He had woken up in the Infirmary often enough to be able to recognise it by
scent alone; there was no need to open his eyes. The smell of medicinal
potions with a hint of vomit that no amount of cleaning could remove; the
crisp feel of the starched sheets; the narrowness of the beds, more suited
to children than adults: they all told the same story. He was in the
Infirmary, about to have indignities visited on his person by Madam
Pomfrey.
He was sure that Pomfrey was a pervert of some sort. She seemed to take an inordinate pleasure in causing him humiliation, and was obsessed with removing his clothes. He had spent long enough with the Deatheaters to recognise that sort of behaviour; and he wanted nothing to do with it. He had to admit that she was a dab hand at treating the after-effects of Crucio, at least once he'd explained his views that the treatment could be administered without the removal of his drawers.
He would have kept his robes on completely given half a chance; not that he ever was.
He made the habitual inventory: legs, two, moving: check; arms, two, moving: check; hearing: check; now for the critical test. He opened his eyes to see a blurry shape before him. He clutched at the covers reflexively, determined to keep his underwear in situ.
When his vision cleared, he could tell that the shape was in fact Hermione Granger, and this triggered a rush of memory from what was – presumably – the night before: the punch; the need to hunt down the Weasleys and make them pay; the dizziness; the snogging of Hermoine; and the ultimate humiliation of being hexed.
He tried to summon up some indignation about Hermione hexing him rather than simply slapping his face, but he couldn't; his behaviour had been unforgivable.
"It was the punch," he blurted, hoping that some attempt at an apology would avert her wrath before she could really get going. His head hurt; he wanted some peace and quiet.
"Oh I know," she said. "I thought at first that you were just a bit frisky because you were drunk."
"I can assure you it is not my habit to lure young ladies outside and then force my attentions upon them unless under some malign influence."
"No, you're much more likely to lure them back to your rooms for a glass of wine, some civilised conversation, perhaps another glass of wine, and then pounce on them. I rather thought the terrible twins were behind it when they were so quick to cast Stupefy and rescue rescue from your grasp."
He knew that his brains were addled by the remnants of the potion, and later he would find the news that the Weasley twins – and not Hermione, who he would have been forced to concede had every right to do so - had added insult to injury by hexing him very interesting indeed, but he was distracted by a mystery even greater than how best to punish them.
He could have sworn that she sounded disappointed. She looked disappointed as well. She seemed to have given a great deal of thought as to method of seduction he would be most likely to use. He cast his mind back to the admittedly confused events of the evening before. No, to the best of his recollection, she hadn't been struggling; in fact, he had the impression that she had been an enthusiastic participant, right up to the point that he had been hexed. Surely she hadn't been interested in a drunken snog with her ex-teacher?
And yet.....
He consoled himself with the thought that if he was wrong, he really couldn't be in any more of an embarrassing situation than at present; and if he was right, well, there was an opportunity here that shouldn't be missed.
"Hermione, you shouldn't assume because I kissed you whilst under the influence of a potion that I would only kiss you when under the influence of a potion. It is merely that my enthusiasm would be tempered by a certain amount of skill. You should recall from your student days that most of what are laughingly referred to as love potions require a certain amount of attraction to be extant between the parties; I don't think the twins would be able to brew the more complex potions necessary to completely override a persons will."
Well, she hadn't run screaming from the room, but she was looking at him with an expression of calculating intelligence rarely seen other than on the face of someone performing complex mental arithmancy.
"Just exactly how much more skill, because you didn't seem to be doing too badly last night," she said.
He just smiled and put his head back down on the pillow. Time, he thought, to be enigmatic and mysterious.
The whole effect was ruined by the arrival of Madam Pomfrey, who seemed determine to evict Hermione from her seat by his side, presumably in anticipation of removing his clothing. He was surprised to find that he hadn't already been stripped and inserted into one of those nasty gowns with the slits up the back. It was very difficult to be enigmatic with our arse hanging out.
He was pleased to see that Hermione was sticking to her post like a limpet.
"Miss Granger, I'll have to ask you to leave. I need to examine Professor Snape."
"I don't think Severus minds if I stay, do you Severus." There was only the slightest hint of emphasis on the use of his first name, but nonetheless it registered with Madam Pomfrey.
She bristled. "I hardly think it's appropriate for you to be present when Professor Snape is in a state of undress."
"I'm sure there's nothing there I haven't seen before," Hermione replied. "You do come with all the standard equipment don't you Severus?"
He resisted the urge to point out that it may be the usual equipment, but it was certainly above standard; he didn't want to inflame Madame Pomfrey any further. Besides, boasting was hardly enigmatic, or indeed stylish in any way.
He simply nodded. "I don't mind if Hermione stays."
Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips, but there was nothing she could say if Severus had no objections. She drew out her wand and proceeded to cast several complex diagnostic spells. Snape wondered whether, if Hermione had left, he would have been forced to remove his clothes for these tests. Now he knew that it was unnecessary to strip down to his underpants, he was damned if he was ever letting the pervy witch anywhere near him in future.
When he thought of all the times he'd been in the infirmary, alone, weak and vulnerable...... It made him shudder to think what she had been up to.
"Well," she said, "you seem to be fine. I'm concerned though, you shouldn't have been unconscious for so long after a simple Stupefy."
Hermione nodded in agreement. "That's true, but he was under the influence of alcohol combined with whatever potion the Weasley twins slipped him; might that not have had an effect?"
Madam Pomfrey cast her a look of strong irritation. "That might explain things, yes; but that's all the more reason for you to stay in here where I can keep an eye on you. Goodness only knows what the Terrible Twins were brewing."
Hermione wasn't to be defeated. "That's all right, Madam Pomfrey. I feel at least partially responsible for what happened to Severus. I'll be happy to stay with him, and I'm sure he'd feel much more comfortable in the privacy of his own quarters."
Severus rested comfortably on the bed, enjoying the spectacle of two women apparently fighting over him. A spectacle made all the more enjoyable by the undoubted fact that Hermione was winning, and winning handsomely.
Madam Pomfrey conceded with bad grace, and headed into her office to fetch some potions to be administered to Snape at regular intervals. "Miss Granger," she called, "if you could help me with this....." Hermione smiled briefly at Severus, and then obediently trotted after the Mediwitch.
*She's nice*
Severus was startled to hear a voice. He looked round, but there didn't seem to be anyone in the room.
*I rather think she likes you. The older one does too. She's got a face like a camel though.*
He found himself agreeing with the mystery voice, but he felt extremely uneasy that he couldn't find where it was coming from. In his experience, paranoia wasn't a mental health problem but a state of mind that had saved his life on many an occasion. Disembodied voices were rarely good news.
*So, what are you going to do about it? Why don't you invite her back to your rooms to soothe your fevered brow. Perhaps you could ask her to hold your hand?*
Of course, he could be going mad. The strain of teaching potions to morons could finally be getting to him. The next thing he'd know would be waking up to the clean, white walls of St Mungo's.
*What's the matter, Severus? You seem a bit nervous.*
He cautiously slid his hand onto his wand, and quietly cast a revealing charm. He wouldn't put it past the Weasley Twins to be playing silly buggers again.
Nothing.
*Well of course there isn't anyone here. You're looking in the wrong place*
The voice sounded muffled; as if it were coming from a very long way away. Or as if it were coming from beneath the blankets.
*Now we're getting closer.*
Dear god, he could hardly bear to look. Cautiously, he raised the hem of the blanket.
*That's it. You're getting warmer.*
He was still partially clothed from the night before – a shirt, trousers, but no jacket. His trousers were currently tented outwards. He had an erection. Not that that was unusual, although it was inappropriate, and he hoped it would subside before Hermione returned; what was unusual was the sense he had that his cock was looking at him
*Bingo! You're not as stupid as you look then.*
It appeared that not only was his cock looking at him; it was also talking to him.
A sudden bustle to his left indicated the return of Hermione, fortunately without Madam Pomfrey; he didn't think he could face explaining the situation to both of them. She looked quizzically at him; he had to admit he must look very odd holding the blanket up at wandpoint and staring down at his genitals.
He looked up at her with dull misery in his eyes, and confessed all. "It's talking to me."
"I thought that was true for most men." Hermione said with a smile. It faded as she took in his horrified expression. "You're not joking are you?" She sat down abruptly on the chair. "Blimey."
"I think the situation merits something a little stronger than blimey."
"That's a fair point," she admitted. "I just keep expecting you to deduct points." There was a thoughtful silence for a moment. "The Weasleys?" she asked.
"I'd say so," he said grimly. "I am going to kill them."
*I don't see what the fuss is all about. You should be more grateful; it's not often this happens to people.*
"I don't see why I should grateful at all," Snape said hotly. There was an injured silence from his cock. Hermione was looking at him with raised eyebrows. "You didn't hear that?" he asked defensively.
"No..."
He interrupted her before she could complete her sentence. "I'm not going mad you know."
He was relieved when she patted his hand. "Of course you're not. What I was going to say, before I was so rudely interrupted" – she gave him a very pointed stare – "is that I can't think of a potion that would have that effect."
*It's not a potion, well not entirely. The potion was just a gateway.*
Severus looked startled. "It...He..." - The presence was definitely male, and not just because it was presently residing in his cock – "says it's not the potion. That was just what he calls the gateway."
"Does he have a name?"
*I thought you'd never ask. You may call me Min.*
Severus could see himself getting tired of repeating Min's comments very quickly, but he dutifully relayed the information. He was very surprised when Hermione dropped to her knees in a state of excitement, began delving under the covers to find his groin, and then stuck her head beneath the blankets and began jabbering away in some foreign language at great speed.
He was even more surprised when a horrified voice came from the other side of the ward. "Miss Granger, what on earth do you think you're doing?"
*What do you think the old biddy's response would be if you told her the truth: she's worshipping your cock.*
Severus choked back a laugh; he couldn't see that going down very well at all. Hermione abruptly withdrew from the bedding and began stuttering some sort of explanation and apology to Madame Pomfrey. He didn't think the suggestion that she had been looking for a galleon she had dropped was entirely believable, although it did have the advantage of both being more credible than the actual truth and not dropping him in it. The wizards in white coats would be coming to remove Hermione and not him on her present performance.
*And tell her, her accent's terrible.*
'That, my dear Min, is a very bad idea,' thought Severus.
There was a very odd sensation as the entity possessing his – body – seemed to somehow twist round in him to get a better look at the arguing women. *Maybe you're right. She does look a bit stroppy. Aren't you going to help her out with some sort of explanation?*
'I don't think so. Hermione has a lot of experience at extracting herself from this kind of situation.'
*She doesn't look like that kind of person*
'She isn't, but she had two friends that were exactly that kind of person and she was very loyal.'
Hermione appeared to win the dispute, as Madam Pomfrey stormed off, saying something about Albus, wanton witches, and needing to protect her patients.
"I think I ought to get you stashed in the dungeons, while I go looking for the Twins," Hermione said, coming back to stand by the side of the bed. "She's gone off to complain to Albus about my behaviour, and I'd say we've got about ten minutes to make a run for it. And you can wipe that smile off your face; you're not the one being accused of molesting your former teacher when he's in a weakened state."
"Molesting?" he enquired mildly.
"Giving you a blow job," she replied succinctly. "As if I'd ever be stupid enough to get caught doing that!"
Severus felt a pang of disappointment; it seemed he had misunderstood her intentions after all.
*Don't be an idiot.* There was a tinge of irritation in Min's voice. *She only said she wouldn't be caught doing it, not that she wouldn't do it. She likes you, you idiot, can't you tell?*
His sense of relief was undermined by the knowledge that he was taking advice on women from his cock.
*Believe me, you need all the help you can get.*
And a very unsympathetic cock it was too.
He pulled back the covers, and gingerly stood up. No one was going to do this to Severus Snape and get away with it. He was going to hunt down the Weasleys and make them suffer.
But first he needed to go back to the Dungeons and change into something clean, fresh, uncrumpled and very, very loose.
He was sure that Pomfrey was a pervert of some sort. She seemed to take an inordinate pleasure in causing him humiliation, and was obsessed with removing his clothes. He had spent long enough with the Deatheaters to recognise that sort of behaviour; and he wanted nothing to do with it. He had to admit that she was a dab hand at treating the after-effects of Crucio, at least once he'd explained his views that the treatment could be administered without the removal of his drawers.
He would have kept his robes on completely given half a chance; not that he ever was.
He made the habitual inventory: legs, two, moving: check; arms, two, moving: check; hearing: check; now for the critical test. He opened his eyes to see a blurry shape before him. He clutched at the covers reflexively, determined to keep his underwear in situ.
When his vision cleared, he could tell that the shape was in fact Hermione Granger, and this triggered a rush of memory from what was – presumably – the night before: the punch; the need to hunt down the Weasleys and make them pay; the dizziness; the snogging of Hermoine; and the ultimate humiliation of being hexed.
He tried to summon up some indignation about Hermione hexing him rather than simply slapping his face, but he couldn't; his behaviour had been unforgivable.
"It was the punch," he blurted, hoping that some attempt at an apology would avert her wrath before she could really get going. His head hurt; he wanted some peace and quiet.
"Oh I know," she said. "I thought at first that you were just a bit frisky because you were drunk."
"I can assure you it is not my habit to lure young ladies outside and then force my attentions upon them unless under some malign influence."
"No, you're much more likely to lure them back to your rooms for a glass of wine, some civilised conversation, perhaps another glass of wine, and then pounce on them. I rather thought the terrible twins were behind it when they were so quick to cast Stupefy and rescue rescue from your grasp."
He knew that his brains were addled by the remnants of the potion, and later he would find the news that the Weasley twins – and not Hermione, who he would have been forced to concede had every right to do so - had added insult to injury by hexing him very interesting indeed, but he was distracted by a mystery even greater than how best to punish them.
He could have sworn that she sounded disappointed. She looked disappointed as well. She seemed to have given a great deal of thought as to method of seduction he would be most likely to use. He cast his mind back to the admittedly confused events of the evening before. No, to the best of his recollection, she hadn't been struggling; in fact, he had the impression that she had been an enthusiastic participant, right up to the point that he had been hexed. Surely she hadn't been interested in a drunken snog with her ex-teacher?
And yet.....
He consoled himself with the thought that if he was wrong, he really couldn't be in any more of an embarrassing situation than at present; and if he was right, well, there was an opportunity here that shouldn't be missed.
"Hermione, you shouldn't assume because I kissed you whilst under the influence of a potion that I would only kiss you when under the influence of a potion. It is merely that my enthusiasm would be tempered by a certain amount of skill. You should recall from your student days that most of what are laughingly referred to as love potions require a certain amount of attraction to be extant between the parties; I don't think the twins would be able to brew the more complex potions necessary to completely override a persons will."
Well, she hadn't run screaming from the room, but she was looking at him with an expression of calculating intelligence rarely seen other than on the face of someone performing complex mental arithmancy.
"Just exactly how much more skill, because you didn't seem to be doing too badly last night," she said.
He just smiled and put his head back down on the pillow. Time, he thought, to be enigmatic and mysterious.
The whole effect was ruined by the arrival of Madam Pomfrey, who seemed determine to evict Hermione from her seat by his side, presumably in anticipation of removing his clothing. He was surprised to find that he hadn't already been stripped and inserted into one of those nasty gowns with the slits up the back. It was very difficult to be enigmatic with our arse hanging out.
He was pleased to see that Hermione was sticking to her post like a limpet.
"Miss Granger, I'll have to ask you to leave. I need to examine Professor Snape."
"I don't think Severus minds if I stay, do you Severus." There was only the slightest hint of emphasis on the use of his first name, but nonetheless it registered with Madam Pomfrey.
She bristled. "I hardly think it's appropriate for you to be present when Professor Snape is in a state of undress."
"I'm sure there's nothing there I haven't seen before," Hermione replied. "You do come with all the standard equipment don't you Severus?"
He resisted the urge to point out that it may be the usual equipment, but it was certainly above standard; he didn't want to inflame Madame Pomfrey any further. Besides, boasting was hardly enigmatic, or indeed stylish in any way.
He simply nodded. "I don't mind if Hermione stays."
Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips, but there was nothing she could say if Severus had no objections. She drew out her wand and proceeded to cast several complex diagnostic spells. Snape wondered whether, if Hermione had left, he would have been forced to remove his clothes for these tests. Now he knew that it was unnecessary to strip down to his underpants, he was damned if he was ever letting the pervy witch anywhere near him in future.
When he thought of all the times he'd been in the infirmary, alone, weak and vulnerable...... It made him shudder to think what she had been up to.
"Well," she said, "you seem to be fine. I'm concerned though, you shouldn't have been unconscious for so long after a simple Stupefy."
Hermione nodded in agreement. "That's true, but he was under the influence of alcohol combined with whatever potion the Weasley twins slipped him; might that not have had an effect?"
Madam Pomfrey cast her a look of strong irritation. "That might explain things, yes; but that's all the more reason for you to stay in here where I can keep an eye on you. Goodness only knows what the Terrible Twins were brewing."
Hermione wasn't to be defeated. "That's all right, Madam Pomfrey. I feel at least partially responsible for what happened to Severus. I'll be happy to stay with him, and I'm sure he'd feel much more comfortable in the privacy of his own quarters."
Severus rested comfortably on the bed, enjoying the spectacle of two women apparently fighting over him. A spectacle made all the more enjoyable by the undoubted fact that Hermione was winning, and winning handsomely.
Madam Pomfrey conceded with bad grace, and headed into her office to fetch some potions to be administered to Snape at regular intervals. "Miss Granger," she called, "if you could help me with this....." Hermione smiled briefly at Severus, and then obediently trotted after the Mediwitch.
*She's nice*
Severus was startled to hear a voice. He looked round, but there didn't seem to be anyone in the room.
*I rather think she likes you. The older one does too. She's got a face like a camel though.*
He found himself agreeing with the mystery voice, but he felt extremely uneasy that he couldn't find where it was coming from. In his experience, paranoia wasn't a mental health problem but a state of mind that had saved his life on many an occasion. Disembodied voices were rarely good news.
*So, what are you going to do about it? Why don't you invite her back to your rooms to soothe your fevered brow. Perhaps you could ask her to hold your hand?*
Of course, he could be going mad. The strain of teaching potions to morons could finally be getting to him. The next thing he'd know would be waking up to the clean, white walls of St Mungo's.
*What's the matter, Severus? You seem a bit nervous.*
He cautiously slid his hand onto his wand, and quietly cast a revealing charm. He wouldn't put it past the Weasley Twins to be playing silly buggers again.
Nothing.
*Well of course there isn't anyone here. You're looking in the wrong place*
The voice sounded muffled; as if it were coming from a very long way away. Or as if it were coming from beneath the blankets.
*Now we're getting closer.*
Dear god, he could hardly bear to look. Cautiously, he raised the hem of the blanket.
*That's it. You're getting warmer.*
He was still partially clothed from the night before – a shirt, trousers, but no jacket. His trousers were currently tented outwards. He had an erection. Not that that was unusual, although it was inappropriate, and he hoped it would subside before Hermione returned; what was unusual was the sense he had that his cock was looking at him
*Bingo! You're not as stupid as you look then.*
It appeared that not only was his cock looking at him; it was also talking to him.
A sudden bustle to his left indicated the return of Hermione, fortunately without Madam Pomfrey; he didn't think he could face explaining the situation to both of them. She looked quizzically at him; he had to admit he must look very odd holding the blanket up at wandpoint and staring down at his genitals.
He looked up at her with dull misery in his eyes, and confessed all. "It's talking to me."
"I thought that was true for most men." Hermione said with a smile. It faded as she took in his horrified expression. "You're not joking are you?" She sat down abruptly on the chair. "Blimey."
"I think the situation merits something a little stronger than blimey."
"That's a fair point," she admitted. "I just keep expecting you to deduct points." There was a thoughtful silence for a moment. "The Weasleys?" she asked.
"I'd say so," he said grimly. "I am going to kill them."
*I don't see what the fuss is all about. You should be more grateful; it's not often this happens to people.*
"I don't see why I should grateful at all," Snape said hotly. There was an injured silence from his cock. Hermione was looking at him with raised eyebrows. "You didn't hear that?" he asked defensively.
"No..."
He interrupted her before she could complete her sentence. "I'm not going mad you know."
He was relieved when she patted his hand. "Of course you're not. What I was going to say, before I was so rudely interrupted" – she gave him a very pointed stare – "is that I can't think of a potion that would have that effect."
*It's not a potion, well not entirely. The potion was just a gateway.*
Severus looked startled. "It...He..." - The presence was definitely male, and not just because it was presently residing in his cock – "says it's not the potion. That was just what he calls the gateway."
"Does he have a name?"
*I thought you'd never ask. You may call me Min.*
Severus could see himself getting tired of repeating Min's comments very quickly, but he dutifully relayed the information. He was very surprised when Hermione dropped to her knees in a state of excitement, began delving under the covers to find his groin, and then stuck her head beneath the blankets and began jabbering away in some foreign language at great speed.
He was even more surprised when a horrified voice came from the other side of the ward. "Miss Granger, what on earth do you think you're doing?"
*What do you think the old biddy's response would be if you told her the truth: she's worshipping your cock.*
Severus choked back a laugh; he couldn't see that going down very well at all. Hermione abruptly withdrew from the bedding and began stuttering some sort of explanation and apology to Madame Pomfrey. He didn't think the suggestion that she had been looking for a galleon she had dropped was entirely believable, although it did have the advantage of both being more credible than the actual truth and not dropping him in it. The wizards in white coats would be coming to remove Hermione and not him on her present performance.
*And tell her, her accent's terrible.*
'That, my dear Min, is a very bad idea,' thought Severus.
There was a very odd sensation as the entity possessing his – body – seemed to somehow twist round in him to get a better look at the arguing women. *Maybe you're right. She does look a bit stroppy. Aren't you going to help her out with some sort of explanation?*
'I don't think so. Hermione has a lot of experience at extracting herself from this kind of situation.'
*She doesn't look like that kind of person*
'She isn't, but she had two friends that were exactly that kind of person and she was very loyal.'
Hermione appeared to win the dispute, as Madam Pomfrey stormed off, saying something about Albus, wanton witches, and needing to protect her patients.
"I think I ought to get you stashed in the dungeons, while I go looking for the Twins," Hermione said, coming back to stand by the side of the bed. "She's gone off to complain to Albus about my behaviour, and I'd say we've got about ten minutes to make a run for it. And you can wipe that smile off your face; you're not the one being accused of molesting your former teacher when he's in a weakened state."
"Molesting?" he enquired mildly.
"Giving you a blow job," she replied succinctly. "As if I'd ever be stupid enough to get caught doing that!"
Severus felt a pang of disappointment; it seemed he had misunderstood her intentions after all.
*Don't be an idiot.* There was a tinge of irritation in Min's voice. *She only said she wouldn't be caught doing it, not that she wouldn't do it. She likes you, you idiot, can't you tell?*
His sense of relief was undermined by the knowledge that he was taking advice on women from his cock.
*Believe me, you need all the help you can get.*
And a very unsympathetic cock it was too.
He pulled back the covers, and gingerly stood up. No one was going to do this to Severus Snape and get away with it. He was going to hunt down the Weasleys and make them suffer.
But first he needed to go back to the Dungeons and change into something clean, fresh, uncrumpled and very, very loose.