Oh, but she was pissed.

The stupid, inconsiderate, ungrateful, slimy, underhanded, lying, cheating, stupid . . .

Oh, damn. She'd used that one already.

She shrugged and took another slug from the bottle in her hand, continuing to stumble along her merry way. She could always count on the gardens to be . . . something. Her mind wandered mid-thought back to the image of her husband and that horrendous little blonde . . .

It wasn't as if she even needed the prick anyway. She snorted. That's all he really was to her anymore; a prick. Not even a good one at that. It wasn't like that girl would be getting anything worthwhile from him. Unless he finally found someone who would put that stupid damn outfit on for him . . .

She flopped down onto a bench, fortuitously in her path. Leaning back after another swig, she shouted up at the moon and anyone else who would listen.

“And fuck you anyway, Ron Weasley!” She drained the bottle and tossed it to the ground.

“And fuck you for making me believe you.” She mumbled, brushing a tear from her eyes. She shoved her hair back, frustrated with the tangles in her eyes.

“Oh, to hell with this.”

She pulled out her wand, pointing it at the bottle. With a swish and a well timed flick, the glass morphed into a pair of small, sharp scissors. She picked them up and gave them a testing snip.

Snip.

One curl fell to the grass in front of her. Damn him for trying to tell her it didn't mean anything. Bit by bit, the tangled mass began to tumble from her scalp. Damn him for telling her he liked it anyway. She hacked at a particularly thick knot close to her scalp. Fucker.

“You know, there are easier ways of doing that.” She started, a voice rumbling off to her left.

She squinted, unable to make out any shape in the shadows.

“Who's there?” She held the scissors out like a wand.

“I hardly think that will make a difference, Mrs. Weasley.” The dark clad figure stepped out into the moonlight. She might have been surprised if she was less drunk.

“Snape. So good to see you. And it's Granger, thank you. Now bugger off.” She glared at him and began to hack away again.

He slid onto the empty bench next to her. “The irrepressible Granger intellect abandon you? Fail a practical with Minerva, did we?” He rose one eyebrow.

“Oh, like you care. And no, it has nothing to do with my studies.” She rolled her eyes, turning toward the man beside her. “Didn't I tell you to bugger off?”

He chuckled at that. “You did.” He crossed his arms.

Smug bastard. She huffed, and continued to chop. After a long minute of silence broken only by the sounds of her scissors, she risked a glance back, only to find him still staring at her.

“What?” Infernal man. Why on earth was he still sitting there?

He said nothing, just smirked. The prat.

“Oh, wipe that grin off your damn face. It's not like you would even know what it's like.” She gestured broadly with the scissors, a wobbling, swinging arc. “You didn't find your husband . . . wife . . . person . . . Oh, fuck it!” She chucked the scissors a few feet from her, half her hair still long. Throwing her face into her hands, she began to sob.

Snape stood and went to retrieve the implement. He walked slowly back over and took a seat, closer this time. Smoothing her hair back, he began to clip her hair.

“I was on my way to the Hall when I heard you screaming at him, you know.” He threaded his fingers carefully through the tangles, separating them before cropping them. “I doubt many heard, but you should be careful in the future.”

She glared at him with red eyes. “It wasn't as if I expected to find my fucking husband in bed with another woman. I didn't think to cast a fucking silence . . . thing . . . charm before I entered my own quarters.” She hiccuped. “And I certainly do not intend to make a repeat performance.”

Snape snipped the last of the long strands away and gently nudged her to turn. As she complied, he began to even out the half she'd cut rather haphazardly.

“I was only insinuating, Ms. Granger, that you should be careful with your revenge.” He combed the short hair out, checking that it was all relatively the same length. “He never deserved you anyway.”

She turned back to Snape, frowning.

“What do you mean? He was kind, and always there for me . . .”

Snape cut her off with a wave of his hand, then placed the scissors back in her hand. “No, Hermione, he wasn't. The boy was running around on you from day one.”

She started at that. “No! He couldn't possibly have been! I would have known! He wouldn't have done that . . .”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “I know you didn't want to think it. But the signs were there.” He leaned forward and kissed her brow. “And when you're ready to see that, maybe you'll also see that there are people who would never do that to you. People who . . .” He paused a moment, unsure. He looked away as he spoke again. “People who care very much for you, Hermione.”

He stood abruptly, embarrassed, and pulled out his wand. With a flick, the scissors turned back into a bottle. “If you'll excuse me, I must be going.” As he walked off into the shadows, he added, “Do be careful, Ms. Granger.”

She stared at the bottle, mumbling.

“I must be really pissed.”

She stood and stumbled off in the opposite direction.

***

My first SS/HG fic. Inspired by the film, "Frida."

La bruja is Spanish for witch, and a traditional song featured in the film.