A/N: This piece is dedicated to the lovely ladies of the Slytherin Team, from the House Points competition. You know who you are! Silver & Green Forever.

Standard disclaimer, Harry Potter & his universe sadly do not belong to me. I only borrow them from time to time.

o.o.O.o.o

Flick. Whoosh. Yet another edition of the Daily Prophet turned to ash under the practiced hand of one Severus Tobias Snape. The gossip rag masquerading as a newspaper had once again printed an article ascribing deeds to the 'heroic' Ronald Weasley that he knew for a fact had been perpetrated by Hermione Granger. Indeed, to read the Prophet you'd wonder what Miss Granger had actually done during the war, other than hang adoringly off Weasley's arm. He had no idea why Rita seemed to have such an urge to destroy Miss Granger's character, but to him it was blatantly obvious. Whenever the Prophet did run anything about the female member of the Golden Trio, it was to report that she was involved in some scandalous affair or another. It had even accused the new Minister of Magic of only giving her an Order of Merlin because he was sleeping with her. Disgusting.

Said newspaper had also been hounding him for an interview, and those requests were met with increasingly creative refusals. Last week he'd been unavailable for comment because he was simply too busy alphabetizing his storeroom. A tiny, dark smile crossed his lips as he returned to the problem at hand. One of the few benefits to being the former Head of Slytherin was that there was a whole host of graduates that owed him favours. Three of his former students worked at the prophet, and one was a very up and coming young reporter. A reporter that happened to be the editor's nephew. He'd sent an owl for Thomas to come and visit today. He had a proposition for him.

At the arranged for time, a portkey dropped young Thomas Aberdeen at the bottom of his garden. Severus inclined his head politely. "Thomas, so glad you could make it."

"Anything for you, Professor." The young wizard smiled brightly. "Your letter had me intrigued."

"Come inside, and we'll talk everything over," Severus said and turned, heading back up to the cottage he'd taken up residence in. It had belonged to his grandmother, and met his needs adequately enough. A full tea was set up for them, and he invited the young wizard to sit.

"I am prepared to grant you, and only you, an interview about my role in the war," Severus opened with a wicked little grin.

"And in return?" Thomas wisely asked. His eyebrows rose as a thick packet of parchment was dropped in front of him.

"You run a story based off that first. Convince your uncle that it would be greatly in his favour to alter the narrative they've been indulging as of late, and I will give you a story that will curl his toes," he said.

The thick folder was bound with cord, and Thomas unwound it. He saw pages written in his former Professor's spikey script, and he suppressed a shudder. He still had nightmares about the essays he'd gotten back from the man covered in that very handwriting. A few paragraphs in, he stopped and met Severus' eyes. "Why?"

"A debt owed. I'll deal with Rita myself, you simply need to get your uncle on board. You may wish to hint to him that it would be unwise to continue a vendetta against such an accomplished witch as Miss Granger, she did after all face down Bellatrix Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov and live to tell the tale." He sipped his tea, watching the younger wizard across from him pale as the implications sank in.

"Give me a few days to talk to my uncle, I'm sure he'll see the sense in accepting your offer," Thomas said.

"I also expect to review the article before you print it," he fairly purred, enjoying toying with the reporter. Indulging in this side of his personality was a rare treat, and he was already anticipating his confrontation with Rita.

"Of course." He said, finishing his tea. "I should go, and get to work on this. Thank you Professor, it's been good to see you."

"I will await your owl, Mr. Aberdeen." He released him with a nod.

o.o.O.o.o

Severus waited patiently in the shadows of Rita Skeeter's flat, mentally remarking that for such a controversial writer her wards were truly laughable. He supposed that she relied on blackmail to protect herself from her truly dangerous targets, and relied on the general good nature of the others. It was a fatal flaw. Rita had been several years ahead of him at school, and he remembered a great deal about her. She was ambitious, to be certain, but had lacked finesse. It had always left her at a disadvantage when playing the little games that were so prevalent in the Slytherin dungeons. A sliver of light fell across the room as Rita entered the flat, a bag of groceries on her hip.

It was almost too easy. He flicked his wand and caught her in a full body bind. "Too careless Rita…" he sneered, slipping from the shadows and stalking across the room to loom over her helpless body. "I think it's time we had a little chat." He found her wand and pocketed it, before releasing her.

"How dare you!" she snarled and got up, straightening her suit and leveling a furious glare at him. "I could call the Aurors!"

"You could…but I think we both know that when it came time to levy punishment for crimes, you'd come out the worse for it." He gestured for her to sit.

"You can't prove anything Snape." She hissed and sat down.

"You'll find that should I have sufficient motivation, Rita, the proof could be easily manufactured. I know enough about you from your school days alone to bury you, don't ever forget that." Severus sat down across from her, making a show of leaning back and cross his legs. "Now, why don't you tell me about this obsessive need of yours to defame Hermione Granger? Whatever did the Gryffindor Princess do to you?"

Rita's eyes fairly snapped with fury. "That little bitch had the NERVE to keep me in a JAR for months! ME!" she bit out, rage twisting her features.

"And therein lies her mistake; she should never have let you out. I know I wouldn't," Severus' voice was deceptively mild. "After the filth you printed about her that year, you're eternally lucky that's all she did. Did you know your trash prompted grown witches all over Britain to send that poor fifteen year old girl hate mail, one of the letters was full of undiluted bubotuber puss, and she burned her hands on it. But you've never cared for the fallout from your fabrications, have you Rita? Never taken responsibility for the lives you destroy, so long as it helps your precious career."

Rita swallowed, shifting nervously in her chair.

"Your vendetta against the girl ends tonight, or I promise that you'll learn what it feels like to be at the receiving end of public discontent, with every sordid detail of your life splashed in full colour across the pages of the Prophet. The difference will be that none of it will be untrue. Where should I start, mmm? Perhaps with how you cheated on your NEWTs?"

"Come now Severus…you wouldn't…." She paled. "There's no way to prove it."

"That's the funny thing about the written word, isn't it? You can twist the facts any which way to make something appear true. It wouldn't take much. The illegal use of Liquid Luck is only the tip of the ice burg, and we both know it. Your hands are far from clean Rita, and the number of people you're blackmailing would only be too happy to help me in destroying you." He stood and fixed her with a hard look. "Leave her be Rita, this is the only warning I will give you. Find a new target for your vitriol, or better yet try writing about something real." He tossed her wand over to her. "Now, you're going to swear a wand oath. So….repeat after me."

Rita wanted to hex that smug expression off his face, but managed to reign her fury in. "Very well."

"Swear upon your magic to never write or speak ill of Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, or Severus Snape again." He prompted her.

"You bastard…" She repeated the oath from between ground teeth. "I swear, on my magic, to never write or speak ill of Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, or Severus Snape again. So mote it be," she all but hissed it out. In response to her oath, the tip of her wand flared and sealed the magic.

"Have a pleasant evening Miss Skeeter." Severus drawled and sauntered out her door, chuckling to himself as he heard the sound of breaking china. Temper tantrums in a grown witch were just so undignified.