A/N: Chapter beta read by Forty-Two Dreams. All remaining mistakes are mine.
AFTERMATH
Snape groaned when he opened his eyes slowly. He was lying on his side in his bed, and while it was still quite dark he could see the sun breaking through the curtains. His memories of the end of the last night were quite foggy - this was the last time he accepted any kind of beverage from Hooch - and his head ached like it rarely had.
Thankfully he had somehow found the way back to his bed - collapsing in the middle of a hallway where any student could see him wouldn't have done any good to his image.
Hearing a sudden suspect noise behind him, Snape shot his hand towards his night table in a defensive reflex. As he was about to grasp his wand, he felt an arm slowly wrapping around his waist in a fashion that was all but menacing. He remained still as he felt silent hot breaths against the back of his neck.
Oh damn.
His hand still stretched towards the night table, he took a quick look down at the arm. He couldn't help but notice the claws scars on the forearm.
Oh damn oh damn oh damn.
He withdrew his hand at last and took a tentative look above his shoulder. Lying behind him was the Charms teacher - and a very naked one at that - snuggled against his back and looking fast asleep.
OH DAMN!
This was even worse than dying his hair pink.
Careful to move slowly and silently - all he needed now was to wake her up - Snape lifted her arm out of his way and stepped out of his bed. He gave her a cautious look: she was still sleeping.
He hurried to the bathroom, picking up his scattered clothes and robes on his way and stepping over Wilson's.
How exactly had he ended in this situation? he wondered as he closed the bathroom door behind him. He remembered quite clearly being by the lake with one drunk Hooch - and it was a wonder he hadn't finished in bed with her seeing how provocative she had begun to be that night. Wait a second, he hadn't checked for any other person in his room, he suddenly thought with mild panic. Oh well, it couldn't really get that much worse anyway…
After thinking hard for several seconds, he remembered going back to the castle and finding Sinistra and Wilson searching his potion lab for an anti-hangover potion. He also kind of remembered him and Wilson going up the stairs leading directly from his potion lab to his rooms at some point - though the why was still a mystery.
He vaguely remembered Wilson going to the window and asking how they could be on the fourth floor since they went up only one flight stairs. Snape wasn't sure what was the worst, the fact that he had answered lamely "it's magic" or the fact that Wilson had giggled idiotically at his answer.
Snape stepped in the shower and banged his head on the wall, setting the water on as cold as he could. He had enough flashes of the remaining of the night to know what had happened beyond this point - not to mention the scratch marks on the back of his shoulders, as he had noticed in the mirror with an involuntary smirk. Well, it had sounded like a fun thing to do back then - back when they were both so hopelessly drunk.
Snape watched as cold water ran down his arm to where his Dark Mark was tattooed on his forearm. When it came to women, there were usually two major reactions at the sight of his Mark: utter horror or utter fascination.
He had lost count of all the wicked witches he had met that would die for the thrill of a night with the bearer of such a mark. The Bad Boy Syndrome… Could be quite convenient at times. Could be rather depressing too, being sought only because of the presence of this mark on your forearm.
However, he hadn't lost count of the women falling in the other category, the horrified ones. One. Nashira Achernar, former Care to Magical Creatures some fifteen years before. She had noticed the Dark Mark only the next morning when waking up at his side - they hadn't really taken the time to count each other's freckles that night. Snape could still hear her screaming names at him with terror and disgust - mostly disgust at herself.
After this night, she had ignored him and then left her teaching position at the end of the year - even though he had no certainty that her leaving was motivated by this event.
Anyway, after his achievements of the previous night he would have to create a brand new "got drunk" category - even if a lot of the witches in the first category could also fall into this one. Or maybe he should just create one big "depressing relationship" category.
He sighed heavily. Did he hate next mornings.
A couple of minutes later Snape left the bathroom carefully, still as silent as wizardly possible. He walked to the bedside table to retrieve his wand. He froze when Wilson stirred in her sleep, and quickly grabbed his wand when she remained still again.
Thank Merlin she was a heavy sleeper.
Snape gave a last look towards the sleeping form of Wilson before going down the stairs to his potions lab. He couldn't stay around, not even in his lab. He didn't want to be there when she woke up, and the first place she'd have to go through when leaving was his potions lab.
So he left for Hogsmeade, desperate to get far away from her for as long as possible - at least long enough for her to wake up and leave his room and his potions lab.
He spent most of the day walking through the Apothecary's shelves. He took the opportunity to replenish his supplies, quite impoverished by over two months of experimentation. He walked down Hogsmeade's streets, delaying his return to Hogwarts. But if classes had been cancelled for the day, Occlumency lessons hadn't and there was one that evening. He would have to go back some time soon.
Snape returned to the castle in the middle of the afternoon. He entered his potions lab cautiously, and when he saw it was empty he moved to his room. Thank goodness it was empty too. There was no sign of Wilson whatsoever.
He finally settled at his desk in his office to correct what were hopefully the last essays of the year. While working on the cure he had accumulated a lot of late work, and the pile of uncorrected essays was now reaching an indecent height.
After two hours of tedious work, he heard a light knock on the door and his visitor walked in without waiting for his answer.
Snape barely looked up from his desk for split seconds before returning to his work as if no one was there.
"Hey…" Wilson hailed softly on an almost questioning tone.
Snape gave her another quick look. She seemed extremely uncomfortable and embarrassed. He paid her no heed.
"Could we please talk?" she asked, barely audible.
He didn't look up from his desk. "We found a cure. Our business together is over. There's nothing to talk about."
Wilson remained silent for several seconds. When he briefly looked up again, Snape noticed she looked more and more embarrassed. She hadn't moved from the doorstep either.
"I… I was more thinking about talking about what happened last night," she said hesitantly.
"What do you want to talk about exactly? As far as I'm concerned, absolutely nothing happened last night," he retorted harshly.
His denial seemed to anger her. "Are you implying that I dreamt waking up alone in a foreign bed with one hell of a hangover?"
Snape didn't reply, trying to continue concentrating on his work while ignoring her.
Wilson eventually sighed heavily. "You know, I thought we were both adult enough to talk about it. I guess I was wrong." She turned round to leave.
"Oh fine!" Snape blurted out, slamming his hand on his desk. "We got drunk. We did something stupid. What other blatantly obvious fact do you want to state?"
She was fuming now, glaring at him with daggers in her eyes. "At least we agree on those points," she replied coldly.
"Anything to add?" he asked rudely.
"Apart from the fact that you're one bloody git?" she retorted provocatively.
"Yes," he replied, ignoring the insult.
"What about working on our projects together?" she asked, her tone softening a bit.
"Like I said previously," Snape began, "our business together is over."
"So I can forget about it?" she queried, certainly already knowing the answer.
"Absolutely," he confirmed.
"You do realise that separately we stand no – "
"I won't change my mind," he interrupted.
"Fine," she replied grimly, her tone betraying her anger.
"May I suggest that you leave, now?" Snape asked calmly.
"Sure," Wilson replied just as calmly. Despite her answer, she remained standing there for a few more seconds, still glaring at him furiously, before asking: "Do you ever deal with the consequences of what you do?"
Snape looked up with annoyance. "Yes," he retorted bitterly, rolling up his sleeve to show her his Dark Mark. "Every day."
"Good, I'm glad to hear that," Wilson replied with a fake enthusiastic tone. She finally turned on her heels, muttering under her breath a word sounding suspiciously like 'jerk', and eventually slammed the door behind her.
On one hand, Snape was glad that she was gone and that this confrontation was over. On the other hand, he wasn't sure it had gone all that well. Losing the opportunity to work on his project with her was probably synonymous with never being successful in his research. But he couldn't work with her again. Not after…
Snape sighed heavily. He had this sort of aptitude to always spoil his life in the worst way possible. Oh well. This day couldn't get much worse anyway, even with Potter coming for his Occlumency lesson in barely an hour.
Snape would not realise how wrong he was before six more hours or so: his day was just about to get so much worse…
It all began roughly fifteen minutes after Wilson left his office. Someone knocked impatiently at his door and walked in hurriedly, stopping only once just in front of his desk.
Snape looked up, half expecting Wilson to have come back, and was surprised to see Draco Malfoy with distress all over his face.
"Draco?" he began. "What – "
"I need to talk to you, Professor," the seventh year Slytherin stated in a hurry. "And it can't really wait."
Snape was astounded by the look of acute despair in the boy's eyes. "Of course," he spoke softly. "What is it about?"
"I think I did something stupid," Malfoy replied quickly.
When Snape arched his eyebrows questioningly, Malfoy rolled up one of his sleeves to reveal a Dark Mark on his forearm.
A/N: If any of you predicted this would happen (the Snape&Wilson thing I mean), congrats. I kept debating about it with myself while writing the whole 28 previous chapters, and changed my mind over a dozen times. What decided me in the end: the fact that it would give Snape a way to really annoy Lupin... eg
Coming Next: The Choices One Makes