The Half Blood Price

Vs

The Know-All Queen

Drunken Disorder

A loud crack echoed its way around the hall, proclaiming Winky's arrival.

"Winky, can you send a bottle of whisky up to my room please?" I ask and rather sociably too, considering my current frame of mind, which was an unusual mix of sorrow, tired and ever so slightly murderous. I start making my way up to my room, as I walk past a few students who say hello; I simply hold up my hand in an 'I acknowledge you're there but I really can't be bothered' kind of way. I get to my room to find a bottle of good old Ogden's, (guaranteed to get you plastered,) fire whisky sitting on the table, along with a tumbler glass and a bucket of ice next to that. I pour my self out a Hermione sized quantity, which admittedly may be a smidge more than the standard, but I am aiming to get thoroughly pissed so it doesn't matter how quick it happens does it. I feel the hot little gulp make its way to my stomach. "Ah!" I sigh. I throw my teachers robe off and just sprawl myself on the couch. I knock another glass back and look around; the clock tells me that it's now 7:45. I pull tongues at it because it's Friday, I am 22 and I am going to get drunk anyway. Stupid rule anyway, starting the new term on a Thursday to get the first years used to the school. Another glass is drained then refilled, and I start to feel a bit flushed. I undo the collar buttons on my blouse and roll up my sleeves, giving no thought to turning off the fire next to me. Too much effort. I get off the couch, stupidly attempt to pull the creases out of my pencil skirt (a sure sign of my tipsiness,) take one last swig of whisky straight from the bottle, which I then quickly stuff into my bag, and exit the room, hitting my elbow on the door as I leave.

ooo000ooo

'I'll show him.' I think to myself as I make my way down to the dungeons 'You will undoubtedly need a cauldron.' I mimic in my head, but realise far too slowly that I am in fact, miming and moving my head as I walk. At this point I either look as tipsy as I am, or I look like I've lost my mind completely. Judging by the looks I'm getting from people, probably both. As I approach the dungeon's corridor I remember last time and think bugger the knocking stage and walk straight in.

"You're late." he states.

To which I reply with "You're an arse."

"Granger if you wish to throw insults at me I assure you I will tear your over inflated ego to shreds, and I am quite capable of reducing people of far higher intelligence than you to tears." He snarled.

"I'm sure you can, Severus," I hiss back "although most people feel like crying when then see, you much less listen to you." The anger came from no-where. Actually it's probably from the whisky, alright I don't like Snape, but I don't hate him.

"You're no oil painting yourself Granger, frizzy hair, scrawny figure most women would die off not for, and what must be a pair of fake breasts on a body so shapeless in a dire attempt to make you somewhat attractive, an attempt which most definitely has failed." He sneers. O.k., so my hair is still frizzy, even when I tie it back, it still looks like a hair explosion on the back of my head. But I'm not anorexic, nor are my breasts fake.

"Really Severus, I had no idea that you paid so much attention to my chest," No really I didn't; and for some reason I feel like saying his name is insulting him. Which actually I think it is, its putting us on the same level, as equals and he really doesn't like that. Oh good logical thought is back, must be sobering up. "But how can they be fake I mean look at them!" I'm obviously not sober enough just yet, as what's worse is I let him look. I actually unbutton my blouse and toss it on the floor. My whole chest is on display for him to see. I mean, I'm wearing a bra of course, but that's hardly helping the situation. Then I notice something, Snape is…I mean he looks…afraid. Actual fear has begun to spread across his face. And suddenly the world is a better place, all thanks to my boobs.

"Granger!" His voice is unusually high "Put your clothes back on now or I will report you to Professor McGongall!" He backs up and stumbles just a little on the desk behind him. It seems that Snape's usual ability to glide like an ice skater has vanished.

"Ok then." I say nonchalantly "if that's what you really want." I lean over to pick my blouse up, giving him full view of my chest. I start buttoning up my blouse slowly, I try to keep the laughter down, (and seeing the look that's developing on Snape's face this is no easy job,) as I do my almost reverse, strip tease. It's like a dog that's seen a juicy piece of meat, but he's not sure if it's safe or if he's allowed to eat it. He straightens himself up and asks angrily;

"For gods sake Granger are you going to make this potion, or just expose various parts of your self to me at random intervals?" I think about it, for a long time purely to annoy him. "I had no idea that it took that long to decide to make a potion, for which you have, no ingredients." The smugness is back.

"Well tempting as option 2 is, I think I'll go with option 1." I answer, to which he is clearly about to say something but I continue with "I'll make it tomorrow if that's ok with you, Severus?"

"What's the matter, has the dead undergrowth you've been wearing, fell out of your make-shift storage compartment, or have you realised that you do not belong in class rooms that far exceed your intellect?" he says silkily.

"Oh sugar, and I was wearing that just for you." I say in mock disappointment.

"Granger get of my classroom now before I make you!" He shouts.

My eyes narrow, "Fine." I walk towards the door "If that's the way you want it. I'll be back early tomorrow morning." I'm not sure if it's bravado, or just for pure hilarity, as I add "See you then, Sevvy-poo." in a tone that would make anyone physically ill, and then literally run out of the door.

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