Severus looked around the room and sighed. "Jemma!" he called. The little house elf popped into the room, looked around and her mouth dropped open. "Oh my!"
Severus cleared his throat. "Jemma, I need you to bring me two hangover potions from my private cabinet, and could you please clean up this mess?" He asked the little creature.
Jemma nodded and with a click of her fingers, was gone. While the elf gathered the extra-strength hangover potions (that Severus often brewed for the mornings after a party held at Malfoy Manor), Severus wandered over to Ginny Weasley's form. The girl who'd been slobbering after his godson was now in a heap, snoring and drooling. He sighed in slight disgust as he picked her up and propped her onto the couch, grimacing in dismay as her strawberry-ice-cream-coated hair wore off onto his coat. He flicked a quick scourgify at the offending mess, both in the young woman's hair and on his coat to clean them. He covered the girl with a blanket from the back of the couch, knowing the stupefied girl would wake on her own in a while, though with a hellacious headache. Then he turned to look at his other problem.
Hermione had fallen asleep curled up in the chair, her legs tucked under her, almost kittenish in how she slept. Her chin was propped up on her hand, her hair tumbling around her face and shoulders in springy, satiny, deep brunette curls Small dark circles had begun to form under her eyes, and her lips were a natural pale rose. Her dark blue robes were wrinkled and there was a rather large red stain on the chest area, where he assumed she had spilt her glass of wine.
He sighed and walked over to her, shaking her shoulder gently. "Miss Granger? Hermione? Wake up," he said quietly. She stirred a little, her eyes opening half-mast to look groggily at him. "Sev'us?"
"Yes, Hermione. Come on, let's get you to bed," he said and helped her up out of the chair. He wasn't at all surprised when she tripped over her own feet and landed in his arms. "Merlin help me," he sighed and used a quick feather-light charm on the little witch before scooping her up into his arms and carrying her into the door that led to her quarters. Just before he entered, Jemma returned, and he nodded at the little elf as she began to clean and scrub the room, removing any traces of the "girl's night."
When Severus pushed opened the doors to Hermione's bedroom, he was quite surprised not to see a room covered with the red and gold of Gryffindor's Princess. Instead, it was done in cream and robin's-egg-blue. It was beautifully done and quite soothing, if he said so himself. The furniture was simple, but elegant, done in pine with a white-wash finish. A large canopied four-poster bed took center stage, with a clothes cupboard against the wall on one side of the bed. The other wall was taken up by shelves of books that he supposed held her very favorite books, and a white-wood-and-satin-cream-cushioned fainting couch was nestled into the corner. A fireplace was opposite the bed, shining warmth and a soft glowing light over the room, embellished by only a few candles here and there, except for the much brighter reading lamp on a table by the bedside and by the fainting couch. Though the furniture was a bit more feminine than he preferred, Severus admitted to himself that he found the room quite comfortable.
He sat Hermione on the edge of the bed and groaned when he realized that he couldn't let her sleep in those dirty robes. One of the things that Hermione took great pride in was clean robes and he was sure that the wine would permanently stain if he didn't get them to the house elves to clean immediately. "I'm going to Hell," he moaned to himself as he looked over the young witch, knowing he was going to have to undress her.
Trying to be as quick and efficient as possible, Severus hurried to undress Hermione, but found that a drunk young witchling was as hard to undress as an angry toddler. Her body was either held stiffly or completely boneless depending on whether he was trying to pull off a sleeve, or unbutton a cuff or front placket. He wrapped his arm around her back and lifted her, allowing the robes to slide off her onto the floor.
He groaned as her nearly-naked body, now clad in only a pair of white cotton panties and a plain white bra, was pressed against his body, which quickly responded to such stimuli, his dick growing hard in an instant. He closed his eyes and couldn't help himself from burying his face in her curls and taking a deep breath of her scent. He gasped and nearly dropped the poor woman when she sighed and wrapped her arms around him. She giggled and let out a small sigh, "Sev'us." before quieting again.
"Yep, definitely going to Hell," he whispered as he sat her back down on the edge of the bed, her upper body flopping to the side, her head on the pillow. He tossed the blue robes into the hamper where they disappeared, into the waiting hands of the Hogwarts laundry elves.
He turned to her wardrobe and opened it, flicking through her daily work robes and found a pile of folded long-sleeved cotton nightgowns. He plucked one from the shelf and shut the doors, sighing in relief. As he turned back to his former student, all he could see was one very grown up witch, who now had a hand tucked under her head, her lips slightly parted and her hair wild around her pillow. He didn't want to move her, but he sitll had to put something on her to decently cover her.
He lifted her upper body, readying her to put on the gown, but realized she still had hr bra on. Now, as a man, he wasn't entirely sure how uncomfortable wearing one of those devices must be, but he'd heard often enough in embarrassingly overheard conversations from the other professors, or his young students, and hell, even Narcissa at some point, that they were "torture devices." He honestly felt he could not leave Hermione in such an uncomfortable article of clothing.
His grumble of irritation soon became a moan as his fingertips quickly unfastened the hooks in the back of the bra, and as they slipped down her arms and (yes, he admitted it, allowed them to) ran across the sides of her breasts in the lightest of touches (he was a man, after all!), he had to clench his jaw not to take it any further than that. But he admitted, if only to himself, that she had a gorgeous pair of tits, tipped with coral-pink nipples that he wanted to suck on until she came undone underneath him.
Considering that by this point, his dick was hard enough to pound through concrete, he hurriedly dressed her and helped her into bed. He pulled the robin's egg blue satin comforter to her chin and turned to leave. He closed his eyes in irritation and defeat when her arm reached out and grasped his wrist. "Stay, Severus. Please? Please stay?" she whispered, with a yawn.
He turned to look at her, her cinnamon colored eyes sleepy and only half open. "Definitely, definitely going to Hell!" he whispered under his breath as he released a sigh and toed off his boots, tossed aside his frock coat and traveling robes, he unbuttoned the shirt cuffs and the top two buttons of his shirt in order to be more comfortable before he slid into the bed beside her, something that had become routine for the two of them over the last few weeks as she had been training. Of course, most of the time, those evenings started out with her sleeping as a kitten in his bed and ending up as her regular self during the night, and not the other way around, starting with her as her own self. Heaven forbid she wake up as a kitten in the morning, Severus thought to himself with a chuckle.
"What's funny?" she asked with a yawn.
"Nothing, go to sleep, Hermione. You're going to have an awful headache in the morning."
"Severus?" she asked, with a giggle, obviously still quite tipsy.
He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Hermione?"
"Ginny said something funny, and asked me if I knew or not, and I didn't know what to tell her," she said, giggling again.
"And what did the spectacularly drunk Miss Weasley ask?" he asked, certain he didn't want to truly know, but somewhat intrigued as well.
"She wanted to know if you had a big cock!" Hermione giggled.
Severus sputtered for a minute, completely at a loss. "She what!?" he asked.
His only response was a loud snore from his bedmate. He groaned and facepalmed. What a nightmare. He looked over at the little witch in the bed with him and shook his head in wonder. "Good night, Hermione," he whispered, as he closed his eyes and let sleep drag him into it's depths.