Chapter 5: Vertigo

Chapter 5: Vertigo

I woke up the following morning reeking of Australian fungus and some sort of floral stench. I stood, and my head reeled as I faced a split second of vertigo. My skull felt as though a chisel was being driven through it, and I caught the wall just before I went down. I slid into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face and then realized I had no towel with which to wipe my cheeks.

I therefore stumbled backwards and decided to wipe my sodden face on my nightshirt. I eyed the clock and realized I had missed breakfast. Damn it all to hell, I thought as I buttoned my shirt after slamming out the door. I could expect Potter’s class in moments. The bell chimed, and I felt ready to die. I clutched my neck, and there I found a slick jelly. I smelled it and found it to be a woman’s lip gloss. I rubbed my middle and fore finger together again and again as my headache came back. All thought was driven from my mind, and my intense bewilderment faded to a nag at the back of my mind.

I sat at my desk and watched the sixth-years over my steepled fingers as they filed in. Only when Hermione Granger walked in did I ponder the lip gloss again. The way she gave me a half smile before charging to her desk made me recall that something was amiss. Before I could ponder any further, Potter strutted in shortly after, followed by a handful of giggling girls from my own house who were unwaveringly eyeing his rump. I made a mental note to give them all detentions.

I stood, and the action was greeted by another outstanding round of vertigo. I placed my hand on my desk to steady myself and looked up to see Hermione looking up at me with something of an air of compassion. I cleared my throat awkwardly and assigned them an in-class essay so that I could think. They set to work, and Hermione eyed me as I paced the rows of students, noting that Longbottom’s paper, as well as Draco’s, was absolute shite.

I had paced the entire classroom, but hadn’t dared go near Hermione; something about her furrowed brow and set jaw were extremely foreboding. What if she had witnessed me in my drunken state? Though my locked emotional vault, I felt a twinge of embarrassment at my lapse of memory. But I ventured a stroll past her desk nevertheless. I leaned over her shoulder to get a glimpse of her essay.

… Potions, an admirable science that is far too precise to be appreciated...

My words precisely on the matter were written on her paper. I smirked satisfactorily, and that was when I smelled it. An entrancing, vibrant smell came dancing through the air around her. A strange shiver went up my spine as some primal urge rose forth in me. Or perhaps something else was rising. I tried my best not to show it in my face, so I stormed back to my desk, attempting to make as much of a billowing effect as possible with my robes. I stayed behind the desk and graded insipid first-year essays until I was collected once more. With a mystery such as the current one at hand, that was not a time to have the blood drain from my brain.

The bell rang, and the students, most having already finished their essays, were off like a shot, leaving Hermione in the back, writing furiously.

“I’m almost done, Professor!” she called from the back of the room.

“You’ll be late to your next class,” I responded coldly.

“I have a free period after this,” she said, her left hand hovering in the air as she made a final mark with her quill. She smiled at it, and I felt my stomach lurch. What in the name of Hecate is happening to me?

She handed me the essay, and when her warm, brown eyes met mine, I knew I had to speak.

“Hermio—Miss Granger,” I corrected myself, “may I have a word?”

“Yes, sir,” she responded breathlessly as she turned to face me.

“Did you,” I paused, reaching into the deep fathoms of my mind for a plan, “do you mind staying here for a bit?”

“No, sir,” she responded with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Do you have a task for me?”

“Of a sort, Miss Granger,” I responded, realizing I had no reason not to ask her what she knew. I sighed before continuing, “I seem to have drank more than my fair share of beer yesterday. Did you happen to have been around my office to help me—with school matters?”

“Well,” a battle seemed to be taking place behind those honey-flecked eyes, “yes, sir, I was.” An irritating grin played at her mouth every time she said the word ‘sir’.

“Are you aware of the art of Legilimecy, Miss Granger?” I heaved a sigh; this was the only way.

“I daresay I am, Professor Snape.” She paused. “Do you wish to see what happened yesterday in my mind?”

The girl was too damn smart for her own good.

“Yes.”

“Then I give you permission.” She inclined her head, blushing slightly.

I nodded back and muttered the incantation. I dove into her thoughts, leaving my earthly body stationary behind me. My mind swam though colors and sound that were entirely feminine, nothing like the dark recesses of my own brain. I smelled powder, parchment, freshly mown grass, and a scent I believed I had smelled in my own chambers. I traced cerebral pathways that were far more orderly than those of the arrogant, jumbled Potter. I found my own face looming before me, and the memory began to play.

I was in Hermione’s body as I watched myself sitting at my desk, slurring my speech. I cringed internally at the feelings of shock Hermione associated with the memory. My drunken dependences really wore on my nerves as I felt the sensation of carrying my own body into my chamber from Hermione’s frame. I ran myself a bath and smirked at my own drunkenness. Good lord, Hermione’s voice echoed through my mind, he’s humming. The memory fast-forwarded, and I was straddling myself, feeling my own tongue in Hermione’s mouth, feeling my own terse body beneath me. I was disgusted and chose to delve farther into the memory, and I found myself running through the corridor, slightly cold due to lack of clothes.

I extricated myself from her mind quickly to find Hermione blushing before me profusely. I was silent for once, and we avoided each other’s gaze. I reached my hand to my neck once more and felt remnants of her lip gloss were still there. I smirked, fighting back thoughts of, Severus, you old dog, with a mental stick. I looked up to see the girl before me, and I realized that I had almost had her. Her lip quivered with embarrassment. I actually felt somewhat guilty.

“I believe apologies are in order,” I began, bemoaning my obligation to end it there.

“Oh, no,” she practically wailed at me. “You know you want this, Severus.”

I could hardly deny it; growing electricity filled the air of deeds not yet completed. She had a wild ferocity in her eyes that I stood to look into. Despite the vertigo, I was spinning, and I placed my mouth on hers. It all rushed back to me as I was intoxicated once more by her scent. It filled me with an urge to forget the third-years that would be arriving in four minute’s time.

My hands were clutching her blouse in bunches, and hers had undone a few buttons on my shirt, and she was exploring my shoulder blades. She broke away, licking her lips slowly in a manner that sent my temperature though the roof. She carefully re-fastened the buttons on my coat and stood on tiptoes to kiss me on the cheek. I watched her backside as she retreated, noting my hypocrisy on the issue.

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