"Professor, do you think we.. uh.. you know.."
"NO!!", came the emphatic reply.
Hermione watched the potion master slide out of bed with as much dignity a naked man could possibly present, when leaving the bed occupied by his top of the class student. Snatching a pillow to cover his privates, he began searching through his apartment frantically. "Where are my blasted clothes.." he growled.. "we must have undressed somewhere!" he turned to look at the startled Hermione who was still sitting, petrified, underneath the bed covers; her eyes widened at his chosen words -- 'we must have undressed'.
"What are you doing just sitting there?", he snapped. "Help me find your clothes and get dressed!"
Observing him move about the room, exposed except for a shabby old pillow covering the essentials, she couldn't help but notice how he somewhat seemed less threatening. He always wore an excessive amount of fabric, black that neither enhanced or diminished his shape -- billowing cloaks and robes that made his figure seem somewhat larger. He was as lean as he was tall, and he stood at around six feet, give or take, his frame gaunt, his muscles toned, but possessed of a very pallid complexion.
"Get a move on!" he barked, which startled her into action, and she half leapt out of bed, still clinging to the covers with dear life, and ended up clumsily scrambling on the floor in a heap.
"Merlin, grant me patience.." he groaned, collecting a fresh set of wizarding robes from his closet, and entering the bathroom.
Hermione sat on the dark hard wood floor, and ran the current scenario through her mind a couple of times; snapping back to reality, she got up. Wrapping the bed clothes about her small frame like a toga, she carefully explored the room for anything that could resemble her school robes. She continued in this idle search until she heard the sound of running water coming from the bathroom.
She took a relieved breath, as this bought her some time; she began to take in the alien surroundings of Snape's chambers, struggling to come up with some sort of strategy to escape this even more alien scenario. The shock factor was diminishing, along with her tears, and with the return of her renowned sense of realism and logic came the realisation -- she was not only naked in the centre of her potion professor's private bed chamber, but she had probably also lost her virginity to.. greasy, sleazy Snape!
She shuddered in complete repulsion. Her tears rose again, only to be defeated by a new sense of determination. She had to get out of here! If she was to make any sense of what happened or discover what exactly had gone so terribly wrong on the night of Halloween, then she had to be somewhere, anywhere, but in her current spot. Tucking the sheet more neatly about her body, she settled on the bed to wait him out.
Snape appeared soon after, unshaved, his hair dripping, and dressed in his customary black teacher's robe with a high collar. Being fully dressed in his frock and trousers made it easier for him to adopt his teacher role, and he gave her a look of disdain. Hermione gathered from his more controlled tone, that he had spent his time thinking about the current predicament as well. "Miss Granger" he sneered, "why are you not yet dressed?"
"I seem to have misplaced my school uniform, Professor" she replied calmly.
"Then you must not have looked properly!". He shrugged, allowed his head to
fall in to his hands, and started massaging his temples.
~~~*~~~
In the bathroom, he had sat down on the edge of the tub and had turned the taps on. The soft gushing sound of water had stimulated him, and he made a desperate attempt to gather some feel of authority while mulling over the facts.
Last night he had reluctantly attended the Halloween party, after the promise from Dumbledore that he could choose his partner for the next 'teacher bonding' event, instead of always being forced to patrner with the likes Hagrid, or Hooch. He had taken his time finishing off his meal, refraining from dancing and just shot a look of disgust to each happy individual that dared to look his way. Three hours and four goblets of pumpkin punch later, he had begun to stab absently at the cheerful faces on the icing of the cupcakes icing before being overcome with the urge to use the lavatory.
Returning to the Hall, he poured himself another two goblets of punch, before starting to patrol the hallways, deducting points from over-excited students who were making-out behind various statues. It was around this point that it all became a bit distorted; he had felt dizzy, as well as a bit nauseous, and then things became too hazy to recollect anything more... he vaguely recalled Professor McGonagall asking him if he had tasted the punch, and mumbling something about some student spicing it up with some alcoholic substance..
'Oh Merlin no...', he thought.
He didn't know if he should cry or laugh, but then settled with neither; instead, rubbing his forehead with frustration until it was red and sore. Could he really be capable of this? Never in any drunken state of his previous life had he become so intoxicated that he could neither remember what had happened, nor done something he truly regretted. He would have thought that the concept of seducing a student, regardless of how drunk or how drugged he was, would be too obscene for him to contemplate, let alone go through with. And of all women to choose, why *Hermione Granger*? If he had been so drunk that he had chosen a girl whom, for the last few years, he had hardly been able to tolerate in his class, then how could he possibly have, well.. gotten it up?
Turning off the taps, Snape slipped into the warm water, feeling the stress draining just a little from his tense muscles, and started to speculate on this disturbing thought. This whole bizarre situation barely seemed real; he reflected that in his fifteen years or so as professor at Hogwarts he had never thought of a student in any manner or way that could be considered indecent. After all, he basically raised the brats, from age eleven when the girls had nether chest or hips to speak of; one thing he could state with confidence, was that he had no interest in children in 'that' sort of way.
"NO!!", came the emphatic reply.
Hermione watched the potion master slide out of bed with as much dignity a naked man could possibly present, when leaving the bed occupied by his top of the class student. Snatching a pillow to cover his privates, he began searching through his apartment frantically. "Where are my blasted clothes.." he growled.. "we must have undressed somewhere!" he turned to look at the startled Hermione who was still sitting, petrified, underneath the bed covers; her eyes widened at his chosen words -- 'we must have undressed'.
"What are you doing just sitting there?", he snapped. "Help me find your clothes and get dressed!"
Observing him move about the room, exposed except for a shabby old pillow covering the essentials, she couldn't help but notice how he somewhat seemed less threatening. He always wore an excessive amount of fabric, black that neither enhanced or diminished his shape -- billowing cloaks and robes that made his figure seem somewhat larger. He was as lean as he was tall, and he stood at around six feet, give or take, his frame gaunt, his muscles toned, but possessed of a very pallid complexion.
"Get a move on!" he barked, which startled her into action, and she half leapt out of bed, still clinging to the covers with dear life, and ended up clumsily scrambling on the floor in a heap.
"Merlin, grant me patience.." he groaned, collecting a fresh set of wizarding robes from his closet, and entering the bathroom.
Hermione sat on the dark hard wood floor, and ran the current scenario through her mind a couple of times; snapping back to reality, she got up. Wrapping the bed clothes about her small frame like a toga, she carefully explored the room for anything that could resemble her school robes. She continued in this idle search until she heard the sound of running water coming from the bathroom.
She took a relieved breath, as this bought her some time; she began to take in the alien surroundings of Snape's chambers, struggling to come up with some sort of strategy to escape this even more alien scenario. The shock factor was diminishing, along with her tears, and with the return of her renowned sense of realism and logic came the realisation -- she was not only naked in the centre of her potion professor's private bed chamber, but she had probably also lost her virginity to.. greasy, sleazy Snape!
She shuddered in complete repulsion. Her tears rose again, only to be defeated by a new sense of determination. She had to get out of here! If she was to make any sense of what happened or discover what exactly had gone so terribly wrong on the night of Halloween, then she had to be somewhere, anywhere, but in her current spot. Tucking the sheet more neatly about her body, she settled on the bed to wait him out.
Snape appeared soon after, unshaved, his hair dripping, and dressed in his customary black teacher's robe with a high collar. Being fully dressed in his frock and trousers made it easier for him to adopt his teacher role, and he gave her a look of disdain. Hermione gathered from his more controlled tone, that he had spent his time thinking about the current predicament as well. "Miss Granger" he sneered, "why are you not yet dressed?"
"I seem to have misplaced my school uniform, Professor" she replied calmly.
"Then you must not have looked properly!". He shrugged, allowed his head to
fall in to his hands, and started massaging his temples.
~~~*~~~
In the bathroom, he had sat down on the edge of the tub and had turned the taps on. The soft gushing sound of water had stimulated him, and he made a desperate attempt to gather some feel of authority while mulling over the facts.
Last night he had reluctantly attended the Halloween party, after the promise from Dumbledore that he could choose his partner for the next 'teacher bonding' event, instead of always being forced to patrner with the likes Hagrid, or Hooch. He had taken his time finishing off his meal, refraining from dancing and just shot a look of disgust to each happy individual that dared to look his way. Three hours and four goblets of pumpkin punch later, he had begun to stab absently at the cheerful faces on the icing of the cupcakes icing before being overcome with the urge to use the lavatory.
Returning to the Hall, he poured himself another two goblets of punch, before starting to patrol the hallways, deducting points from over-excited students who were making-out behind various statues. It was around this point that it all became a bit distorted; he had felt dizzy, as well as a bit nauseous, and then things became too hazy to recollect anything more... he vaguely recalled Professor McGonagall asking him if he had tasted the punch, and mumbling something about some student spicing it up with some alcoholic substance..
'Oh Merlin no...', he thought.
He didn't know if he should cry or laugh, but then settled with neither; instead, rubbing his forehead with frustration until it was red and sore. Could he really be capable of this? Never in any drunken state of his previous life had he become so intoxicated that he could neither remember what had happened, nor done something he truly regretted. He would have thought that the concept of seducing a student, regardless of how drunk or how drugged he was, would be too obscene for him to contemplate, let alone go through with. And of all women to choose, why *Hermione Granger*? If he had been so drunk that he had chosen a girl whom, for the last few years, he had hardly been able to tolerate in his class, then how could he possibly have, well.. gotten it up?
Turning off the taps, Snape slipped into the warm water, feeling the stress draining just a little from his tense muscles, and started to speculate on this disturbing thought. This whole bizarre situation barely seemed real; he reflected that in his fifteen years or so as professor at Hogwarts he had never thought of a student in any manner or way that could be considered indecent. After all, he basically raised the brats, from age eleven when the girls had nether chest or hips to speak of; one thing he could state with confidence, was that he had no interest in children in 'that' sort of way.