Disclaimer: This story will really focus on the three professors. Not so much on The Boy That Lived, The Red Headed Boy in his Maroon Sweater & The Girl That Knows It all.


As the portrait swung open, the Potions Master of Hogwarts entered the room. Severus Snape looked his usual cool, aloof self, but Filius recognized from various minute yet telltale magical disturbances that the boy had gone to the considerable trouble of creating a powerful Glamour. As always the Ravenclaw House Head put two and two together to produce a far greater sum.

"Minerva, the boy's beenCruciated tonight. Multiple times; if I'm guessing correctly. Quickly now, Minerva, get some chocolate for the boy," he whispered, not wanting Snape to overhear. In a louder voice, he heartedly greeted Snape.

"Severus, welcome. Please take a seat and let me pour you some punch."

Snape nodded his head in acknowledgement of the greeting, dutifully presented Filius with a potion for his legendary lumbago, and the Potions Master walked… no he limped toward the heavy chair. The Slytherin stopped before it, gave it a look full of disgust complete with the obligatory arched eyebrow before he turned to face Minerva.

"Your chambers haven't changed much since I was last here, Filius," drawled Snape. "But this chair, while new, is a little too ostentatious for one of your sophisticated taste. Therefore, I must thank Professor McGonagall for it. Filius, I am grateful to you for the cushion."

At least Minerva had the good graces to look embarrassed that Severus had caught her being snarky. She waved her wand, and the chair turned into another soft, comfortable couch with copious amounts of green pillows and a silver throw.

"Take the Glamour off, Severus," Filius prompted as he handed Severus a cup of punch. "You're among people you can trust."

"That obvious?" Snape asked. His low voice seemed slower than his norm.

"Among those that know you as well as I do, yes," Filius admitted. "You don't have the energy to keep your Glamour up for long, so just take it down, Snape."

"Damn the sharp eyes of Ravenclaw," Snape growled. His voice lacked his normal acidity, as though he was just pretending to be annoyed, or he was far too exhausted to even summon the needed energy to be irritated.

"Damn the Secretive Slytherin who thinks he can evade notice by his friends by being sly," Filius retorted before laughing, as this was a familiar exchange between the two of them, and he motioned for the Slytherin to sit down.

Perhaps what happened next was Snape sitting down, but it was more of a physical collapse, causing punch, lumbago potion and chocolate to almost land on top of the Potions Master. With some quick wand work, Flitwick had the various items floating in the air, even as he grabbed Snape's head and pulled it toward his face.

"Your scleras are bloody," hissed Flitwick. "Were you Cruciated tonight? Don't deny it, you're showing all the symptoms. Bilateral subconjunctival hemorrhages, you're in obvious physical pain and weaker than a first year. Glamouring? Who are you trying to impress? Why the bloody hell did you do a Glamour for, lad?"

Severus growled in real annoyance when Flitwick called him, "lad".

While Flitwick technically wasn't a member of the Order of the Phoenix, he was quite familiar with Snape's role as a triple agent, and why Snape had most likely been Cruciated. The two men had developed a strange bond as Albus had highly encouraged the much older Flitwick to mentor the young man through Snape's first few years of teaching at Hogwarts. Snape had a twisted relationship with Albus. He loved, trusted, worshipped and feared the older man as an authority figure but the easy going, diminutive Charms Instructor was quite likely Snape's only friend at Hogwarts.

"I had a bloody meeting to attend. Called by one Filius Flitwick, and one for which I'm several hours late because I had another meeting by one very Pissed off Dark Lord… I didn't think I'd ever make this meeting if Umbridge took one look at me and realized that I'd been Cruciated."

Snape opened his mouth to roar some more, and Minerva popped a large piece of chocolate into his mouth.

"Eat," she regally demanded. "Then drink. I'll get you real food after you finished the chocolate."


He ate enough chocolate to have all his little Slytherins in a veritable frenzy from a sugar overdose before Minerva would allow him to drink. The chocolate had worked its magic and revived him to half way human status. The warmth had spread through out his body even to his toes and fingers, replacing the bitter chill of being cursed. Severus would have been quite happy just to fall asleep on the couch. Naturally, due to his luck, it was not to be.

"Your color is better. Your eyes still look like you've been on a pub crawl of legendary proportions," she snapped.

He could hear the concern for him in the witch's voice, and therefore a truthfully, very touched Snape acknowledged it the only way he knew how.

"Trust a Scot to know," he retorted.

She glared at him, her eyebrow arched in the distinctive manner that said he had pushed her buttons. And Point for Severus, he cheerily thought as he marked his mental chalkboard.

"Drink your punch," she ordered, regal as Elizabeth, Queen of the Muggles.

Severus managed a gulp and then he nearly spit it up in record time. Punch? It was more like a kick to the groin by an angry mule.

"Bloody, bloody hell. What the hell is in this?" He spat. "You don't usually serve this."

"Pomona's Punch. It's the Fat Friar's personal recipe. He's been working on it for the last thousand years or so," Filius explained. "Since this is an unplanned meeting, Pomona makes her punch for us. Drink up! We've got plenty as these meetings are usually long."

Bloody hell.

The two senior House Heads had tricked him.

Being the youngest and newest of the House Heads, Severus had often found himself the brunt of various distinctively odd customs. Sometimes he had been warned about them in advance, more often that not, it was gentle, kind-hearted Filius Flitwick, universally proclaimed and admired as the most honest and sincere person currently at Hogwarts, be it alive, dead or in the half-way state combining both, who scammed him by announcing in mid-meeting about some obscure custom that required Severus' immediate attention. By all rights, he should be royally pissed at how easily Flitwick conned him, but Snape couldn't do much more than half-heartedly growl at the Charms Instructor, not when Flitwick wore such a delighted grin at catching him. Plus unlike Gryffindor's young lion cubs, Flitwick's jokes did him no physical harm, and Flitwick was the first to laugh when the gags were on him.

The first official meeting of the House Heads had found him juggling his lumbago potion for Flitwick, a complicated botanical potion for Pomona and Merlin save him from the embarrassment, a tincture of potent catnip for Minerva. That had been Dumbledore's hoax, as Albus had pulled him into his office for a brief meeting to find out how he was settling in as a Professor, and by the way, did he realize that as the newest House Head, he was required to bring potions to the next meeting for all the House Heads so they could sample his skill?

The lumbago potion for Felix had been easy. Pomona's Plant potion had required a bit more thought but Minerva? He had been in an internal state of near panic because he couldn't think of what potion she'd want and he had less than two hours to prepare it. The intoxicating tincture of catnip had been a moment of supreme desperation, as it combined alcohol and catnip. She was a bloody Scottish animagus, so drinking catnip infused liquor hadn't seemed that farfetched an idea.

While not a farfetched idea, it hadn't been one of his better ones; Minerva had been hung over for almost a full week at the start of the term, as she had heartily imbibed the brew. No hang over potion known to magic kind had been able to alleviate her discomfort, and Merlin knew he had been busy inventing a few new ones during that week. Snape would admit to no one that one of the scariest experiences of his life was when Minerva had caught him in a dark corridor late one night to warn him to never to brew "That poison" again.

"Keep drinking, lad. You'll need a belly full of Dutch courage by the time we get you up to speed," Flitwick advised.

As Flitwick began to explain about his dark fears of Umbridge and what she was planning on doing, Severus Snape took another sip of Pomona's potent punch. He was so stunned by the fact that Filius Flitwick was proposing a full scale rebellion that he didn't even choke on the liquor. No, this time the punch went down so nice and smooth that he quickly drained the cup. Without even noticing that the cup was refilling itself, he drank another cup.

Bloody hell, the Dark Lord and Filius Flitwick both wanted to sow chaos at Hogwarts. How the hell was he supposed to juggle everything and stay alive?

But this little misadventure proved one thing that Severus Snape had long suspected; Filius Flitwick was a closet anarchist.


To Minerva's surprise, the Potions Master seemed somewhat amused by their decision to quietly challenge Umbridge at every chance. Then again, his less than dour demeanor might be related to the fact that the boy was on his third cup of punch in twenty minutes.

Careful, Severus. One Cup, Two Cups, Three Cups, FLOOR.

"The idea is that the three of us will do what we can to negate her influence as much as possible," Flitwick stated. "We have to protect the students. Are you agreed?"

"Yes," Severus agreed.

"Pomona will be here shortly, so we can discuss it further," Minerva explained.

Severus laughed. The chuckling was an odd sound from the Potions Master, and so both she and Flitwick turned to look at Snape.

"I've always thought that this school was always one step away from complete and utter chaos. If the student body really wanted to, they'd have all the professors locked away in our chambers, begging for their mercy. Are you really sure you want to unleash that?" Severus questioned.

"The Ministry doesn't want the students learning defensive spells," Minerva explained. "They're learning THEORY, Severus. When the fight comes, they'll be slaughtered."

"I know. It's just the thought of completely unleashing the Weasley Twins… is there anyway you could possibly maintain some control over them? One assumes that we do want the castle standing after Umbridge is gone," Snape drawled.

He took another swallow of the punch, no doubt enjoying the warm, mellow feeling it produced and shook his head. "This isn't that bad actually."


Pomona was late; the punch was flowing freely, so by the time they held their meeting, everyone… well… Flitwick, Severus and she were distinctively pissed. Ok… maybe paralytic was closer to the truth, but Severus was making dry quips, Flitwick was in tears from laughing so hard, and she was giggling herself. Her laughter made the normally reticent but thoroughly plastered Severus Snape gregarious and soon she too was crying from laughing too hard. His dry impersonation of one of his less than stellar students blowing up his cauldron and destroying half the potions lab had her holding onto the couch to support her.

Pomona, being the lone sober adult in the group, naturally decided to close the bar the minute she walked into Flitwick's chambers and found the group doing an impromptu version of the unbearable and interminable school song. It didn't work, as Severus almost immediately began pouring that damnable tincture of catnip he had made for her into her cup. To be honest, Minerva DID ask him if he had any on him; Minerva just hadn't expected him to be able to produce some on demand. Snape sloshed it a bit while he poured, but Flitwick was so busy pouring some dark liquor into Severus' own glass that he didn't notice the mess.

Before long, Pomona had given up on her futile attempts at sobering the delinquents. In fact, Minerva would have sworn an oath, except for the fact that she was drinking Snape's extraordinary catnip liquor that did such strange things to her head, that Pomona was busy refilling Flitwick's cup whenever the diminutive Charms Master's back was turned.

"So, I'll talk to the portraits," Flitwick announced. "Severus… you talk to the Ghost Council."

"I'll ask the Bloody Barron to have Peeves report to you, Minerva," Snape decided. His face quirked into what some could construe as a slight smile before returning to his normal serious mien. "I'm sure you can keep the Weasley twins and Peeves under control. I have the utmost faith in Gryffindor House."

The Slytherin raised his glass to her in a sardonic salute, drank the contents in one fell swoop, and softly laughed. Flitwick gestured and Severus' glass refilled without the Potions Master being none the wiser.

"Anything from my greenhouses is yours," Pomona offered. "But you three will be leading this charge. I'll remain in the background. I wish I could stand with you on this… but someone must be here just in case. But know I support you completely."

"This calls for a toast," Flitwick announced. He gestured with his wand and a tray bearing four shot glasses and a sapphire colored bottle of liquid appeared. The Ravenclaw Head poured the liquor and handed the cups to each instructor.

"To the unholy trinity," the Slytherin toasted, his glass raised.

"The unholy Triumvirate is more like it!" Flitwick squeaked as he raised his own cup.

"The unholy threesome…" Minerva toasted.

"To Hogwarts, Albus and to the pithing of a Toad!" Pomona cheered.

They clicked their cups together, spilling not a drop. Then they quickly quaffed their drinks, and Flitwick refilled their glasses once more with Pomona refusing, claiming that at least one of the House Heads needed to be sober.

"We should meet again, and soon," Pomona prompted. "Monday night?"

"The dungeon?" Minerva suggested. "She doesn't like it down there. Claims it's musty. Can you handle the dampness, Flitwick?"

The Charms Master said that he'd be fine even as Severus protested in vain that his dungeon wasn't damp and it certainly wasn't musty. They agreed on a time, and then Pomona left after hugging and kissing Minerva. The Herbology instructor stopped to talk to Rowena on the portrait covering the exit, and the two women had a long, quiet chat before Pomona exited.

The three remaining instructors shared a long companionable silence with yet still more liquor involved before the nowhere near as sharp as he normally was Flitwick noticed Rowena Ravenclaw had abandoned her portrait for places unknown.

"Does anyone know where Rowena Ravenclaw is? She's not on the portrait which means you can't leave the room."

Oh Merlin's dirty knickers, they were trapped in Filius' chambers. Flooing back to their quarters was out of the question, as Umbridge was rumored to have the Floos under monitor.

Professor… why did you Floo back to your quarters at one in the morning?

Because Rowena Ravenclaw thought I was too drunk to be let loose in the corridors at night. Damnable woman always did have an exaggerated expectation of what was proper behavior for Hogwarts Instructors.

"It appears that Pomona and Ravena have decided that you two need to sober up before you leave the room," giggled Flitwick.

"And all this time I thought Helga Hufflepuff was the motherly one," snarked Severus.


Snape was dozing in a blissful, drowsy state of warm contentedness when Minerva woke him by imperiously tapped him on the shoulder. She put her finger over his lips so he wouldn't complain before she leaned over to whisper in his ear.

"Filius is almost sleeping. Can you pick him up and put him to bed? He'll never be able to walk tomorrow if he sleeps in the chair. Honestly, I believe that I'm too drunk to use my wand."

He must be dreaming, as there was no way the Bastion of Values at Hogwarts would be so utterly pissing drunk that she was worried about using her wand.

"Warn Rowena what we're doing. I don't want his eagle coming after me," he whispered in return.

"Done."

He nodded his acceptance. The Potions Master tried to be careful and quiet, but with Minerva's drunken hindrance…help… Snape, in next to no time, was carrying the Charms instructor from his chair to his bed, with the deliberate, careful actions of one trying to prove that he wasn't as drunk as he truly was. When he entered Filius' large and airy bed chamber, Flitwick's Golden Eagle reproachfully glared at him, blaming him for her Master's unconsciousness state until Flitwick murmured a sleepy comment.

'I've had Rowena for a long time," Filius explained groggily and a tad bit unnecessarily. "She's a bit protective."

"No harm done," Minerva commented as she turned down the wizard's bed, even while Severus arched his eyebrow at her.

Easy for the witch to say, Rowena would have gone after HIM, not HER. Naturally, Minerva ignored his silent reproach.

Carefully, he put the Charms Master down on the edge of the bed so he was sitting. Minerva knelt before him, and helped Flitwick take off his shoes and jacket. After he was unvested of his jacket and shoes, Minerva helped tuck him into bed.

"Good night, Filius," Minerva whispered. She leaned over and kissed him on his cheek. The Charms Master smiled and whispered something in her ear. The witch murmured something in return and then squeezed Flitwick's small hand.

Minerva chuckled even as she stood up. The witch then evilly smiled when she saw the look on his face.

"Don't tell me, Filius was whispering sweet nothings?" Snape dryly questioned.

"No…" she softly laughed and shook her head. Motioning for him to join her, she left Filius' bedroom with a highly exaggerated attempt at walking quietly and then softly closed the door.

Her amusement was making him a tad bit jealous, so naturally, Severus had to find out what Filius had said to have Minerva McGonagall grinning like a cat presented with a vat full of cream and a bucket of catnip. Yes, he didn't have a chance in hell with Minerva… but he still wanted to know.

"Let me guess… our dear Charms Instructor Filius was… propositioning… you."

Now that the door was closed, Minerva broke out into laughter. He must have stared at her like a pole axed first year face to face with an angry Albus Dumbledore, when she conspiratorially whispered in his ear, "No, lad, that particular fire has been out for a long time now."

That tidbit shocked him. It really did. The very idea of the diminutive Flitwick and statuesque Minerva… Shagging!

He knew about Dumbledore and McGonagall, a brief and thankfully extremely discreet flowering of affection that had lasted for several terms. Albus had discussed the situation with him before his and Minerva's relationship had turned serious, not wishing to cause him emotional distress when the news of their affair broke. How could he protest it? Snape had brusquely reminded Albus that he had no claim to Minerva. But Albus had again asked him for his sanction before proceeding further, and Severus had given it, requesting only that Albus not flaunt his relationship with Minerva in front of him.

Best left unmentioned to all concerned was his warning to Albus that he'd kill the man if he hurt Minerva.

Severus had been truly delighted that the liaison had done them both good. His Master had smiled more and Minerva's eyes had sparkled.

If Albus's liaison with Minerva gave them both joy; how could he not approve?

But FLITWICK?!?!?!

Who else had been lucky enough to dally with Minerva?

Kettleburn – before or after his loss of limb?

Binns?

Moody?

The damnable Lupin?

Dear Merlin… no… not… Hagrid. He refused to even think about Hagrid and Minerva… though he did witness Hagrid plastering a kiss on Minerva during one Christmas break. Minerva had blushed but she also had not hexed Hagrid into the next century.

"It was fun while it lasted though," Minerva admitted. "He's brilliant, Severus. Plus you know what they say; it's not the size of the wizard's wand…"

He wouldn't finish the quip… but his drunken mind helpfully added, "But the way the way the wizard flicks it…"

The Transfiguration Master then leaned against the wall, and rubbed her head.

"Dear Merlin, help me. I'm leading a rebellion against the Ministry of Magic and I can't believe I drank your poison brew… willingly. Now I'm telling you about my old flames. Merlin's bloody beard! How drunk am I?" Minerva whispered that, before she unsteadily pointed to her left. "Filius actually said there's a bedroom down the hallway and reminded me not to attempt to resize the couches as he worries that I'm too intoxicated to do so."

Severus had to agree that Flitwick was correct about Minerva's lack of sobriety. Minerva had been imbibing Pomona's Punch before he arrived, and after his arrival, she had matched him drink for drink. Truthfully, he was quite impressed that she was still upright, as he never would have thought the witch possessed the capacity. Accuracy demanded that Snape admit that the witch was leaning, but since he was at a distinct tilt also, Minerva looked like she was standing upright.

It was just the hallway that was at the odd angle.

While he was trying to figure out if that deeply profound thought even made sense, his subconscious decided to remind him about the really important issues.

Bedroom… not bedrooms.

Damn it to hell, Flitwick must have charmed the space from his third bedroom into his personal library. Snape hurt like he'd been bludgeoned, and it would be a long night on a couch too short for him to stretch his long legs. Tomorrow, he'd be lucky to be able to crawl to his chambers.

Mental note to self. Next time I have an all night drinking session… err… sorry… an unscheduled meeting of the House Heads after being cursed repeatedly by the Dark Lord, I will remember to bring enough sober 'em up potions, anti-hangover potions and pain relief potions for everyone.

Or at least… ENOUGH FOR ME.

"I'll take the couch," he stated even as Minerva decided the same thing.

"You look like hell, Severus," Minerva explained.

Gryffindor was always the speaker of the Painfully Obvious.

"I'm perfectly fine."

He put his foot down, in fact, both his feet down. Because he was Slytherin, he was stubborn and insistent combined with a gallant nature. No, he was not chauvinistic as the witch loudly declared him to be. His steadfast refusal to let the older Minerva sleep on the couch ensured that Slytherin House rather than Gryffindor reigned triumphant in the battle of Which Potted Professor got Stuck on the Couch that was Too Short on Which to Sleep Unless You were FlitwickSized.

McGonagall and he would share the emperor sized bed.

Nothing would take place as they both vowed that they were both too bloody potted to do anything.

He was such a liar.

Nothing would occur, as he knew what the fallout would be on the morning after. Minerva would be horrified, and their tentative amity would be shattered beyond repair.

Tonight, he had caused her to laugh several times. How could he even think to ruin those happy moments?

But they'd go to bed only after they ensured the safety of their fellow House Heads by drinking every ounce of liquor left on the table. His tired mind timorously suggested that perhaps that idea wasn't quite the noble proposal the two drunks thought it was. In fact, his subconscious prompted, the idea was probably pretty damn reckless.

Damn shame he didn't listen to that still, quiet voice.


Severus Snape gingerly sat on the edge of the bed, and he stared at his shoes as though he had never seen them before. Actually, Minerva thought, perhaps the boy was trying to figure out the best way to remove them that didn't involve him falling out of the bed and landing on his distinctive nose.

By Godric Gryffindor's bloody sword, she needed to stop treating the boy like he was a student. He was a professor at Hogwarts. An ill-mannered, more than a bit of a grouch, but still… a professor. She firmly vowed to do that, first thing after she woke, but for now, she was knelt before him and removed his shoes.

He had been cursed, after all, and his joints had begun to stiffen. The Slytherin's black shoes removed, she assisted him out of his long black jacket, leaving him clad only in his dark pants and white shirt. The witch carefully removed his black cravat from the Slytherin's neck. His clothes were neatly folded and placed on a chair. She then sat on the bed next to the dark haired wizard, the mattress shifting slightly under their combined weights.

"Thank you," Severus whispered. "I don't think I could have handled that with any sort of grace."

"Thanks for putting Filius to bed. I could not have lifted him," Minerva softly admitted. "Also… thank you for showing up tonight. Filius said you would, but I must confess that I had my doubts."

"I promised you that I'd attend," was all he said, but Minerva felt him emotionally withdraw from her.

Damn it, she cursed herself. Tonight, he actually unbent long enough for her to see a different side of him, and now he's retreating behind his iron walls. Being Gryffindor down to her toes, she gathered her gumption and kissed Severus on the cheek. Hopefully,he'd accept it for the apology it was meant to be.

The boy physically recoiled and seemed startled, as he put his hand to cheek. His astonishment was too tempting an opportunity to miss heaping additional amazement on the lad, so she hastily kissed him on his other cheek. Quick witted Severus Snape, the man with a caustic wit quicker than Flitwick's wand was absolutely thunderstruck.

And two points to Gryffindor, she thought merrily. Then because she was too loaded to even think about a strategic retreat Minerva decided to completely win the war.

"Good night, Severus. Would you like me to tuck you into bed?"

As the witch has assumed correctly, the Slytherin wizard haughtily refused to be tucked into bed like a little homesick Hufflepuff first year. Even as he was snarkily protesting, Minerva tried not to smile. The witch had noticed that the boy was truly exhausted, as his scathing tirade didn't have its usual strength, acidity and volume. Yes, the boy was putting on quite the performance.

Is this the Severus Snape that Flitwick knows?

"Pivot," she brusquely ordered, as she picked up his long legs. It took some time, assorted muffled curses from Severus, who apparently retained enough fear of his former professor so as not to want to openly swear in front of her but before long the boy was resting on his side in the bed, and yes, she tucked him in.

"Minerva…." The boy's voice was soft, and she leaned over to hear him. "I'm… tired… far more tired and considerably drunker than I realized… I want to warn you that I might…not be able to keep my wards up."

It took her a little bit for her to comprehend what he was trying to say. Compassion filled her, and she gently stroked his cheek.

"I know you have nightmares, lad. You're not the first man with whom I've shared a bed. And yes, a few of them had night terrors. One of them could only sleep if he warded the room and kept a lamp lit." She didn't mention who it was, though Severus knew him.

"Flitwick…" Severus whispered. "He warned me when I stayed with him. He's a… good man…"

The Slytherin softly stressed the word as though he believed that she'd disagreed.

Albus, all those years ago, I thought you were quite utterly mad, placing your barely tamed Death Eater under mild Filius' care. Severus saw you as his Master then, and was far too willing to accept the rule of servant. We argued about your decision, as I believed Severus was emotionally damaged and too mentally unstable for Filius to handle.

You informed me that the smartest way to handle Severus then was to give his supervision over to Filius, a man who had experienced his own traumas, survived and who refused to be any man's Master or Servant. I don't know what the hell happened between those two, but your unorthodox arrangement seems to have worked. The boy has more than a modicum of respect for Filius, and Filius is the only one that will willingly converse with the boy even when Snape is in the darkest of moods.

"That he is, lad, one of the best," agreed Minerva. "I'm sure Flitwick has his Dream Catcher wards enabled in this room. You should be able to sleep without any bad dreams. Pleasant dreams, Severus."

The boy didn't answer her; his soft slow breathing implied he was close to slumber. The witch sighed quietly as she walked to her side of the bed. There was a mirror next to the bed, so she concentrated on her reflection intently, trying to change her clothes into something a little more comfortable for sleeping. It took a few minutes, a few assorted curses, but soon she was wearing a long silky shirt and pants. She hadn't done too badly, considering she was SWSI, spellcasting while severely intoxicated; though it didn't look like she was wearing the McGonagall plaid. No... it was more... a mixture of colors that made her stomach queasy and her head hurt.

Or... maybe that was Severus' damnable catnip liquor.

What an evil, twisted mind the lad possessed to create that combination.

Minerva knew that she shouldn't have threatened him that one night, but she had been in a world of hurt because of him. Ok, she had been in a world of hurt because she had overindulged.

Finally she collapsed into the bed, her back firmly facing Severus' back with a thoroughly respectable, complete chaste distance between them. That was the last thing she remembered.


When Minerva woke up, she didn't remember where she was and how she had gotten there. Her head was pounding, and there was someone curled up next to her. Whomever it was, had one arm around her middle and he... she... it... them... was breathing softly in her ears.

Having experienced one too many one night stands as the results of drinking a wee bit too much, Minerva immediately checked her ring fingers. No wedding ring. It had happened once, though Mad Eye was being a daft prat when he had conjured one. She had nearly murdered him when he revealed that they hadn't gotten married, just totally blitzed and had spent a lovely night together.

Definitely wasn't Mad Eye next to her. Mad Eye never slept when anyone shared his bed, and his arm wouldn't be around her. That arm would be cradling his staff, ready to defend them… Constant Vigilance was his motto, though Near Constant Shagging was pretty damn close.

She was clothed... another good sign. The arm holding her was wearing a full length white sleeve, so... perhaps this wasn't an experience that she'd need to tame in order to tell her Students "Why Witches and Wizards Shouldn't Drink to Excess". Minerva had told many a student body about her various encounters over the years and nobody would ever believe it was all first hand experience of the Not So Prim Deputy Headmistress Suitably Tamed Down for Underage Witches and Wizards.

Now. The question was... who owned the arm and the white shirt?

Could it be an old flame?

No. Flitwick wouldn't be curled up like this as he wasn't a snuggler. Yes, the limb was most assuredly NOT Filius'; because of his personal traumas of which he rarely spoke, Flitwick needed to be free from confinement when he slept, so he never cuddled. Plus the arm was far too long for Filius.

Remus would be sleeping on the floor, as he was a gentleman.

Well, except in bed.

But yes, if it was Remus, he would have seduced her, held and cuddled her until she slumbered, and then he would have slept on the floor, curled up at the front of the bed. Remus claimed he was a bit of a thrasher when he slept, and he was fearful of hurting her accidentally. The truth was that he had his own nightmares, and sometimes the dear boy whimpered and whined in his sleep like an injured pup. Minerva always cheerily assured Lupin on his bad nights that she had slept the night through and hadn't been disturbed. After all, they shagged a dozen or so good times thanks to his werewolf stamina, so the boy was heartbreakingly willing to pretend that it was quite possible that she was exhausted enough not to hear him.

And if it had been Remus Lupin, she'd be sleeping on the floor next to him, ready to gently console him during his bad dreams.

Hooch would have hogged the covers. No, this person shared, and she was pretty sure the arm was masculine.

Not Albus, as he took over the entire bed with his arms and legs sprawled just so which had been the absolute final straw in their relationship. Plus he had a slight snore, and she believed that this gentleman was clean shaved. No tickling of her ears from facial hairs.

So that knocked Hagrid out of the equation.

Thank Merlin!

Her mind continued prompting her with assorted names, and she went through the list.

Nope, certainly wasn't Umbridge as she didn't smell Eau de Toad.

Oh, Merlin's beard tied in knots and braided with multi colored ribbons, IT couldn't BE FILCH!???!?!?!

No. She didn't detect Mrs. Norris anywhere. By Morgan le Fay's black underwire bra, what type of man named his cat after the only woman he had ever shagged?

Vainly, she tried to remember who the other person in her bed might be. The dawn was breaking, so the room was gradually growing lighter. The room looked very familiar, another good sign that she hadn't picked up a complete stranger for a random lay. Flitwick, her mind prompted. She was in Flitwick's spare bedroom! That thought made her mentally cheer, until her aching head winced at the noise.

Filch wouldn't be allowed inside Flitwick's chambers. There was only a rarefied select few that ever made it past Rowena.

Most of the teachers, but not all. Pomfrey, yes…but for her to unbend enough to take a Friday night off?

Wait.

It was coming back to her. She and Filius had shared a bottle or three. Rowena had stormed off because she was a teetotaler and she refused to let the drunks out into the corridors where they might be seen by impressionable students. So the question remained who had she been drinking with?

Pomona. No... not Pomona's arm, plus the woman snored.

Drinking. Discussions on how to overthrow the Toad...Oh dear God... The name of the face attached to the white sleeved arm came back to her with a crack so loud; she was surprised it didn't wake up everyone in Hogwarts.

Severus Snape, former Death Eater, triple agent for the Order of the Phoenix, the man who had scared more first years into piddling on themselves than anyone else in the entire history of Hogwarts... was a snuggler!

And she knew damn well that he'd be horrified if that little tidbit was revealed. She must be still intoxicated, as Minerva McGonagall was tempted to laugh out loud at Severus Snape, Snuggle Bunny.

As though he heard her, Severus snuggled still closer to her, and he succeeded in pulling the covers over her.

And Minerva McGonagall wondered what trick she could pull on the Slytherin.

He'd be horrified when he woke and found himself in the arms of a GRYFFINDOR. This was a Hogwarts' Legend in the making, as Sprout and Hooch would love to hear all about the Slytherin's horror at the next Hogwarts Hens night. That is, if Severus didn't hex her into the next century.


Snape was dreaming, he knew that he was. There was a warm body next to his, and they were fitting together like a set of spoons. His hand was resting on something smooth and silky, and he could hear the soft sound of someone breathing. He cautiously opened his eyes, and realized that yes... there was someone in bed with him, and he wasn't sure who it was.

Where the bloody hell was he?

The room looked familiar, but not really.

It couldn't be a Dark Revel, as no woman willingly remained after all the festivities ended.

Well, except for Bellatrix Black Lestrange and he'd never bed that crazy bitch.

The room was too far big to be in Knockturn Alley, plus he never fell asleep with one of the girls. Whoever his bed partner was, she possessed dark hair, and so he performed a quick non-vocalized spell for fresh breath as his teeth felt furrier than Hagrid's face. Plus he did a quick Down, Boy! Spell for his various parts that were enjoying being this close to a female who wasn't screaming, wailing, crying or cursing.

Time to face the music. Should he kiss her? Wasn't that what ordinary witches and wizards did? Perhaps he should find out with who he was in bed before he worried about the morning after niceties. Snape could sense that the female was awake, and no doubt she was twisting the screw ever so slightly by waiting for him to make the first move.

Bloody hell! What the hell should he do? Whoever it was, he had slept easily, free from the nightmares that normally plagued and disrupted his sleep. The woman hadn't moved his hand away from her... so that seemed to suggest that they were friendly and it had been a consensual decision to end up in bed together. But who the hell was she?

Hesitantly, he leaned toward her ear.

"Morning..." Snape whispered. "Sleep well?"

There were no words to adequately describe how he felt when Minerva McGonagall, the woman of his dreams, the female he had placed on a marble pedestal far, far, above him, turned to him, and sniffed, "Sleep? We didn't sleep a blasted wink last night, Severus Snape."


Fortunately after being a Professor for far too many years at a school for beginning Witches and Wizards, Minerva had learned how to hold back her laughter. Severus Snape was obviously confused at finding the Head of Gryffindor House in his bed, and his glittering black eyes were staring at her in what could only be complete befuddlement.

"Severus, you were... incredible..." She informed the lad, trying not gush too badly. When pulling a prank, you had to be careful NOT to go too far.

The Slytherin turned a whiter shade of pale; which Minerva dutifully noted for future retelling of this tale. The pallor of his skin horrifically clashed with his jet black hair.

"I've had other lovers, but I've never had anyone like you before. So skilled! So energetic... so... so... insatiable!"

"We..." Severus paused... and he gestured wildly with one hand.

The boy was staring at her like she was insane.

"Shagged? Had sex? Fucked? Made wild passionate love? Yes. Repeatedly. You don't... remember...?" Minerva deliberately let her voice get a little emotional. "You told me that you loved me. You said that our intimacy would be special for you... because it was… me... It wasn't?"

Severus Snape was so obviously at a lost for words that she nearly laughed.

"Severus... you were so incredible! I never would have guessed it. You're always so reserved, but you were a wild man last night."

He was blushing. Yes, Severus Snape, the greasy haired git was blushing!

Maybe she was daft, as this joke unexpectedly wasn't as funny as she had hoped it would be. No, Minerva had expected him to angry protest the very idea that he had shagged a woman old enough to be his mother. Instead the boy was blushing, and Severus appeared truly at a loss for words.

"You... I... were intimate and...you ... didn't... get... angry?" Snape whispered that so softly that she almost didn't hear him.

"No..." She assured him. "Severus, how can a woman possibly get angry at a man when he says that he loves her?"

Severus Snape was a very odd color, and he rubbed his head. The lad's head must be pounding if it felt anything like hers.

"I confessed how I felt... and... you weren't... sickened?"

Then to her horror, her brain snapped into gear, five minutes too late to prevent this entire situation from happening.

YOU DOLT! HE THINKS YOU'RE SERIOUS! AND HE'S NOT PROTESTING!

Severus Snape deliberately... yet hesitantly kissed her on the mouth. It was a timid kiss, as though he expected her to push him away. She had snogged many a man and a few women in her time, and Minerva had never been kissed quite like this. It was the kiss of a young boy... all eagerness and fear... passion and inexperience.

When they broke apart, Snape was... oh dear Merlin no... no... the lad was looking at her so intently with his dark, black eyes. The shroud he used to hide the real Severus from her had disappeared, and the boy's heart was in his eyes.

Snape's feelings for me were what he was hiding all this time? Oh sweet, sweet Merlin, I never knew. I never would have guessed that the boy fancied me. Merlin, he looks so young and scared. Filius? Is this who he really is?

Having made one error, Minerva then proceeded to make another mistake. She laughed, not to hurt Severus, but to diffuse the situation, in the hopes of giving them both an easy escape from this embarrassing situation she had unwittingly created.

"Lad, you almost got me worried there," she shakily admitted. "But I know that you're just teasing me. You know full well that we weren't intimate last night, and you did not express your undying love for a woman old enough to be your mother."

For the briefest moment, the boy… no… the Potions Master looked as though she had slapped him hard. Her heart shattered as Minerva realized that she had deeply humiliated Severus.

But the instant didn't last for long because he pointed his wand at her and whispered, "Lacus Somniorum."

The bastard had hexed her.

The BASTARD had turned his wand on another instructor.