A/N: Thanks for the great reviews!

Power in All Its Glory

Chapter 11: A New Discovery

Bastard! Bastard! Bastard! Hermione fumed as she slammed down her glass of butterbeer.

The conversation around her stopped as her two companions stared at her.

"Mione?" Harry looked at her with concern. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She stated. Hermione then gave them a little smile. "It's just that the book I was waiting for still isn't in at the bookstore. It is so frustrating."

"If you say so." Ron rolled his eyes and looked over at Harry as if to say 'she is really mental.' In fact, Hermione could clearly hear him saying it since it was something he was fond of saying about her all the time.

"So what were you guys talking about?" Hermione asked, trying to remain interested in their conversation.

"Well" Harry said, "We were just discussing what happened at breakfast today."

Ron took his cue and ran with it. "Yeah, we thought Draco had been acting strange lately. I guess Pansy thought so, too."

"Really?" Hermione asked. "I hadn't noticed."

She also didn't notice the look Ron gave to Harry as her thoughts once again drifted back to her Potions professor.

What right did he have to control her life? He had ordered her about as if she was a mindless twit who couldn't think on her own. He had used her for his own gain and played with her emotions with out compunction. She would show him. She was not some starry-eyed girl who would just follow him anywhere. She would do things her way and if he didn't like it then he could sod off. Bastard.

Once again, conversation stopped as Ron and Harry stared at her. Oops. That time she had said it aloud.

"Who? Draco?" Ron asked her.

Hermione was confused. She really needed to pay better attention. Especially since her friends were looking at her as if she was one of Hagrid's strange creatures. "Well, obviously Draco's a bastard. That goes with out saying."

"And yet, you said it. Rather loudly." Harry pointed out.

"Oh, look. There's Neville." Hermione was glad for the distraction. "Hey, Neville, over here." She waved to the young Gryffindor.

As Neville joined the group, Hermione thought again of the orders she had been given. She was supposed to talk to Neville about pretending to be her boyfriend. Not that it was a bad idea. It had some merit. It was just the fact that it was his idea.

Bastard.

****

Hermione kicked her shoes off. They hit the adjacent wall with a loud crash. Now that she was alone, she could safely vent her anger. She had cast a silencing charm on her room and now she used her wand to loudly close the blinds on the windows. It was times like these that she was glad she had her own room.

The anger seemed to boil over inside her as the distraught girl chucked her hairbrush across the room. Its only crime was that it was within her easy reach. She continued to take out her anger on her innocent belongings until the wave of fury passed, and she was left with a feeling of quiet exhaustion. Hermione threw herself on the bed. Various emotions threatened to rise again as she thought of the man who was the cause of her anger and frustration.

She tried to distract herself by thinking of her earlier conversation with Neville.

Surprisingly things had gone well. He had agreed to the plan without hesitation. She had explained how it would be easier for them to plan if others thought they were together. Maybe, she had told him, they could discover what this was all about and somehow save Hogwarts. He had been agreeable, eager even, to participate in the charade. Hermione felt a pang of guilt. She had the feeling that Neville had a little crush on her. This wasn't the first time she had thought it, either. So what? She told herself. He knew what he was getting into. Was it necessarily a bad thing to use someone's affections for your own gain if that person was aware of what was going on?

Yes! It was wrong! Her mind screamed the answer at her. How was she any better than Snape?

And as always, her mind once again returned to her dark professor. Why was she so angry with him? It wasn't as if he had changed at all. In fact, his actions were completely in character for him. What did she expect? She knew he was trying to protect them both, although he was using rather unorthodox methods.

Hermione sighed deeply. She had to acknowledge that she wasn't mad at Snape because he had manipulated and controlled her. Not that she liked it at all. But that wasn't why she was furious with him. So what was her problem?

He had shattered her dreams. Destroyed her fantasies. She had this image of Professor Snape that she had clung to. It was not real. She had somehow devised this image of him as perfect. With it, she could explain all his imperfections away. She was in love with a dream. How did this happen, she wondered? She never even realized she was doing it. And now she questioned everything. Her feelings for him had seemed so real, so tangible. All that was shattered in an instant. By one kiss.

The kiss. She had imagined kissing him many times. She was so sure of what it would be like. How could she know? Her imagination lacked the experience, the knowledge required for the depth of the kiss she had experienced.

It was not a perfect, wonderful kiss, which had left her breathless and wanting more. Instead, it was real. Nothing could prepare her for that. The feel of his lips pressed against hers. The pressure that was almost painful. The smell of his skin and his breath mingling with hers. The sounds of their kissing and of his ragged breathing as he pulled away. But most of all the taste of him as his tongue explored her mouth. It was not something she could describe and yet something she would never be able to forget. How inadequate her fantasies had been.

And now they were replaced by the image of a man. An ill tempered, sarcastic, raw, sensual man. At that moment, Hermione felt like the little girl Snape always accused her of being. What had she been playing at? Did she even know?

The feelings of love, admiration, and idolization of Severus Snape were gone, forever. They were replaced with something else. A need. One she had never felt before. An agonizing, aching need that seemed to consume her. He had given her a taste, a bite, and now she wanted more. With one kiss, he had changed her. Gone were the little girl fantasies. In their place were the longings of a young woman. She was frustrated, angry, infuriated. One thing had not changed. It was still all his fault.

Bastard.