A/N: Sorry it's been a while since the last update – I started a new job on Monday, and seeing as I have spent the last 3 months unemployed and going to bed at 5am, I am absolutely shattered. Also I was halfway through writing this chapter when I had a better idea and had to scrap the entire thing for it to work. Enjoy, my friends.

By the end of the night, most of the guests of the ball had worked their way through immeasurable amounts of alcohol. It was almost 2am when people began saying their goodbyes to one another.

"Are you ready to go, Hermione?" George asked her as she was saying goodbye to Neville. She turned to face him and squinted so she could focus.

"I just need to say goodbye to one more person," she replied.

And she looked around the hall, and eventually saw him sat alone in a corner with a glass in his hand. He looked lost in thought, and he jumped when he noticed her standing next to him. She put her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek.

"Goodbye, Professor, but not for long, because I hope we can continue our discussions in the future."

"Perhaps," he replied, well aware she probably wouldn't even remember this half of the evening when she woke up in the morning.

She stumbled away to where George was waiting. He put his arm around her and Severus looked on, feeling inexplicably hurt.

Once they were out of the grounds, George took the lead and disapparated to Grimmauld Place. He began to say goodbye, but Hermione interrupted him.

"You might as well stay here the night, go back tomorrow."

Being as intoxicated as he was, he followed her indoors. Once inside, Hermione tiptoed to give him a peck on the cheek, but she stumbled. George caught her by the arms, pulling her close to him. And without warning, without knowing who initiated it, they were kissing passionately, hands all over each other.

Hermione lead him upstairs to her room, attempting to be as quiet as possible; she knew Harry and Ginny had come home not long before they had. He laid her down upon her bed, mounting her, kissing her neck, running his hands up her body. He lifted the skirt of her dress up, pulling down her underwear, before he took his trousers off. He slipped a finger inside of her while he took his own underwear off. She moaned slightly, and George withdrew his finger, to enter himself. He kissed her exposed neck as he pounded her hard and fast. She gripped the duvet beneath her to try and stop herself screaming out.

As she climaxed, she closed her eyes, knowing that everything about this situation was so very wrong. But she did not picture Ron as she thought she would. Instead an image of her old potions master swam in her mind, and she wasn't deterred by it. In fact, it turned her on more.

For a while afterwards, George just lay on top of her, face buried in her neck, breathing heavily. Hermione opened her eyes and felt disgusted with herself. She had sobered up somewhat during the encounter and it had not been a good experience. It was not how she had pictured her first time.

SSHGSSHGSSHGSSHGSSHGSSHG

Snape had had enough of this dire event. He sat in the corner drinking alone, whilst everyone around him became gradually merrier. The crowd in the hall had thinned out considerably when Hermione came to say goodbye. He could easily take advantage of her given her state. Wait, what? Why was he thinking that? Granger is a former student of his, that's all. It must be the Firewhiskey clouding his judgement, making him think he was in one of the muggle bars he frequented. She kissed his cheek and after she stumbled out of the Great Hall, he touched the place her lips had been and thoughts he shouldn't be thinking started running through his head. She's a student, he told himself. But then another voice inside of him reminded him she was a former student. She wasn't his student anymore.

He felt it was time to take his leave now, and sought Rosmerta out to walk her home. Once he himself was home, he went straight to bed, images of Hermione still running through his head. He felt himself getting excited as he climbed into bed. He knew there was nothing else for it, and he allowed his imagination to run away with him as he casually touched himself. She was kissing his cheek; he was undoing the zip on her dress, kissing her neck. He was so hard for her, it was almost painful. Faster and faster his hand worked as his head conjured up different sexual scenarios between himself and Granger. As he finished off he felt shame wash over him. He couldn't believe this is what he had become – a dirty old pervert. He attempted to wash away his own self-loathing by having a shower before he settled into bed for the night.