolted shut, but nobody would be going in there any time soon. People were mostly at dinner. The Prefect's bathroom only started to get some use after seven o'clock in the evening. There was plenty of time.
The heat to the cauldron had to be adjusted so that the white liquid would boil before adding Crabbe's quill. Carefully though. The potion had to be at just the right temperature and level of acidity so that the quill would completely dissolve, which made it dangerous to touch. Overall, it was a simple potion and didn't take much time or skill to make. It would be done in about five minutes, with another ten minutes to cool down. Assuming that another few minutes were needed to clear all of the traces of having brewed the potion in the Prefect's bathroom, everything would be finished shortly.
The student was careful in adding the quill. In addition to being potentially burned by acid, touching the potion was just as potent as ingesting it.
Next, it needed to be administered to Hermione. Fortunately, that part had already been figured out. It would just require a bit of sneakiness. The eyes turned to the mirror to see a wide smirk facing back.
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Hermione ran up the stairs to the fourth floor two at a time, energized by her workout. She was taken by surprise as the stairs swiveled to the east hallway while she was halfway up and grabbed the hand railing to keep from falling over, waited until the stairs had completed their moving, and walked up the rest of the way.
She preferred a nice bath after exercising, and upon making her way down the hallway, she knocked on the door to the Prefect's bathroom. Turning the handle, she frowned. It was locked. She called out, but nobody answered. Although it was against the rules, she knew that the Prefects brought their significant others here to snog. A locked door with no answer usually meant that was precisely what was happening.
She sniffed in indignation and turned to go.
What was that?
She could smell a strong lemony scent coming from the bathroom. She leaned closer to the door and sniffed again. Almost like lemon scented dish liquid. Did the tap have lemon-scented water? She didn't think so. She crinkled her nose. The dish soapy smell wasn't particularly appealing as a body soap or bath additive.
Oh well, she thought. A quick shower would have to do.
She trudged back downstairs and stopped at the Great Hall to pick up a sandwich before heading back up towards Gryffindor Tower. Ginny met her along the stairs, her bag looking unusually heavy, and they headed up together. It almost looked like she was carrying a cauldron from the shape of it.
Hermione was about to question the contents of her bag when Ginny made an exaggerated show of sniffing Hermione and recoiled in disgust.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh sod off, Ginny. Your Quidditch uniform alone could wipe out all the plant and animal life within a five mile radius. Blast ended skrewts included. "
Ginny grinned. "The Order should have sent you into battle after one of your runs. The Death Eaters would have begged to be sent to Azkaban just to breathe the fresh air. Begged!"
Hermione snorted.
"Did you get up to two laps yet?"
"Not yet," Hermione admitted.
"You will," her friend said encouragingly. "I'll join you next time. I'm sick of running around the Quidditch pitch, unless Harry's in front of me and I can watch his arse." Ginny sent Hermione a wicked smile.
"Spare me the details of Harry's anatomy, please?"
Ginny continued mercilessly. "Sometimes he takes his shirt off when he gets sweaty…. Now his smell I don't mind! Once after Quidditch practice we - "
"Did I ever tell you what Ron's nasty bits look like?" Ginny shouldn't have started this game. Being a female Weasley, she was already at a serious disadvantage. Something Hermione was about to make abundantly clear.
Ginny made a face. "Okay, okay, point made!"
Hermione continued, as if in thought, "I wonder if Fred and George are completely identical. They probably compare the -"
"Gah! Stop!" Ginny pleaded.
"Percy probably shaves his hair into perfect right angles -"
"Oh my gosh I'm so sorry I said anything!" Ginny covered her face in horror.
"- on the other hand, the full moon probably makes Bill-"
"FOR THE LOVE OF-"
Ginny covered Hermione's mouth with her hand and Hermione laughed through her fingers.
"Okay, you made your point!" Ginny suppressed giggles of her own. "No more talking about family members' anatomy."
"You said 'members,'" Hermione joked, and Ginny cackled.
Their laughter died down as they approached the Fat Lady and gave the password.
"To get back to our original conversation," Hermione said, stepping through the entrance, "you running with me is a good idea. I'd have to work harder to keep up."
"Right then, I'll bring a gas mask -ow!" Ginny laughed and then cried out as Hermione pinched her arm.
The girls entered the common room together and saw Harry and Ron wrestling on the couch. Ron made a sudden lunge at Lavender, who shrieked and bubbled with laughter.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, he could do so much better than her."
Ginny gave her a scolding look, worthy of Molly Weasley. "She's not so bad you know." She stared at Ron and Lavender in thought and then shifted her glanced to Hermione. "Are you sure you're not jealous? You were the one who didn't want him."
Hermione shook her head quickly. "No, of course not. Nothing like that."
Ginny turned to her impatiently. "Then what is it? She plays with her hair and you roll your eyes, she makes a joke and you get irritated, she laughs and you look like you've eaten one of Fred and George's puking pastels! Everything she does is wrong in your eyes. It's not like you to be so openly intolerant of others."
"It's just..." Hermione faltered. Was she really that terrible? "I guess... I still feel badly for not loving him in the same way that he loved me. I want him to have someone more deserving. He could do so much better than her."
They observed Ron tickling Lavender with a devious grin on his face. Harry jumped off the couch to avoid getting hit in the struggle.
Hermione contemplated the happy couple. "I am being unreasonable, aren't I?"
Ginny nodded.
"It's not as if she's nice to me," Hermione continued in a defensive voice.
"Seriously?" Ginny gave an exasperated sigh. "Were you ever nice to her?"
Hermione knew the answer to that question.
"Look at the big picture," Ginny continued. "They're both happy, and that should say something. Ron was really depressed for awhile," she said pointedly.
Hermione winced, that was a low blow. She still felt incredibly guilty about that, and Ginny knew it.
Ginny turned to go up to the girls' dormitories and Hermione followed her, lost in thought. As they headed up the stairs Ginny gave Harry, Ron, and Lavender a quick wave.
"Oi! Hermione!" Harry called out. "We have to breathe in here!"
Ron and Lavender laughed at Hermione's livid expression. Honestly, what was with them all? Did they think Quidditch made them immune from post-exercise stink?
She gave him a rude gesture which only made Ron and Lavender laugh harder, and turned back to Ginny, who could barely contain her mirth.
Hermione gave a small smile as they entered the dormitories and said, "I guess you're right. I'll be more accepting of her, and I'll try harder to be nice."
"Good," Ginny said, rubbing her arm. "Wouldn't it be better if our whole group got along well?"
"She really is a part of our group now, isn't she?" Hermione said, barely disguising her distaste.
"Yep," Ginny said pointedly.
"You're right," Hermione gave a resigned sigh, realizing that she'd have to accept this new normal, which wasn't even "new" anymore.
Ginny gave her a solemn look and patted her on the shoulder. "I know."
Hermione whacked her hand away and smiled. "Oh, shut it."
She tried to take her hair tie out of the sweaty mess of curls, and winced as they pulled painfully on her scalp.
"Arrrrgh!" Hermione growled. "This is the worst part of my run. I hate this rats' nest." She reached for her wand to perform a severing charm on her elastic and ended up nicking her finger instead. "Ugh!"
"You know," Ginny spoke slowly, as if she were afraid to continue. "Lavender would probably be able to help you with your hair."
Hermione successfully wrenched her hair out of the ponytail with a grunt, dreading the process of getting all the knots out. She glared at Ginny. "I said I'd be nice and accepting. I still have my pride, you know."
"Weeeeellllll..." Ginny smiled devilishly at her like she had been waiting for just this opportunity. "Then I'm going to give you your birthday present a month early."
"Pardon?"
But Ginny ran back to the sixth year dorms, heavy bag in tow, and returned with a small box.
"Open it!"
Hermione looked down curiously at the box Ginny held before her. Excitedly, she ripped open the wrappings and brought out a vial filled with a whitish fluid. She turned the bottle around and read the label.
It was a hair potion.
Her face fell. She hated hair products. Despite her bushy haired woes, they took too much time to use. She wasn't any good with them, couldn't be arsed to learn any of the charms she saw other girls in the dorm using and thought that taking the time to practice was beneath her.
"Now before you get all cranky, just hear me out." Ginny didn't miss a beat having expected Hermione's reaction. "This is an expensive, high quality potion. But you don't need to use it that often. Take the entire bottle and apply it once every three months and poof!" Her hands mimed a small explosion. "No more rats' nest. You'll have manageable, wavy hair. That's it. No work. See the directions?"
She pointed to the label on the bottle with the moving diagram. "After shampooing, you put it on and let it sit for an hour."
Hermione opened her mouth to protest.
"Oh shush! You can do your Ancient Runes homework or read Hogwarts: A History for the 586th time while you wait."
Hermione snapped her mouth shut as Ginny continued, "Then you rinse it out and perform the permanency charm explained on the label. Easy."
Hermione looked the vial over, it certainly looked relatively easy. She glanced up at Ginny who was brimming with barely contained excitement.
"Okay, okay, we can do it now," she said reluctantly.
"Yes!" Ginny clapped her hands gleefully. "Go shower, I'll go get some gloves so I can help."
Chapter end notes:
Hi everyone.
This is my first fic, I hope you enjoy it. A big thanks to my betas for proofreading it. The story is finished and more chapters will be posted weekly. Any comments/suggestions/critiques are welcome.
A note: Ravishment fantasies are very popular with women. It is not feminist to shame women (or anyone) for enjoying them. Women have been shamed for their sexuality enough throughout history. If that type of erotica doesn't do it for you, you don't have to read it. It's as simple as that. The warning is in the tag.
For everyone else: More action to come as the revenge plot unfolds! Don't turn that dial!