Polyjuice Ball

After the war employment opportunities abounded. The Ministry of Magic had offered Hermione a position as a department head. They didn't seem to care which department, as long as they were able to announce to the Wizarding world that the golden trio were in the Ministry's employ. Harry and Ron had taken the offers without hesitation and were now heading up the Auror and Sports departments respectively.

Hermione however, had not immediately jumped into a new job. She didn't feel ready after the war. Hermione didn't understand how people were just moving on with their lives as though nothing had ever happened.

Hermione had not been able to undo the memory charms she had put on her parents and had no home to return to. Sirius had offered her one of the many empty rooms at Grimmauld Place which she gratefully accepted.

Hermione was a shadow of her former self, directionless. Day after day she buried herself in the Black library, reading to distract herself from the flashbacks that overwhelmed her.

A tawny brown owl landed in her lap with a soft hoot, bearing a scroll of parchment. Hermione knew what it would say before she opened it. This was the fifth letter of its kind, a job offer from McGonnagall for the vacant role of Muggle Studies professor.

She had responded in the negative to the first offer which had seemed to spur McGonnagall to turn up to Grimmauld Place in person and stage an intervention. When that had failed, various Order members had dropped in under various excuses and tried to convince her to take the post. Hermione, recognising these visits for what they were, had stopped pretending to humour them politely and had resorted to ensconcing herself in her room whenever visitors dropped in. She felt bitter, angry in a way she never had before. Everyone was just carrying on with their lives as though it never happened, as though she, Harry and Ron hadn't sacrificed everything. As though she hadn't lost some of the people she cared about most. As though her only family, her parents -

With a careless flick of her wand she sent the unopened letter sailing into the fire. The owl gave a reproachful hoot, before shooting back out the open window as though it feared being the next object of her rage.

A honeyed baritone addressed her from the doorway of the library, smooth and mocking.

"My, my. Without even opening it. Minerva would be so disappointed to hear that her star pupil no longer considers her correspondences worth the time it would take to read them." Hermione glanced towards the doorway, unabashed.

"What do you want, Snape?"

He stalked closer, "is that any way to address a former professor?" He asked silkily.

"Would you prefer Professor, Sir, or perhaps...Severus?" She replied mockingly, unable to keep the bitter sting out of her tone. He stalked around her, laying a pale hand on the armrest of her armchair. "So bitter," he tutted "it doesn't suit you. Are you missing the attention from being a member of the golden trio? No longer feeling important or relevant now the Dark Lord has been vanquished?" Hermione's rage increased. Her eyes burned with hatred. "Or perhaps, you just enjoy doing nothing? I hear that the Ministry pay out means that you will never have to work a day in your life. But even so, I always expected more from Griffindor's princess."

Hermione cursed. This man knew nothing! Nothing! "

Or perhaps, the Golden princess is too high and mighty for a mere teaching post at Hogwarts." Hermione cursed, unable to hold her tongue any longer. "It's not like that!" "Are you just too busy then?" He asked sarcastically, shooting a glance at her pyjamas, tea and pile of books "do forgive my intrusion. Clearly you have much more pressing priorities to attend to."

That utter, complete Asshole! Hermione would have thought that he might have shown at least a little bit of gratitude after she saved his life in the Shrieking Shack with that Merlin-damned phoenix tear!

"Perhaps I'll see you at the Order meeting tonight" he offered silkily. Hermione grunted by way of reply, flipping a page nonchalantly as she feigned interest in the same page she had been open at for the last three hours. "Or, even better," he added with a nasty smile "perhaps I won't. Especially since the Order is concerned with taking action. I expect you will be too busy sitting on your perky ass to attend." Before she could retort he had turned on his heel. With a crack! he was gone.

Prick!