A/N: So NaNoWriMo is upon us - and I have managed to procrastinate on my NaNo novel with this (small miracles!). However other updates will not be like this - I am aiming for updates every 2-3 weeks going forward.

Please read and review - Reviews feed the writer. Also I would love to know what you think of this: what works, what doesn't.

Chapter 4: Christmas at Hogwarts

Her eyes fluttered open, quite inelegantly. But soon she realised it was too dark for it to matter as not only no one would have see her ridiculous state but she could barely see anything at all. As her eyes tried to adjust and focus on something, anything, she remembered where she was. The dungeons. And if her luck had not turned sour then hopefully not in a dank, closed off dungeon somewhere in the depths of Hogwarts.

She really had not meant to fall asleep, and yet she had. She had had every intention of leaving soon after. Speaking of which, the soft snoring of the other occupant ij the bed reassured her of her location. At least it was as reassuring as a flightless bird realising it is safe, on the top of a very high, and very narrow, peak.

Plus side: At least she was not locked away in a dank dungeon. The steady breathing and the occasional snoring kept her alert of the warm body next to her. A raging blush filled her all over as she remembered the previous evening. It had been good fun.

Hermione had arrived with her friends for the annual Hogwarts Christmas Party. Headmistress Minerva McGonagall had carried forth Albus Dumbledore's tradition of hosting a dinner party for the remaining students and alumna in the Great Hall. As a student Hermione had never attended one of these as she had often spent Christmas holidays with her parents, and at times extended family.

Minerva was not Albus. She preferred classic simple decorations to the extravagant displays of her predecessor. It was a simple elegance: Fresh cut tress lined the walls at regular intervals. Each tree was different from the next, from Grand Firs, to Scotch Pine, and Leyland Cypress - the scent of Christmas was in the air. Instead of the vertical tables, as would be set for the academic period, for the feast they were arranged horizontally, and the teacher's table had been removed entirely.

The ghosts of Hogwarts, and Fred, had got into the spirit too. Upon Hermione's arrival, magical Christmas poppers were going off all around, much to the enjoyment of the younger students. The smell of eggnog and mistletoe cascaded through the room. At the front of the room, Fred and Luna were entertaining a small group of students with merchandise from the Weasley Wizards Wheezes. George, with Harry and Blaise, were joyfully investigating presents under the large tree that sat at the centre of the raised platform.

Dinner had been as spectacular as one could expect from the Hogwarts kitchens. The house elves had truly done well. Even after the food had been removed the aroma of roast, of all kinds, and pumpkin soup lingered.

Some time after the younger guests had started to wander back to their dorms, Severus had approached her. She had been surprised, and wished she had helped herself to more mead. This was the first occasion since the Holiday period had started that Hermione was dead sober. And it seemed that so was he.

He had caught her unawares, yet again: She had been admiring the small train that was zipping through one of the Christmas trees at the far end of the hall - it was a nice delicate touch.

'Least the room isn't bursting with Christmas decorations.'

Those had been his first words to her. The first she had heard of him since the bathroom at Grimmauld Place. Severus Snape stood tall next to her. She wondered if he had thought about her since that evening. She wondered if he too had been unable to stop thinking about the way his hands had traversed her body, and the way his body had felt against hers. She had not been able to rid her mind of it - the heat rising to her cheeks quickly.

'We really should send the lot of them back to their families. Keeping the dunderheads around is just exhausting. At least none of them would dare wander down to the east end of dungeons out of their own volition. What little mercy some of us have. Even if one of the critters did find their way past the 14th Century gargoyle none would be wise enough to stop at the King of Scotland and his paramour's portraits - where they would not know to tap the date of ascension on the sixth stone.'

He only paused momentarily, before continuing,'I suppose that is the only mercy I am given. None of the dunder-brained idiots would know of the muggle usage of morse code. You, I suspect, on the other hand would know of the numbers?'

It must had been a rhetoric question, because soon after it was spoken, he had turned and left. For several minutes Hermione had stood in awe of what had transpired. She was quite certain that in his stern monologue Severus Snape had just given her directions to his quarters in the dungeons. Or a trap, her cynical brain sung out. Maybe he wanted to silence her so that she would not be able to let the world know that Severus Snape had boned the Gryffindor. The blush return.

That's how she had end up at his door. After announcing her leave, she had quietly made her way to the dungeons. Following his instructions to a tee.

And that was how she was here now. Well, truth be told she was first in his living room. Then against his book case, which was then followed by the bed, where she was now.

They had barely spoken. He had asked whether she wanted a drink, she had said yes. But now lying in the bed next to the Potions Master she was certain that her glass of firewhiskey was probably still sitting on the table in his living room, untouched. The blush returned. It had been a mutual jumping of bones. She had attacked his clothes as he had swiftly freed her of hers. He had near growled at her when in her haste she had popped off a few buttons from his shirt.

Hermione pulled gently at the sheet wrapped around her. It came free quickly. For a moment she stopped still, listening out for any change in his breathing. When it appeared to her that he was still slumbering, she swiftly swung her legs out of bed, trying her best to not disturb his sleep. She did not think she would be able to survive seeing him, or him seeing her so very bare in the light of day - at least not so literally the light.

As lightly as she could manage she softly padded across the room in the dark. Her navigation completely dependent on her own fuzzy recollection of the layout of his bedroom. She stubbed her toe, and held herself together, just barely, as she recovered from the sudden injury and continued. Finding the door, Hermione ran her hands over the surface of the wood in search of the door knob.

When she did find it, she exhaled in relieve. As she turn the door knob, she looked over her shoulder at the resting man - she could make out very little in the darkness. She moved out of the way as the door swung inward.

She was greeted by a sudden chill. At which point Hermione realised that the room must have been under a temperature regulating charm or spell. Smart, she thought. Instead of venturing out further towards the living area, she waved her hand and wandlessly retrieved her wand and clothes. Clothes in hand, standing in the doorway, she proceeded to get dressed.

'Lumos would make things easier.'

'Fuck!'

She jumped slightly at the voice that came from the bed she had not too long ago vacated. From where a lumos was now illuminating the room and the man in the bed.

'You scared me.'

'I noticed.'

Severus Snape looked all too smug for her liking. She silently thanked Merlin that she had managed to get into her skirt and at least her bra.

As she continued to dress, first the blouse and then the robes, she spoke, 'Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you.'

She was starting to get really frustrated by the fact that Severus Snape kept catching her off her guard. Soon after Severus with no caution at all pushed back the sheets and left the bed as naked as the day he was born. Casually walking through the door on the right she had not previously noticed. He stopped at the door and looked at her over his shoulder.

'To activate the floo tap the fourth stone between the Masters level two and three frames. Two short and one long.'

And with that, he went into what Hermione presumed was the bathroom. The gushing of the tap that followed confirmed her presumption to be accurate.

Once again dumbstruck by the man, Hermione walked into the living room, wand lit, and headed towards the fireplace. Her bare feet against the cold floor made little sound as she found her exit home.

Once the floo was activated, she looked back over her shoulder at the small quarters. The rushing water from the bathroom was all that could be heard in the silence of the night. The last thing she saw before she was swirled away by the floo were the books lying scattered on the floor by the bookshelf.