Chapter 3
“Hermione… Are you sure this is a good idea?” Ginny Weasley asked cautiously, eyeing her roommate with a mix of awe and concern.
After the whole skirt incident, Hermione had decided to take things a step further—today, she wasn’t just going to class, she was making a statement. Normally, her school-day look consisted of light concealer, a touch of blush, and a soft lip. But this morning? She went full glam: bold lashes, heavy contour, and a dangerously bright red lipstick.
“Yes! I mean, come on—Severus Snape wouldn’t dare remove my makeup in public.” Hermione said confidently, finishing off her transformation with a few sprays of her rose perfume.
Ginny choked on the cloud of fragrance. “Urg… I don’t know, Hermione. He unrolled your skirt in front of the whole class. Public decency isn’t exactly his strong suit.”
“You don’t have to remind me,” Hermione huffed, rolling her eyes. “Now come on—we’re going to be late.”
The girls made their way toward the Great Hall, and immediately Hermione felt it—eyes. All on her. Whispers followed her down the corridor like perfume trailing in the air. Exactly what she wanted.
Ginny, on the other hand, was shrinking under the weight of the attention. “This is so embarrassing,” she muttered.
“Oh my days, Hermione! You look—” Harry blurted out the moment he saw her, drawing more heads in their direction.
“Fabulous,” Neville chimed in, finishing Harry’s sentence like it was obvious.
Ron, not missing a beat, coughed dramatically. “What’s with the perfume? Bloody hell—I can’t breathe!”
Hermione smirked. “Oh, shut up, Ronald. You’re just jealous.”
“Jealous? Of what exactly?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Jealous of how I’ve got all eyes on me.”
Ron snorted. “Wait till Snape sees you. Then we’ll see who’s jealous.” He winked at her before heading out with Harry, still chuckling.
After breakfast, Hermione and Ginny took a slow walk around the courtyard. Unfortunately—or maybe fortunately—they ran right into Professor Snape at the corner of a corridor.
Snape’s eyes locked on Hermione immediately. One brow lifted.
“Miss Granger,” he said, his tone cool and sharp.
“What, Professor?” Hermione replied innocently, blinking up at him.
“I assume you’re treating Hogwarts as your personal runway?”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”
“Your makeup.”
“What about it?” she asked with a sly grin, stepping just a bit closer.
Snape narrowed his eyes. “Have you still not learned your place?”
In one swift movement, he turned, pressing her back against the stone wall. “If you’ll excuse us, Miss Weasley,” he added without even glancing at Ginny, who quickly disappeared down the hallway.
With a flick of his wand, a makeup wipe appeared in his hand. Hermione’s eyes widened.
“No!” she shrieked, trying to wriggle free.
“I suggest you stop moving.” His voice was low—dangerously low.
He wiped the blush and concealer clean off her cheeks with slow, deliberate strokes, leaving only the bold red lipstick behind. Then he paused.
“To be fair… red does suit you, Granger.”
Hermione smirked. “Is that a compliment, sir?”
Snape rolled his eyes, expression unreadable. “We are still at Hogwarts.”
Then, without hesitation, he pressed his thumb to her lips, smudging the bright red color until it smeared across her skin.
“Better.”