The F Word

Chapter 2

Hermione's luck did not change that day. It seemed that fate was playing around with her and just for the fun of it, decided to throw a few Fizzing Whizbees her way as well.

Literally.

Unfortunately, and as the day's theme was playing out, those sweets went directly into her pumpkin juice at lunch and without her notice. She only tasted it after the third sip and by that time, she was floating off the bench and hastily grabbing the hem of her skirt.

Humiliating laughter rang out as everyone at lunch saw the Head Girl floating up, up, and up, then tipping by accident, thereby revealing her lavender lace knickers to the entire school. Tears dripped down her nose as she caught sight of Professor Snape grimacing in pity again. Well, at least now he knew the extent of her coordinating lingerie. God! At that morbid thought, she hiccoughed, sobbed, and fell to the floor with a loud whump!

Ignoring the gentle reach of Madam Pomfrey who'd come to help, she quickly scampered over to her bookbag and ran out the door. If she'd been a bit slower, she might have heard both Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey sharply reprimand the students for finding humor in humiliation. She might even have seen the growing look of abject horror on the face of a third year Gryffindor sitting a bit off from the ruckus.

Hermione slowed her escape as her energy ran out from the stress of the day. She reached the Arithmancy classroom hallway and, yawning, decided to hide in an alcove until it was time to enter class. Professor Vector would surely not be long, right? Sitting down carefully, minding the dull ache in her right rump, she pulled out her last bit of homework to review it before handing it in, but couldn't seem to concentrate on the symbols and numbers dancing on the page before her.

The day's horrid events were swimming through her brain and she had no idea how to take it all in...it was almost as if she'd been cursed.

She blinked. Had she been?

No...nothing seemed to be out of place. Then again, she'd not closely monitored her food and drink, as it was the responsibility of the House Elves to do so. Of course, that didn't stop another student from adding something in once it was served...

Surely one of her own housemates wouldn't be so vindictive, and she couldn't think of anyone she'd especially ticked off since the beginning of term, so...

Who and How?

Of course, she could just be having that rotten of a day.

She snorted, deciding to think on it later, and became absorbed in trying to re-read her work.

A hand shook her awake...was it time to get up? Shaking her head and feeling extremely sore from sleeping in the hallway— "Oh, Fuck!"

She'd slept right through Arithmancy! Her heart was pounding in her throat, blood racing in her ears as she scrambled to pull her scattered homework together. A voice interrupted her slow realization that it was dark outside...

"Language, again, Miss Granger. I shouldn't hear such pejorative language from Hogwarts' Head Girl."

It was Professor Snape. Of course it was. And she was probably late for her detention with him, which meant she wouldn't be able to ask him about her reference to Rowan, she wouldn't be able to make up his class, and she probably lost the opportunity of a day's grade in Arithmancy, as well.

With a seething, whining growl, she stood up and slapped the wall, crying another profanity as she did so.

"You're really pushing your limits with me, today, Granger. That's the third time you've spoken out of line in my presence—"

That was just IT! She quickly whirled on him, interrupting his lecture with her own biting tone, "You know what, Professor? After the day I've had, you can just stick it in your ear!"

"My what?"

"Your. EAR!"

She should have been shocked at his snort of laughter, but it just drove her further down the cliffs of insanity. "I've apparently been poisoned, most definitely been dripped on, beaten, hit with unintentional magic, gotten detention, broken two articles of clothing and/or baggage, exposed every bit of my very personal lingerie selection to a teacher, been tripped, fell, scraped my hand, and missed two classes in one day. I've still not heard from Rowan University, and I'm sure it's all your fault! So if you don't want to hear me yell 'FUCK' at the top of my lungs, you can just bloody well plug your ears!"

She was winded from her excellent speech and it felt fantastic to get that out...but...she groaned. She really shouldn't have done that in front of a teacher. Especially this teacher. She covered her face with her hands and leaned back against the wall in despair.

It was perhaps a few moments more before she heard the incredibly surprising sound of a very even-tempered Professor Snape responding to her, "Are you finished?"

Peeking at him from between her fingers in mortification, she replied with a muffled, "Yes."

His arms were crossed over his chest and he was looking down his great nose at her. "Do you feel better?"

She kept her fingers over her face, nodded and said "yes" again.

Somehow he got even taller, lifted his chin up even more, and said, "Then you can march your lavender-clad bum down to the dungeons for your late detention."

She waited...and waited...was that all? No points deduction? She lowered her hands and blinked at him in amazement, then realized with a fierce blush that he'd just referred to the color of her knickers.

Groaning again, she leaned over to pick up her bag, but was stopped by his hand on her arm. "Fix your skirt, for heaven's sake."

Confused, she looked down to find, "Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me! Those little shits!"

Her skirt was only just barely covering the tops of her thighs, apparently the victim of a tailoring charm from some evil little cretin that had been passing her by while she was asleep in the corridor.

She blushed harder and looked up to Professor Snape, now standing within arm's reach of her. "I can't. No magic in the corridors."

He closed his eyes in barely concealed frustration, "After that outburst, you're going to tell me you're concerned with that right now?"

Ah. Well, he did have a point. She let out a shaky, short burst of a sigh and with her wand, lengthened her skirt appropriately.

"Now," he said, his voice dropping into a silky tone that sent shivers up and down her spine, "March."



Continue Reading Next Chapter

About Us

Inkitt is the world’s first reader-powered publisher, providing a platform to discover hidden talents and turn them into globally successful authors. Write captivating stories, read enchanting novels, and we’ll publish the books our readers love most on our sister app, GALATEA and other formats.