Chapter 2
Severus hoped he was dead, but he had a sneaking suspicion that no one could feel so much pain and still be alive. For a second he thought he was suffering from another dose of Crucio inflicted on him by Voldemort, but then the events of the night before came flooding back.
The stripper. Ron and Harry joining in and taking their clothes off. A partially naked Ron dancing on the tables with the stripper. Being thrown out of the pub. Staggering home in the early hours of the morning. Being put to bed by someone, he couldn't remember who.
Dear God, Hermione was going to kill him. It was a shame that his head was full of cotton wool when he desperately needed all his faculties to think of something to head off her wrath. Sod it, he would just have to fall back on the old favourite and throw his companions to the wolves. It was hallowed by tradition, and was usually effective, whether in the domestic context or the cut and thrust of deatheater politics.
At least it would buy him some time to think of something more sophisticated.
Presumably there would be less actual poisoning and assassination involved in family life, although that would depend on the family. For the Malfoys there didn't seem to be much difference between family life and the more advanced kind of practical politics.
He opened one eyelid cautiously only to be stabbed in the eye by an aggressive ray of light. He winced.
He fumbled for his wand, but couldn't find it. Dear god, he must have been drunk if he let that out of his reach. He sighed. It was no use; he would have to open his eyes without turning out the sun first. He cautiously shifted his head to one side, and then opened both eyes. There was a reason he had an Order of Merlin First Class - incredible bravery in the face of immense suffering. Well, that, and Hermione bullying Albus.
It was an immense effort to raise his head, and he regretted making the effort almost immediately. It wasn't the blinding pain, or the shooting colours, but the sight of Harry and Ron partially naked and curled up together on the sofa. At least he hoped they were only partially naked, but he couldn't be sure as, mercifully, a quilt hid the lower halves of their bodies. Remus was sprawled across the floor, still fully clothed, but with a pillow tucked under his head.
Merlin, one of them must have put him to bed last night. He cautiously lifted the covers and peered down. Thank all the deities, they had only taken off his boots, his jacket and loosened his shirt. He was to all intents and purposes still fully clothed.
He let his head fall back - very gently - to the cool pillow. He wanted his wand, he wanted hangover potion, oh how he wanted hangover potion, then he wanted to get rid of this riff raff, have a long soak in the bath, preferably with Hermione, and a little light breakfast. No eggs. And definitely no bacon.
Although he could really fancy a chip butty, for old time's sake if nothing else.
He utched around to get a little more comfortable. He contemplated the ceiling. In two days time he was getting married. He gathered that most men felt nervous before the 'Big Day' and worried about giving up the last of their precious freedom. He had never felt so happy in his life. Who wanted to spend time in the pub drinking with their 'mates' when they could be at home being cosseted and stroked. He smiled the sort of smile that very few people had seen, apart from Gryffindors facing the deduction of house points into three figures.
He wanted Hermione. He was in desperate need of being cosseted and stroked right now.
He was just beginning the delicate process of levering himself out of bed when, as if summoned by his thoughts, a marvellous angel appeared with a cool hand and a bottle of hangover potion.
A quick gulp later and he could feel the results. Hermione moved to sit behind him on the bed, and he leaned back into her fond embrace.
The stripper. Ooops. Better get the confession out of the way earlier rather than later, and preferably whilst the boys were still asleep and unable to object to his betrayal. If he got his version of events in first . she surely wouldn't be so heartless as to argue with him when he was in this state.
"Did you enjoy yourself dear?" she asked quietly.
He nodded cautiously. Yes, the potion was working. "Hmmmm. Even the stripper."
Whatever Hermione was going to say to him in the light of his confession was lost as the boys woke up.
Ron woke first, and shot off the couch as soon as he realised exactly was cuddling up to him "Ugh, Harry, you pervert! Can't you keep your hands to yourself?"
"It's you that's been dribbling on my shoulder. Look at it. It's all wet. At least I hope its saliva and not something worse."
"Boys, boys. I think you have some explaining to do."
Severus noticed out of the corner of his eye that Remus was stirring, but had decided that discretion was the better part of valour and was pretending to be still asleep. He caught Severus's eye and winked. He briefly thought about dropping him in it but, in the first place Remus had saved his life during the battle against Voldemort. Secondly, and probably more importantly, Hermione was building up a real head of steam in her tirade against the boys and it was important not to interrupt her flow.
The boys were getting the full benefit of Hermione without the aid of hangover potion, and were clearly in pain.
"We're sorry Hermione, we didn't mean anything by it," said Harry.
"Yeah," said Ron, "we're sorry. Just tell us what we can do to make it up to you."
"Anything?" she said.
Severus almost - almost - felt sorry for them. They had just made a tactical mistake similar in scale to the charge of the Light Brigade. He wondered what Hermione had in mind for them. Knowing her it would be humiliating and a very effective punishment.
"Anything," they assured her jointly. Remus kept very quiet.
"Right. I shall hold you to that. In the meantime, I suggest you head back to your own rooms where you will find hangover potions waiting for you." They made a break for freedom and, in the manner of foolish sheep everywhere, there was a moment when all three of them were trying to get out of the door at once.
"I'm not in trouble am I?" he said in his most contrite tones when they had gone. He knew she wasn't fooled for a moment, but he also knew it amused her when he played these games.
She lay down next to him on the bed and tucked an errant strand of hair behind his ear. "Don't be silly. I deliberately told them not to get you a stripper, knowing it would make them do it. Its obvious really - I knew they wouldn't do it unless I convinced them that I was opposed to the idea. And I wanted you to have the best engagement party possible."
He wrapped an arm round her and pulled her closer. "What are you going to make them do?"
"Well, I couldn't find any male strippers for my engagement party ."
Severus looked at her in horror. Not only had Harry and Ron been played for fools, so had he. He could hardly complain about Hermione having a stripper at her hen night, not now. She was smirking at him. The evil woman.
Mind you, it was only Harry and Ron, and they were hardly likely to be any competition. He smirked back.
"And to think they were giving me Hermione handling tips last night. They haven't got a clue, have they?" "They forget that while they are giving you Hermione handling tips, that I've been running their lives since they were eleven, bless them!" She rolled closer into him and started nibbling at his earlobe. "And you don't need an tips, you handle me just fine," she husked into his ear.
"You wouldn't be trying to take advantage of me in my weakened state would you?" he said.
"Slytherin tactics dear. I've learned from the master. It's the best time to take advantage of you."
"I'll struggle."
"Oh, goody."
Severus hoped he was dead, but he had a sneaking suspicion that no one could feel so much pain and still be alive. For a second he thought he was suffering from another dose of Crucio inflicted on him by Voldemort, but then the events of the night before came flooding back.
The stripper. Ron and Harry joining in and taking their clothes off. A partially naked Ron dancing on the tables with the stripper. Being thrown out of the pub. Staggering home in the early hours of the morning. Being put to bed by someone, he couldn't remember who.
Dear God, Hermione was going to kill him. It was a shame that his head was full of cotton wool when he desperately needed all his faculties to think of something to head off her wrath. Sod it, he would just have to fall back on the old favourite and throw his companions to the wolves. It was hallowed by tradition, and was usually effective, whether in the domestic context or the cut and thrust of deatheater politics.
At least it would buy him some time to think of something more sophisticated.
Presumably there would be less actual poisoning and assassination involved in family life, although that would depend on the family. For the Malfoys there didn't seem to be much difference between family life and the more advanced kind of practical politics.
He opened one eyelid cautiously only to be stabbed in the eye by an aggressive ray of light. He winced.
He fumbled for his wand, but couldn't find it. Dear god, he must have been drunk if he let that out of his reach. He sighed. It was no use; he would have to open his eyes without turning out the sun first. He cautiously shifted his head to one side, and then opened both eyes. There was a reason he had an Order of Merlin First Class - incredible bravery in the face of immense suffering. Well, that, and Hermione bullying Albus.
It was an immense effort to raise his head, and he regretted making the effort almost immediately. It wasn't the blinding pain, or the shooting colours, but the sight of Harry and Ron partially naked and curled up together on the sofa. At least he hoped they were only partially naked, but he couldn't be sure as, mercifully, a quilt hid the lower halves of their bodies. Remus was sprawled across the floor, still fully clothed, but with a pillow tucked under his head.
Merlin, one of them must have put him to bed last night. He cautiously lifted the covers and peered down. Thank all the deities, they had only taken off his boots, his jacket and loosened his shirt. He was to all intents and purposes still fully clothed.
He let his head fall back - very gently - to the cool pillow. He wanted his wand, he wanted hangover potion, oh how he wanted hangover potion, then he wanted to get rid of this riff raff, have a long soak in the bath, preferably with Hermione, and a little light breakfast. No eggs. And definitely no bacon.
Although he could really fancy a chip butty, for old time's sake if nothing else.
He utched around to get a little more comfortable. He contemplated the ceiling. In two days time he was getting married. He gathered that most men felt nervous before the 'Big Day' and worried about giving up the last of their precious freedom. He had never felt so happy in his life. Who wanted to spend time in the pub drinking with their 'mates' when they could be at home being cosseted and stroked. He smiled the sort of smile that very few people had seen, apart from Gryffindors facing the deduction of house points into three figures.
He wanted Hermione. He was in desperate need of being cosseted and stroked right now.
He was just beginning the delicate process of levering himself out of bed when, as if summoned by his thoughts, a marvellous angel appeared with a cool hand and a bottle of hangover potion.
A quick gulp later and he could feel the results. Hermione moved to sit behind him on the bed, and he leaned back into her fond embrace.
The stripper. Ooops. Better get the confession out of the way earlier rather than later, and preferably whilst the boys were still asleep and unable to object to his betrayal. If he got his version of events in first . she surely wouldn't be so heartless as to argue with him when he was in this state.
"Did you enjoy yourself dear?" she asked quietly.
He nodded cautiously. Yes, the potion was working. "Hmmmm. Even the stripper."
Whatever Hermione was going to say to him in the light of his confession was lost as the boys woke up.
Ron woke first, and shot off the couch as soon as he realised exactly was cuddling up to him "Ugh, Harry, you pervert! Can't you keep your hands to yourself?"
"It's you that's been dribbling on my shoulder. Look at it. It's all wet. At least I hope its saliva and not something worse."
"Boys, boys. I think you have some explaining to do."
Severus noticed out of the corner of his eye that Remus was stirring, but had decided that discretion was the better part of valour and was pretending to be still asleep. He caught Severus's eye and winked. He briefly thought about dropping him in it but, in the first place Remus had saved his life during the battle against Voldemort. Secondly, and probably more importantly, Hermione was building up a real head of steam in her tirade against the boys and it was important not to interrupt her flow.
The boys were getting the full benefit of Hermione without the aid of hangover potion, and were clearly in pain.
"We're sorry Hermione, we didn't mean anything by it," said Harry.
"Yeah," said Ron, "we're sorry. Just tell us what we can do to make it up to you."
"Anything?" she said.
Severus almost - almost - felt sorry for them. They had just made a tactical mistake similar in scale to the charge of the Light Brigade. He wondered what Hermione had in mind for them. Knowing her it would be humiliating and a very effective punishment.
"Anything," they assured her jointly. Remus kept very quiet.
"Right. I shall hold you to that. In the meantime, I suggest you head back to your own rooms where you will find hangover potions waiting for you." They made a break for freedom and, in the manner of foolish sheep everywhere, there was a moment when all three of them were trying to get out of the door at once.
"I'm not in trouble am I?" he said in his most contrite tones when they had gone. He knew she wasn't fooled for a moment, but he also knew it amused her when he played these games.
She lay down next to him on the bed and tucked an errant strand of hair behind his ear. "Don't be silly. I deliberately told them not to get you a stripper, knowing it would make them do it. Its obvious really - I knew they wouldn't do it unless I convinced them that I was opposed to the idea. And I wanted you to have the best engagement party possible."
He wrapped an arm round her and pulled her closer. "What are you going to make them do?"
"Well, I couldn't find any male strippers for my engagement party ."
Severus looked at her in horror. Not only had Harry and Ron been played for fools, so had he. He could hardly complain about Hermione having a stripper at her hen night, not now. She was smirking at him. The evil woman.
Mind you, it was only Harry and Ron, and they were hardly likely to be any competition. He smirked back.
"And to think they were giving me Hermione handling tips last night. They haven't got a clue, have they?" "They forget that while they are giving you Hermione handling tips, that I've been running their lives since they were eleven, bless them!" She rolled closer into him and started nibbling at his earlobe. "And you don't need an tips, you handle me just fine," she husked into his ear.
"You wouldn't be trying to take advantage of me in my weakened state would you?" he said.
"Slytherin tactics dear. I've learned from the master. It's the best time to take advantage of you."
"I'll struggle."
"Oh, goody."