Chapter 5 ~ A Bit of Tension
Hermione apparated outside Hogwarts main gate, her vision blurred by tears as she unwarded the gate and hurried through, forgetting to ward it back as she half ran towards the castle. Luckily, the gates would seal and ward themselves after a moment or two, so the witch's carelessness did no harm in this case.
She couldn't believe it. Of all the witches to run into, it had to be Rita Skeeter. Hermione was perpetually in the reporter's sights ever since she had bested her on several occasions when still a student at Hogwarts. The Gryffindor had kept the witch in a charmed glass jar in her animagus form for two weeks, then on another occasion, blackmailed her into writing the true story about Voldemort's return according to Harry. Rita never got over a mere slip of a witch outmaneuvering her, and had to feel on top of the world now that she had some news on her.
Getting a makeover was actually no big deal, but Hermione was certain Rita would find a way to put a horrible spin on it. She pushed open the double doors and rushed down the dungeon corridor, tears still streaming from her eyes.
Severus was just leaving Slytherin house and on his way to start his rounds early. The students knew what time he normally did them, and he hoped to catch a few who hoped to get all their devilment done before he appeared. He was a bit surprised to see Hermione hurrying down the corridor. She hadn't been gone a good hour. Hm. She was crying. Maybe the Auror wasted no time putting the moves on the witch. The wizard couldn't resist taking a stab at her when they passed.
"A rather early ending to your date, Miss Granger. Did your beau grope you, or otherwise abuse your person?" the wizard purred at her.
Hermione looked at him, her face tear-stained.
"Shut up and mind your own business, Professor!" she spat, rushing past him.
Severus' eyes went wide and he spun as she passed. Did the little chit just tell him to…to shut up? No one talked to him that way.
"Miss Granger, just because you had a bad night that is no reason to be rude," he chastised her.
Hermione looked at him incredulously as she unwarded her door.
"You have some fucking nerve talking about someone being rude! If you said a pleasant word to anyone your face would probably crack in half from the stress," the witch snarled at the Potions Master.
Severus scowled blackly.
Not only had Hermione been purposely rude, she cursed when addressing him.
"Miss Granger, my responses to the unwelcome advances of others are based on my personality, not because I am throwing some kind of tantrum," he said pointedly.
Hermione opened her door and looked back at the Professor.
"Oh, just fuck you, Professor!" she yelled at him, entering her rooms and slamming the door behind her.
Stunned, Severus stared at the closed door.
"Why that little…" he growled impotently at the closed portal. "How dare she…gah!"
Severus threw up his hands and stormed down the corridor. Any students he caught in the wrong were definitely going to suffer tonight.
As he walked, Severus couldn't help but wonder what had happened to make the witch act so, so uncharacteristically. He had seen the witch angry before, but not to this degree. He had never heard a foul word come out of her mouth before. That she could even wrap her mouth around such language was surprising. So the Gryffindor angel did have a bit of darkness in the wings.
For some reason, he found he approved of that.
The Potions Master turned into the main hall and headed for the main stairwell. Time to catch some rulebreakers.
Hermione quickly undressed, throwing on her housecoat over her nightgown, then sat on the edge of her bed, fuming. Rita was such a bitch. Now her makeover would be fodder for the wizarding world. Before and after pictures. Dear gods.
The witch flopped back in her bed and thought about her situation. She was calming now and began to be able to look at her problem logically.
First off, her makeover was a noticeable change in her. She always knew it would be…that was why she got it in the first place. She wanted to start dating and doing the things that other young witches did. She didn't try to hide how she used to look before from Justice. It just didn't come up. Why would it? He was out with her as she was now, not then. Why did she feel so ashamed?
Because Rita was taking something that was done in relative quiet, and making it into a public spectacle. Yes, the change in Hermione seemed rather remarkable, but the truth was it was completely natural. Adam had just fixed her hair, eyebrows and teeth. The result was because that was how she looked when properly maintained. She looked good.
Why did she feel like hiding now? Hiding would do no good. Rita wanted her to go underground most likely, to be ashamed…to hide herself.
Well, she wouldn't do it. No matter what the reporter put in the Daily Prophet, she would hold her head high. She did nothing wrong…hell, she did nothing that any other witch wouldn't do. Went to a beauty parlor and got fixed up.
Fuck Rita.
Hermione sighed and closed her eyes. Then her mind drifted to Professor Snape. Shit. She had treated him horribly. She hadn't meant to curse the wizard but he caught her at a bad time. He didn't have a monopoly on snarkiness after all. Everyone was entitled to be in a bad mood after all. Plus, he saw she was upset and purposely goaded her, asking if her date abused her. He had some nerve.
Well, he wouldn't be getting an apology. He should have done just what she told him. Shut up and mind his own business. What happened to her was none of his concern.
You have to work with him.
Damn, that was true. Their little run-in could have negatively affected their upcoming project together.
Hermione snorted.
The Professor was most likely going to act the bastard anyway, whether she had cursed him or not. It was his nature after all. If he was pissed at her, so what? He stayed in a perpetual state of "pissed" anyway. At least he'd have a reason for it now.
She lay there, then thought about Justice. The poor wizard. She just bolted on him. He hadn't deserved that, but she was so upset she just couldn't look at Rita any longer. The witch's very presence ruined the night. She would have to go to the Ministry tomorrow, find Justice and apologize to him. If he wanted to even talk to her after seeing those pictures in the paper. Some wizards were funny. He might not want to date someone who used to look like that. His friends might tease him.
Well, she'd find out the kind of wizard he really was tomorrow when she went to apologize. If he was that shallow, maybe it was good Rita showed up. Otherwise she might not have known until she became involved with him.
Involved?
Hermione blushed a bit at the thought. Her 'involved' with a wizard. Intimately. The little contact she had with the Auror made her feel very aware of both herself and him. On the broom, she leaned against him, and his body was rather hard and lean…so different from her own softness. He made her feel safe too, but maybe that was because he was an Auror.
Justice was also very, very handsome. Just the kind of wizard she thought she would never attract. Tall, brown-eyed, well-built…actually quite a hottie.
Hermione giggled. Her, out with a hottie. It was as if the world had turned upside down. She wondered if he would have tried to kiss her goodnight…and if she would have let him. Probably. She was becoming aware of new feelings rising in her in the past couple of weeks. Although she had never experienced them before, they were decidedly sexual. The witch figured that she was feeling like this now, because she actually was attracting male interest. Before, the feelings would have just been a terrible distraction and she probably repressed them rather than go through sexual frustration.
It was as if her body was becoming highly sensitive to touch. In the shower, she had the water on high and the feel of it on her skin had caused her nipples to harden. She guiltily touched her breasts a bit, and it felt delicious…but that was all she did. It felt very dirty to touch herself. Dirty and exciting. But she stopped.
A bit of warmth flowed through the witch as she wondered what it would be like to be touched by a man…to be kissed…to be…to be…
She shuddered as suddenly a sweet ache hit her core.
"Oh gods," she groaned, sitting up in the bed. "I'm turning myself on."
She wrapped her arms around her belly and sat there uncomfortably, willing for the feeling to go away. It wouldn't.
"Damn," she breathed, squirming a little bit. She had to do something to stop it. But only naughty witches did things like that.
Maybe she was a naughty witch. She thought about what she had read in books. She used to sneak and read erotic books when she was younger and the witches in them would masturbate. She was always too uptight and embarrassed to try. But she was supposed to focus on a man when she did it.
Hermione picked up her wand off the nightstand and lowered the torches, as if that would make what she was about to do more permissible. The witch then laid back on the bed, pulled her nightie up a bit, and slid the crotch of her panties aside, picturing Justice's handsome face and imagining him shirtless. She slipped a finger between her labia clumsily, gasping at how wet she was down there. She could smell her own muskiness.
The witch rubbed, groaning a little at how her fingers felt as they moved over her moist sensitive skin. She touched her clit and buckled. Shit! Oh gods!
Hermione worked at herself, her eyes half-lidded, Justice's image focusing and unfocusing as she stimulated herself…his features becoming darker as the witch let out a moan, a knot forming in her belly. She worked her hand faster, the scent of her arousal becoming stronger as she writhed.
Suddenly she was on the edge of orgasm, and the image of Justice changed. Hermione shrieked in horror and release as she climaxed to the sharp, pale features of one Professor Severus Snape.
"Noooooo!" she cried, going into meltdown, bliss thrumming through her.
She rode out her orgasm, going boneless and panting as it subsided.
"Dear gods…what was that?" she said to herself. "No. That was just…just wrong. So wrong."
She shuddered.
That had to be a fluke…the wizard probably popped up because of their altercation. It couldn't be anything else. She found nothing remotely sexy about the snarky Potions Master. He was cold, rude and a right bastard.
It was a fluke. A horrible, twisted fluke. She couldn't have orgasmed to the thought of Severus. It was just too terrible to consider.
Tired now, the witch reached out and grabbed her wand, plunging her room into total darkness, as if it would hide the reality of what just occurred.
But it didn't.
The next morning, Hermione showered and forced herself not to think about the terrible end to her first masturbation session. She waited until she was sure the Potions Master had eaten and exited the Great Hall before she went to breakfast. She didn't want to see him for two reasons now. The first, being she had cursed him…the second…well, the above.
She peeked out of her rooms, looking up and down the corridor. Some Slytherin students were on their way to breakfast, but their Head of House was nowhere to be seen. Dressed in her everyday robes, the witch exited her rooms, falling in step behind the students and making her way to the Great Hall.
Suddenly she was snatched out of the corridor and into a niche by a strong pale hand. She looked up into the scowling face of one Severus Snape. She stared at him, speechless.
"I believe your actions last night had something to do with this," he purred, thrusting the Daily Prophet at her.
Hermione took it and grimaced as she looked at two side by side photos of herself, one with her brittle-haired, unibrowed and buck-toothed, the other as she looked now. The caption read:
Hogwarts Spells Mistress Undergoes Miraculous Change from Beast to Beauty.
Story page three.
"Damn," she breathed, Severus staring at her to see her reaction.
Hermione folded the paper up and handed it back to him.
"Aren't you going to read the article?" the Potions Master asked her silkily.
"No," Hermione said.
He looked at her a moment.
"Very wise, Miss Granger. To read it would lend it credence," he said, studying the witch. "Now, as to your actions last night, whereas I understand your frustration, I do not appreciate being spoken to in such a manner. I believe an apology is in order."
Hermione looked up at him.
"You won't be getting one, Professor. You might think yourself beyond reproach in this case, but the truth is you purposely picked at me when you saw I was upset. So you got what you deserved in my opinion. I would no sooner apologize to you than send Rita Skeeter a thank you note," she said.
"Is that so, Miss Granger?" Severus purred, moving closer to the witch and trapping her against the wall.
Hermione was aware of a kind of thrill ripping through her as the wizard intruded on her personal space, his dark eyes resting on her face.
"Yes it is," the witch managed to get out. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't stand so close to me, Professor," she said.
But Severus was remembering her against another dungeon wall in his dream. The wizard went unfocused for a moment, until he felt a small hand pushing at his chest.
"Get away, Professor," Hermione said.
Severus caught her hand. It was soft, tiny and very warm
"I didn't touch you, Miss Granger…why are you touching me?" he asked her silkily.
"I need my space," she said, trembling a little now.
The Potions Master's quick black eyes took in her trembling. He gave her a half-smirk, released her hand and stepped away, noticing how the witch drew in a long, deep breath.
"Run, Miss Granger," he said softly.
The witch didn't have to be told twice. Hermione bolted from the niche, the wizard stepping out and watching her hurry up the corridor, his eyes narrowed. Then he turned and headed for his office, looking quite thoughtful.
Quite thoughtful indeed.
"Oh my gods…what's happening to me? Ew," Hermione breathed as she headed for the Great Hall double-time.
Professor Snape's proximity had caused quite a reaction in her. It was as if for an instant she wanted the snarky wizard to press his body against hers. When she shoved her hand against his chest, the wizard felt as if he were made of stone, chiseled stone. She could feel the relief of his chest beneath her palm. And the way he told her to run…it was as if he were warning her off.
Hermione considered this for a moment. No. No it wasn't like that. It wasn't as if he were warning her off. It was more as if the dark wizard were playing some kind of game and giving her a head start before he tracked her down and caught her.
Hermione shuddered.
She didn't want to think about what the end of a game played with the Professor would be like.
The out-of-sorts witch turned down the corridor that led to the Great Hall's staff entrance and entered.
Immediately, everyone looked at her, teachers and students alike. Hermione flushed slightly and walked to her seat, sitting down and doing her best to order breakfast as if nothing were wrong.
The female staff members were whispering among themselves and looking at her, as were the students. Albus, seated at the far end of the table looked upon the witch with kindly eyes. Rita Skeeter was certainly a dislikable person.
Hermione ordered a soft-boiled egg, toast and a slice of lean ham for breakfast, along with a glass of milk. She began to eat, aware of people watching her. But no one said anything yet about the article.
Marcus Delaluci looked down the table at her. That article ought to take her down a peg, maybe make her more accessible. She didn't want people thinking she was stuck up now, did she? Count on Marcus to try to milk the situation for all it was worth.
Hermione had just bitten into her toast when she heard a small, female voice.
"Um, Spells Mistress?" the voice said.
Hermione looked up to see a young Gryffindor witch in her fifth year looking shyly up at her from the main floor. She had black-hair, blue eyes and an acne-splattered face.
"Yes?" she replied to the witch, who shuffled her feet a bit.
"My name is Melissa Oddlocks. I just want to say that I think you look really pretty and because of you, I'm not worried that I won't be pretty too anymore, and think that there's nothing wrong with getting help to look my best if I need it. I just wanted you to know, so you don't feel bad about what's in the Prophet. There's a lot of girls that have hope now because of you. A lot of ugly ducklings that think maybe later they can become swans like you did," the girl said, giving Hermione a small smile.
Hermione's eyes glistened, as did Minerva's and a couple of the other female staff members who heard the young girl.
Hermione smiled at the witch warmly. Her heart felt as if it would burst out of her chest.
"Thank you for telling me that, Melissa," Hermione said, her voice quavering with emotion.
"You're very welcome, Spells Mistress," the girl replied, returning to her seat to be surrounded by others, who smiled up at Hermione gratefully.
Hermione returned to her meal with almost an ache in her heart. She had no idea she inspired others by getting her makeover. It made her feel good to know that an act that was decidedly selfish in nature was serving a greater purpose.
The female staff members were all silent now. They had forgotten what it was like for young, insecure witches dealing with the changes their bodies and looks went through during adolescence. How devastating a zit could be or how hard it was when boys ignored them because they weren't "pretty" enough. How alone a young witch could feel because of their hair or teeth or even a unibrow. They all looked at Hermione rather guiltily. She had gone through that for years, and they hadn't made it any easier for her. They had never offered to help her either, choosing instead to ridicule the Spells Mistress.
They couldn't blame it all on Sybil. True, the Divination teacher had been the ringleader but they didn't have to follow her. The truth was, they were all insecure and older witches…it was rare they could target a younger one and feel they were more attractive. Hermione had been a kind of punching bag for them, and since she never took them to task they felt free to continue their treatment of her.
Each witch knew that Hermione couldn't truly be blamed for not associating with them. They were so mean and catty toward the witch, for her to do so would be hurtful, and who wanted to set herself up for hurt?
Professor Sinistra looked over at Hermione, who was smiling down into her food.
"I feel so ashamed of myself," she said quietly to no one in particular.
Professor Sprout nodded.
"We've been a bunch of bitches, not witches," the Herbology teacher said, blinking rapidly as she looked at the table of pimply-faced, imperfect young witches smiling and talking animatedly among themselves.
Madam Hooch was frowning.
"Well, she made herself an easy target. She did nothing to improve herself for years. It made no sense for a young woman to let herself go like that," Hooch sniffed.
Everyone turned on her.
"But we made no effort to help her, did we? Any of us could have helped her with her hair and her eyebrows…convinced her to get her teeth done much earlier than she did. We were perfectly horrible," Minerva said, feeling like a stone was in her belly. "Instead of snickering behind her back we should have been doing all we could to make her feel like one of us."
Madam Hooch looked a bit subdued at Minerva's statement.
Pomona looked at the witch.
"Well, I'm going to be supportive from here on out," the chubby witch said, "I just hope it isn't too little, too late. I wouldn't blame Hermione if she never talked to any of us."
"We'll just have to find a way to make it up to her," Minerva said determinedly.
The Transfiguration teacher looked down at the Daily Prophet, and her eyes narrowed.
"I think I may just know a way," she said darkly.
She looked at Professor Sinistra.
"Aurora, do you think you could cover my classes this morning? I need to take a trip to Diagon Alley," Minerva said to the Astronomy teacher.
"Certainly," the teacher replied, "But really, Minerva, you must tell us what you're up to."
Minerva shook her head.
"No, not until I get all the details hashed out, but I want all of you to keep your evening free and your traveling cloaks close. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do," Minerva said, rising imperiously and walking quickly away.
She slowed down behind Hermione as if to speak, but seemed to think better of it. Actions would speak louder than words in this instance. If what Minerva had planned worked out, then the Spells Mistress would have no doubt her fellow staff members supported her whole-heartedly.
From the end of the table, Albus watched his witch exit the Great Hall, his eyes twinkling.
"It's about time you came to your senses, Minerva McGonagall," he said to himself, smiling after her.
Hermione apparated to the Ministry about ten o'clock. All around her people were gawking.
"Isn't that the Hogwarts' Spells Mistress?" they whispered to each other.
"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm going down to that Love Bites Beauty shop as soon as I can make an appointment. If that vampire can make a sad case like she was look that good, he can make me into Miss Wizarding World," a blonde witch with a briefcase said to her companion as Hermione walked by her and into the building.
The witch walked up to the information desk. The clerk, a heavy-set brunette woman with hazel eyes looked up at her and did a double take.
"How can I help you, Miss Granger?" she asked Hermione, smiling.
Hermione started to ask the witch how she knew her name, then realized it was because of the Prophet.
"I'd like to see the Auror, Justice Forall please," she said.
"Certainly," the clerk said, still smiling. She pulled what looked like an old fashioned brass hearing aid out from under her desk. It was shaped like a horn.
"Mr. Justice Forall, please come to the reception area. Mr. Justice Forall, the reception area please," the witch said, speaking into the wide end, her voice echoing throughout the Ministry. She put the horn back and looked at Hermione.
"He should be here in a moment," the witch said.
"Thank you," Hermione replied.
"You're very welcome," the witch said…then she hesitated.
"You really look wonderful you know," the receptionist said, leaning forward and speaking in a low voice. "I made an appointment with Mr. Sweetmeats this morning for a makeover. I hope I come out half as good as you did. Nothing wrong with self-improvement. Rita Skeeter is a real bitch to put you out there like that…but most of the witches I've talked to about it are all for you. Including me."
"Thank you," Hermione said.
Wow. It seemed Rita's article wasn't doing the damage she thought it would…at least not among witches. Wizards might feel differently. Well, she'd find out. Justice was striding up the hall. He was looking very sober.
He stopped in front of her.
"Well, good morning, Miss Granger. I didn't get a chance to say good night last night," he said evenly.
"I'm so sorry about that Mr. Forall…it's just that…" Hermione began, then she noticed the receptionist leaning forward and listening to every word.
"Can we…um…walk down the hall a bit?" she asked Justice, her amber eyes shifting toward the receptionist.
Justice nodded and together they walked out of earshot of the witch, who looked slightly disappointed.
The wizard folded his arms and looked at her.
"I'm sorry I left so suddenly, Mr. Forall. I was embarrassed and upset, and I just…just couldn't handle it. I suppose you saw the article in the Prophet, and the pictures…" she said to the Auror.
Justice nodded.
"I did," he said shortly.
"I suppose that you don't want to go out anymore," Hermione said, "Knowing what I used to look like."
Justice studied her for a moment.
"Miss Granger…I have three sisters, all older than me. And every one of them looks almost as frightful as you did in that photo until they hit the bathroom and put their faces on. They scared me to death some mornings. My mum too. At least you aren't loaded down with makeup. Whatever that vampire did to you was minimal. This is who you were all the time. This is who you are now," the Auror said frowning slightly. "Do you think me so shallow that I would want to stop seeing you because of what you used to look like? Let me show you something."
Justice reached in his robes pocket and pulled out a small wallet. He opened it and flicked through some photos then showed her one. It was of a teenaged boy, skinny as a twig with big hands and feet, pimples all over his face and with wild, uncombed hair. He was smiling and holding a quaffle.
"That's me in Hufflepuff my sixth year," he said, wincing at the picture a little. "I keep it with me to keep me humble," he grinned at her.
Hermione could hardly believe the handsome wizard she was looking at now was once that gangly boy.
"You weren't the only ugly duckling, Miss Granger. There were a lot of us," the wizard said. "I think Rita Skeeter's mean-spiritedness backfired on her in this case. I heard a lot of people saying how lovely you looked. Some even accused Rita of being jealous. So you shouldn't let the article bother you or that dumpster-diving reporter."
"Still, I shouldn't have left you like that," she said softly.
"That's all right…now you owe me two dates to make up for it," the Auror said, smiling at her. "Are you busy tonight? We could have our meal at Charlie's. The shrimp cocktail is superb and the crab legs the sweetest you've ever tasted."
Hermione smiled at him.
"All right, Mr. Forall," she said a bit shyly.
"Please, call me Justice," the Auror said in a low voice.
"Justice," she repeated.
He smiled at her.
"And you can call me, Hermione," she said, feeling warm all over at his smile.
"Hermione. Such a lovely name for a lovely witch," Justice said sincerely, kissing her hand gently. "So I will pick you up at seven?"
"Seven will be fine, Mr…I mean Justice," Hermione answered him.
Justice walked Hermione outside the Ministry building.
"I'll see you tonight," he said.
"Tonight," Hermione agreed, disapparating.
Justice took a deep breath, shook his head and walked back into the Ministry. It would take a lot more than a "before" photo to back him up from Miss Hermione Granger.
At seven that night, Rita Skeeter left the offices of the Daily Prophet, satisfied with her daily column.
"I bet the little chit's locked in her rooms at Hogwarts crying her eyes out that she's been exposed," the reporter said to herself gleefully. "That'll teach her to fuck with Rita Skeeter. It took some time, but I got her back. Yes, I did."
Rita made a little skip of joy as she exited through the double doors and walked behind the building, taking a shortcut to the nearest tavern. She always had a little drink after work…for medicinal purposes.
Suddenly, the reporter was grabbed around both arms, her wand plucked from her robes pocket, and a sack drawn over her head. She struggled fruitlessly.
"Unhand me!" she cried. She could hear shuffling feet. There was more than one person.
"I'm sorry honey, but we can't do that. You've got a pressing appointment for a makeunder," an effeminate male voice said, tittering. Other titters joined him.
Rita fell silent. She knew this had to do with Hermione Granger. Shit.
A makeunder? This didn't sound good.
Not good at all.
The next morning, Hermione headed out for breakfast. She had a lovely dinner with Justice the night before, letting him kiss her on the cheek when he returned her to Hogwarts and walked her to her rooms, not knowing that Severus was peeking out of his office and observing them.
"How chaste," he sneered to himself as he watched the Auror give the witch a small peck. By his eyes the Auror wouldn't have minded a little more contact.
"I hope that was worth the galleons you spent on her tonight," Severus muttered closing the door and stalking back into his study.
He dropped into the armchair facing the fire and picked up his firewhiskey. He had been looking out his office the entire evening, chiding himself for it every single time he did it. Why should he care when the witch got back from her date? He swallowed down the contents of his glass in one gulp and scowled into the fire.
Hermione Granger was not his type of witch. He liked them dirty and experienced for the most part. If they weren't dirty when they came to him, they were certainly sullied when they left. The wizard smirked.
Any witch could be sullied. Even innocent Hermione Granger.
"What the fuck am I thinking? The witch doesn't do a gods damn thing for me," he hissed, slamming his glass down on the table. "What do I want with a walking encyclopedia? Besides, she couldn't handle it. It's insane."
But his eye was trained to notice subtle changes…he was a Potions Master after all, and he'd noticed the witch's reaction to him. Part of it was fear, but another part was definitely attraction.
"Forbidden Fruit Syndrome," he muttered. That's all it is on both our parts. She's the untouched, good girl Gryffindor, and I'm the dark, evil Potions Master who would fuck her into conniptions…she knows it too. The witch knows it on some level, and it affects her."
Severus considered. Hermione wasn't a girl anymore. She was a young woman. A very curvaceous young woman, built like he liked them, though he didn't want to admit it to himself.
The wizard rubbed his hand over his pale face. He wasn't sure what to do about this situation. He wasn't a wizard to court a witch. He generally told her what he wanted and either she gave it to him or she didn't. There were no dinners, flowers, chaste kisses on the cheek or sweet talk. There was talk all right, but not sweet and definitely not the kind that one would share publicly. Hermione Granger wouldn't know what to do with him. But he knew what he could do with her. But still…Hermione Granger?
"It's insanity," he said again, rising and heading for his bedroom.
Once again, sleep was a long time coming.
Hermione walked up the dungeon corridor in a very good mood…then slowed as she saw the entire female staff waiting for her, Minerva standing in front.
The witch stopped in front of them.
"Good morning," she said to the witches, her brow slightly furrowed as she tried to figure out what they were all doing there.
"Good morning, Hermione," the witches all replied, looking very expectant for some reason.
Hermione stared at them for a moment, then asked, "Is there a reason all of you are standing here in the dungeon corridor rather than eating your breakfasts?"
Minerva stepped forward.
"Why, yes there is, Hermione. We're all here to apologize for our dismal treatment of you," the witch said, her eyes glistening. "We should have been your friends instead of your tormentors. We treated you so dismally these past couple of years…especially me. I was your Head of House. I was terrible to you. We all were."
Hermione looked at Minerva, but didn't say anything.
"When Rita wrote that horrible article about you, and that young witch came to you and told you what an inspiration you were, we realized just how awful we were being. We're old, silly biddies and fervently hope you will forgive us for our long lapse of judgment and give us another chance to be good friends to you," Minerva said.
Hermione still didn't say anything. Minerva held out the Daily Prophet.
"Here is a token of just how sorry we are and how much we support you. Please, take it."
Hermione slowly took the newspaper and scanned the cover. Her hand went to her mouth and her eyes widened.
"Oh my gods," she breathed.
Then she burst out laughing hysterically, staring at the before and after photos of one Rita Skeeter. The "after" photo was decidedly worse than the before. She read the caption.
Rita Skeeter Gets a New Look
Photo by Bozo Baggins
[Go to: . to see photo]
Hermione giggled and read the article.
Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet columnist and reporter was found bound with a sack over her head outside of the Daily Prophet building at five forty-five am this morning when employees reported for work. Upon removing the sack, it was discovered that the witch had been unflatteringly made over. Miss Skeeter said she was abducted at seven pm the night before and subjected to "treatments" by an unknown number of individuals. She accused Miss Hermione Granger of being involved, but investigation showed that the Hogwarts' Spells Mistress was in the company of Auror Justice Forall at the time of the witch's abduction which was supported by several eyewitnesses who placed both at Charlie's Seafood restaurant. Investigation is on-going.
Hermione looked up at Minerva and the other witches.
"You had something to do with this?" she asked them.
The witches looked around then nodded, grinning.
"Us and Mr. Sweetmeats," Pomona said, grinning wickedly. "It seems he owed Rita for trying to incite the public against him when he first opened his shop. He was quite good. He had an amazing tool that inserted hairs wherever he touched it to. A simple Densaugeo spell fixed her teeth, and her hair, well that was Mr. Sweetmeats as well. He called it a "Makeunder." She looked absolutely ghastly. And there is a spell on her that won't allow her appearance to be changed for an entire month."
Hermione grinned at this. So Rita would get a chance to see how the other half lived.
"This is brilliant," Hermione said, smiling at the witches.
They had gone through a lot to try and make up for their shortcomings. Abducting Rita? And enlisting Adam's aid?
"Who talked to Adam?" she asked.
Minerva turned a few colors.
"I did," she said in a tremulous voice. "He's a bit much, but he grows on you after a while."
The witch didn't know what to make of the vampire Queen when she walked into his shop. Adam was as flamboyant as ever and pulled no punches when he told the Transfiguration teacher she needed to make an immediate appointment, which incidentally she did. When Minerva told him what she wanted to do and why, Adam was in for the long run.
"I will happily break that bitch down to her lowest denominator…not that it's all too far a drop from where she is now," the Queen said, his eyes flashing red and startling Minerva.
Together with the entire female staff, they hid disillusioned at the Daily Prophet, waiting for the witch to depart. They pounced on her and disapparated with her to the Beauty shop, where she was bound and blindfolded in total darkness, then they all went to work on her, the witches taking great pleasure in raggedly clipping her perfectly manicured nails and toes as Adam did the cosmetic changes. As the photo showed, she turned out a perfect fright, suffering from the same shortcomings as Hermione. She already had blotchy skin, but she used cover-up. Adam removed all of that.
Hermione looked at all the witches, who looked apprehensive as they waited for her response. Hermione looked back down at the photo of Rita. They really had gone all out in their effort to show they were sorry. They certainly made the witch pay.
"I guess we can start over," Hermione said, smiling at the witches, who all let out screeches of delight and closed over her, hugging and kissing the witch before sweeping her off to the Great Hall and dragging her chair down to where they sat, chattering happily.
Albus sat at the end of the High Table beaming. It seemed that Hermione's looks weren't the only thing made over.
That night, Hermione walked down to the Professor's office with her arms full of notebooks and parchments. Balancing them precariously, she knocked on the door. After a moment it was pulled open and Severus looked down on her scowling.
"What is it, Miss Granger?" he asked snarkily, angry at being disturbed. He hadn't been doing much more than staring into the flames of his fireplace, but still.
"These are for you, Professor. My research and notes on my experiments with the Dark Mark. I thought it might be easier for us to work together if you knew exactly what I have found out so far, and what I hope to find out. Everything is dated, indexed and footnoted.
"Of course it is," the Professor said snidely, taking the books and parchments out of her hands.
I figure we can start next Saturday if you are free. Probably Sunday as well.
"If I am free, Miss Granger? Of course I am free…no matter what I planned to do. Albus' directive…remember?" he said darkly, his eyes resting on her face.
"Yes, I remember. If there was any other way, Professor," she began.
"Save it," he hissed, slamming the door.
"What a bastard," Hermione thought staring at the door for a moment before heading back to her rooms.
It was going to be a real joy working with the wizard.
Not.
Severus brought the armload of research to his writing desk and piled it on top of it. There were at least ten bound books of research notes, and several parchments of very well drawn examples of the cadaver arms with the Dark Marks, notes in every corner.
Scowling, he sat down and looked through the books, finding the first carefully written notes. As he read, his scowl disappeared and a distinct look of interest replaced it, then one of complete absorption as he read the tests performed and the theories that resulted.
Hermione was of the opinion that the Phantom Summons was not caused by a residual magical signature because of the fluctuations of intensity. She believed there was an actual physical cause for the summons and theorized there was something viable left of the Dark Lord that was in the graveyard. Something distinctly…alive.
Severus felt a coldness in the pit of his stomach as he continued to read. If something living was left of the Dark Lord, then it was possible that he could be restored. He hoped the witch was wrong in her summation…but there was no way she could find out without a living subject to work with. He took a deep breath when she read there would out of necessity be instances when the summons would have to be answered and investigated. The Ministry had exhausted almost every imaginable means of trying to find any signs of the Dark Lord. How would the witch differ in her approach?
Severus considered. This was Hermione Granger. If there were one thing about the witch that always held true, it was that she thought outside the box. She enjoyed challenging and disproving accepted theories. If anyone could find out the mystery behind the summons, it was Hermione Granger.
Severus realized that not only would he be required to be in her lab, but also on call since the Summons happened randomly, and the witch would have to come to him when it occurred, or he would have to go to her. They would be working quite closely together. An eyebrow quirked.
The wizard had not yet decided what he was going to do about the witch. Working with her would most likely help him make his final decision. In the meantime, she would most likely continue to see the Auror…but judging by that kiss on the cheek, they would be taking it slow. Possibly too slow.
The wizard rubbed his eyes, tired now. The witch certainly had all her dragons in a row with this research. Severus found he did feel less apprehensive now that he knew what it was about. It didn't answer his questions on whether her experiments would be painful. The witch had no way of knowing that since all she worked with were dead limbs. He would just have to find out when he reported to her next Saturday.
Severus closed the book he was reading, stretched and retired.
That night, he had another very wet dream about the witch.
The only difference was he was fucking her for all he was worth on a counter in her lab, broken beakers scattered on the floor as he drove into her hungrily.
He woke up, scourgified himself and lay there staring at the ceiling, thinking he was going to have to fuck the witch if this kept up.
It would be the only way to keep his sheets clean.
A/N: So the witches and Hermione made up. Nice. And Severus having dialogues with himself concerning Hermione. Decisions, decisions. Please review.