AN: Oh my god. I've been trying to get this baby (and the next one!) posted all day but ffn was down. Sad times!

Though it is now technically not Christmas anymore here, I hope you all had a good one.

I've just had some upsetting personal news. Nothing life altering, but for me... very intense. I won't go into the details but let's just say I'm... not ok atm. I will be though. Writing is usually my outlet and so I do intend to keep updating, but I can't guarantee that I'll be as diligent for a few days. Please don't hate me for it.

You're all lovely, lovely, you hear! Here's the morning after. :)

Chapter 28: Tuesday morning

He'd been awake for a while, but hadn't moved even if his arm was now completely numb. She looked at ease and he would not disturb her peace. He had passed the time observing. He had committed her gentle breathing to his memory, and her messy hair in tangles on her pillow would forever be in his mind's eye. As she continued to doze, his hands lazily they drifted back and forth over her arm. Her skin was soft and warm. As his fingertips caressed, he felt the raised skin. The scar. He'd known it was there, even if she kept it meticulously covered at all times. He briefly considered his own markings and the faded tattoo on his forearm. It was barely visible now. Her abrasions were healed but still looked raw and inflamed, and as ugly as the word they spelled out. He would see if he could increase the potency of the balm Poppy kept for such lesions. Perhaps Ashwinder eggs-

"Good morning." Her eyes had opened and she was looking at him curiously.

"Morning." He gently pulled his arm out from under her and his fingers tingled as blood flowed through them again. He rolled onto his side and placed a small peck on her forehead. She shook her head.

"That won't do," she complained. She put her hands on his face, her palms just under his jaws and her fingers on his cheeks, then pulled his lips to hers for a languid, delicious kiss.

"I see," he nodded and put his hands on her face and pulled her in in turn. She released a quiet moan and he grinned. "Better?"

"Much," she nodded her approval.

"As much as I'd love to do this with you all day, Hermione, we'll have to get up eventually."

"We've got time."

"Not much. I have a class."

"When?"

"Nine."

She picked her watch up from the nightstand, checked it and giggled softly.

"You're late, professor."

"Crap! How late?" he demanded urgently as he shot up. His eyes scanned the floor for his clothing and he was quickly up on his feet collecting the garments.

"About 15 minu-"

"Crap!"

"Language, Severus!" she grinned and sat up, watching his desperate sweeping of the room with mirth. Why couldn't he find his pants? He had his trousers in his hand, but where were his pants? He asked her. She accio'd them for him and they flew out from under the bed. He pulled the black cotton briefs on and danced around the room, swearing continuously as he squirmed into his trousers.

"There's a sock on the bookshelf. No, further to the left," she helped.

"Crap crap crap!" he continued, collecting said sock and wriggling his foot into it. He finished dressing in panicked haste. Second sock, shirt, frock coat, teaching robes. He looked at Hermione who was still sat on the bed and now laughing her head off at him. Oh bugger. Shoes! He needed his shoes.

"Gods, I'm sorry about this, but-" Ah, there they were! He hopped around the room on one leg as he pulled the first shoe on.

She chortled at his hopping. "Will I see you at lunch?" she asked between bursts of laughter.

"My rooms," he agreed and shoved his second shoe on, repeating the hopping.

She just waved at the door for him to leave and rolled on the bed, holding her stomach as she snorted and wheezed. Well, at least she'd enjoyed that, he thought as he rushed down the corridors.