Chapter 5 of A Hundred Years from Yesterday will be posted as soon as I'm done editing it.
Part 3
The next day Severus awoke to a nauseating pounding.
At first he thought it was merely his brain's futile attempt to escape from his skull and the large quantity of Firewhiskey he had consumed the night before. He didn't blame it; his insides were heaving and his mouth felt as though he had spent the night trying to eat his pillow rather than hide underneath it. Even though he knew he was stuck in corporeal form, he wasn't going to begrudge any effort made on the part of his anatomy, however hopeless it would be.
The pounding subsided, leaving Severus to offer up thanks to the patron saint of hangovers and burrow further into the bedding.
A moment later he felt the pounding return, accompanied this time by the distinct feeling that his pillow was vibrating.
"Severus?"
He pulled the quilt up further – coincidentally dislodging the Half-Kneazle that had made his bed atop Severus' head – and nearly sobbed. The last thing he needed this morning was to be clawed to death by his darling's beast of a familiar while the lady herself shouted at him. Maybe she would get it over with quickly and then spend the rest of the morning doting on him in his delicate state.
She had probably cleared up that marriage nonsense by herself, regardless.
"Severus, open the door this minute." He heard the muffled sound of cursing and a muttered: "Merlin knows how you can cast wards this strong when you're pissed."
He figured it was prudent to let Hermione in before she blasted the door down – something that was sure to not help his headache at all – and groped around the bed for his wand. All he received for his troubles was a handful of unhappy fur, a sharp nip, and no sign of his wand anywhere.
He was doomed.
Severus abandoned his search and slumped back on the bed to await his fate. The room was spinning far too much for him to put effort into anything apart from not being sick. She was going to find a way in, most probably to shout at him, and not moving seemed to minimize the risk to his person. One decided perk of being in a relationship with a brilliant witch was that she could manage to break your wards herself and save you from stumbling across the room in a state of dishabille.
After all, she wouldn't hex him if he was on his death bed, would she?
"Good morning, Severus."
He gave a loving grunt in response.
"Were you drinking? I told Lucius not to let you because we were all out of hangover relief. Did he forget to mention that?"
He had.
The Slytherin part of his brain – usually on constant alert for any sign of potential danger – had been drugged into a stupor. But still, it was not so far gone to not know something wasn't quite adding up. Severus had a fuzzy recollection of brewing a cauldron full of that sort of potion a few days ago.
As though she read his mind, Hermione said, "The last batch you made was contaminated. I wonder how that could have happened."
One wonders.
He was rapidly losing the fantasy of tea and toast and fingers running through his hair.
The orange mass was promptly removed from his head and the mattress dipped with the familiar weight of Hermione. He fought the urge to roll over and cuddle up to it until he found out what she was up to. She was using that tone of voice when she was being sneaky, or when he was about to be shouted out, and had learned to prepare himself accordingly.
He felt the comforting safety of the pillow desert him; but, before he could mourn its loss, he felt more familiar fingers brush the hair away from his face. One down…
He managed a half-hearted smile before Hermione stood and began to tidy the room.
"How did your wand get in the tea pot, Severus?"
He gave another grunt in response and left Hermione to fish it out and clean it off on her sleeve. He couldn't remember making tea in the bedroom any time in the last week, or why his wand would have been anywhere near it. The brief attempt at analytical thought was too much of a strain this early in the morning – or any time of day really – after a night in which he had drank his weight in alcohol. He winced and pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead and willed the pain to recede.
"I thought you might like to sleep in, but we're having breakfast with Albus and Minerva this morning."
She paused in her efforts to reorganize his desk into accordance with her own logic, and walked over to pull the blinds back. An unfeeling, cruel beam of light shone directly into his eyes. He rolled over to shield his face.
The woman was wicked. Very, very wicked. There was no reason for him to be sociable today. It was some sort of holiday, most likely one the Headmaster had invented on a whim, and Snape had intended to take full advantage of it.
Hermione, apparently, didn't agree, and had made other plans for his poor suffering self this day.
The mattress dipped again and Severus opened his eyes. Hermione was smiling at him tenderly and wearing his favourite robes. The robes she wore for their first date. A date he had spent most of in the occupation of staring at her breasts. Lovely breasts. Hmm. He knew he looked pitiful. Maybe if he appeared to be making an effort she would feed him a bit of toast. Or at least let him rest his head against her chest… shoulder... chest.
Slowly, he managed to lever himself into a sitting position against the headboard. The room spun, but mercifully his stomach was now sturdy enough to compensate. This seemed to please his girlfriend, who leaned forward to brave his morning breath and grant him a kiss.
Mmmm.
Not quite what he was expecting but a victory nonetheless. Severus reached out to pull her down into his lap and continue this rather pleasurable activity, but felt her slip away, outsmarted handily in his hung-over state.
"As lovely as that would be, Severus, you are in desperate need of a toothbrush. Why don't you get cleaned up and I'll see about some tea, hmm?"
His hind-brain and Slytherin-brain seemed to be in accord and were willing to take that bargain; if only in the hopes that once he was a bit more aromatic, Hermione would be far more willing to take advantage of him.
That sounded sensible to him. Tea and Hermione and the terribly unfortunate side effect of missing their breakfast appointment.
Right-oh.
Thoughts of marmalade and cream coloured skin kept him company as he shuffled his way into the bathroom.
Ablutions performed and mouth minty-fresh, Snape returned and was quite mystified to see Hermione in her traveling cloak and readying the fireplace.
Clearly befuddled, and still a tad groggy, his forthcoming questions were forestalled by Hermione kissing him again. And tasting of tea. When she had not offered him a cup.
Severus frowned in confusion.
"I'm sorry about the lack of tea, but I didn't realise how late it was." She reached up to finish buttoning the last few near his collar. "Now, they're waiting for you -"
"For us."
Hermione shook her head.
"For you," she corrected. "I forgot I was supposed to meet Ginny today when I told Minerva and Albus we would come. You three have fun catching up and I'll see you later tonight."
Snape blinked. Taking advantage of his momentary hesitation, Hermione tossed the Floo powder into flames and pushed a surprisingly unresisting Severus through and into the Headmaster's office.
"Severus!"
The chorus that welcomed him was oddly reminiscent of the night before. Having experienced it once, it was more than enough to set his teeth on edge. But the splitting headache was hardly the worst implication of such heartiness.
He knew what it meant.
He really was engaged.
Somehow Hermione had managed to outmaneuver him, Head of Slytherin and consummate master of double-dealing, twice in two days. He didn't believe for a moment that it was coincidence that saw her out and about and absent from what was sure to be Congratulations and a round or two of Twenty Questions about their Sex Life.
"Come in! Have a seat, Severus. Kipper?"
Snape shook his head quickly – before his stomach could mutiny over the thought of fish – and took a seat. He tried to avoid the smell of food, and the obnoxious way Minerva always tried to pile an extra serving or two on his plate. He did however leap gratefully at the offer of tea.
"When we didn't see you last night, we were worried Hermione might not have accepted. It would be so like you to go sulk in your rooms, after all."
"No, there's no need to glare, my boy. Hermione quickly set us right when she saw Minerva after dinner."
"We thought you two might have needed a little time alone to… celebrate."
There was a tiny crash and the subsequent removal of tea from his person after Severus dropped his cup in shock. It was one thing to put up with those sorts of comments from his reprobate friends, it was quite another to hear Minerva say it with such approval and feel her squeeze his knee affectionately.
Neither of them said anything in the face of such a flustered Severus, but both twinkled in their own knowing way about young love.
"It will be such a shame to take the banner down," Albus said wistfully. "The Great Hall could use a hint of colour. Perhaps we could charm it to announce their engagement."
Minerva rolled her eyes as she sliced through a tomato.
"Only you would call the adornments here bland. You shall have to content yourself with waiting until the happy day arrives, because until then the decorations stay down."
"No."
Both sets of eyes looked up, astonished that Severus had actually contributed to the conversation, let alone contradicted them.
"I am not having my wedding anywhere at Hogwarts," Snape snarled, more viciously than he had intended.
"Goodness gracious me."
"My word, Severus."
He took a deep breath and held up a hand. "Don't. I have no intention of having the entire student body in attendance."
He was met by two, frankly disbelieving, stares.
"Why ever not?"
"Where else would you have it? Don't tell me you want it at that house of yours. It's practically dilapidated, Severus, and certainly not fit for a wedding," Minerva said, mouth turning down into a moue of disapproval.
Somewhere between his second piece of toast and the throbbing in his head lifting, his brain may not have resigned itself completely to the thought of marriage, but it had enough sense to know that he ought to prepare for the eventuality. And that meant heading off the two Gryffindor busy-bodies before they built up too much momentum.
The rest would come out in the wash.
Severus shrugged. "Lucius would most likely be amenable to the suggestion of playing host for the fete."
Dumbledore's face took on a pinched look and Minerva very discreetly cleared her throat. There was a rather pregnant silence wherein he sliced into a bit of melon.
Besides, any glee Severus would be able to take from watching Albus force himself to be civil around Malfoy was purely incidental.
Truly.
Breakfast continued along more mundane lines as the food was slowly consumed. Student infractions, House points, Quidditch.
Not another mention of the wedding was made, though Severus should have known better than to gloat when he did not have his wits about him. His smug look faded when Albus let the other shoe drop.
"When are you meeting her parents?"