The Morning After

Author's Note: As Gardengrrl13 said, never trust what someone says while intoxicated or directly after sex. Hermione, it appears, isn't exactly too confident in herself at the moment.

And thank you to everybody who has reviewed, or even read the story. The positive feedback is really helpful, and knowing that people are reading this gets me to update even faster. ;)

********************************************************************************

Light streamed through the shredded curtains as dawn broke, flooding the room and waking Snape from his sleep. Groggily he lifted his arm to rub his eyes, but found he could not. There was a sleeping body on top of it. A naked sleeping body on top of it. Remembering that night's activities, Snape almost smiled. Hermione was still there–hopefully that was a good sign. Deciding that there was nothing he could do without waking the sleeping woman next to him, Snape curled his arm around her and drifted back to sleep.

The sudden movement in the makeshift bed, however, had woken Hermione. Her vision was still somewhat fuzzy, and the first thing she noticed was the uncomfortable itching of the flannel blanket against her skin. Odd, she thought, tiredly rubbing her chafed calf, I could have sworn I had longer pajama bottoms on. Running her fingers up her leg, she stopped once she was an inch or two past her knee. There was nothing there. Shaking her head, she glanced down at herself and gasped. She was completely, utterly, stark naked. And there was an arm draped across her midsection.

With a yelp she tumbled out of the bed, clutching the blanket over her. A now uncovered and still naked Snape glanced down at her curiously before realization set in.

"W-we didn't do what I think we did, did we?" Hermione stuttered, looking down at herself, then at Snape. She was remembering it more clearly now, but it seemed more like a dream than reality. Snape nodded mutely. "I can't believe it," Hermione said, causing Snape to wince. He knew she'd regret it. "I just bloody shagged my Potions professor." Snape looked up sharply, arching a brow.

"You're not regretting it, are you?" Snape asked, his voice indifferent, but inwardly he felt sick. She'd probably hate him, now. She'd pressured him into doing it, but he could have stopped them.

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not. At least, I don't think I am. We are married, so technically there is nothing wrong in doing it. And–" Hermione fell silent, for once at a loss for words.

The couple stared at each other for a minute, neither knowing what to say to break the awkward silence. Awkward goodbyes in the morning, Snape mused, That was definitely something I didn't miss. Just then a crash downstairs snapped both of their minds back to reality.

"What was that?" Hermione asked, drawing the blanket around herself. "You don't have a house elf working here, do you?" Snape shook his head, snatching his wand up from the bedside table. But there was no need to, for a voice called out, announcing the intruder's identity.

"HELLO?" The voice shouted; Hermione recognized it instantly. Ginny! "Anyone home? Hermione? Prof, er– Snape? Anyone?"

Snape scowled, setting his wand down. That meddling little wench. How had she found out where they were? How had she gotten past his wards? Of course, Snape answered his own question, Dumbledore. The old man had probably sent Ginny along to make sure he and Hermione hadn't killed each other. Dumbledore would probably be shocked that both of them had walked away unscathed. Well, Snape thought, grinning inwardly and thinking of the array of small crescent-shaped cuts on his back from Hermione's razor sharp nails, almost.

"HELLOOOOO?"

"What the bloody hell do you think you are doing, Ms. Weasley?" Snape called back, reaching into the pile of the foot of the bed and withdrawing his trousers from the day before. Tucking his wand into his pocket just in case, he swiftly headed out the parlor door, hoping to head off Ginny before she could come in and find Hermione still sitting naked on the floor.

She really didn't have to feel ashamed about prancing around naked, after what had happened last night, but Hermione couldn't help it. Waiting until Snape was out of the room she threw off the blanket, rummaging through the pile of clothes that had haphazardly been thrown off hours earlier. She'd managed to get her panties and slacks on, before she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps coming her way. Ginny's footsteps. Her bra was nowhere to be found, and she'd never get her blouse buttoned on time. Quickly she jumped into Snape's nightshirt, seating herself nonchalantly on the couch just as Ginny strode in.

"You see?" Snape demanded angrily, pointing to Hermione, masking his surprise at her choice of clothing. "She is alive and healthy. I have not harmed you, have I, Hermione?"

"No, Severus, you have not," Hermione responded, earning both her and Snape odd looks from Ginny.

"Since when were we on a first name basis, hmm?" She accused, hands on her hips. "Hermione, he must have done something to you. Look at you! You're not wearing a bra– and that shirt!" Ginny's eyes widened. "Is that his shirt?"

Snape rolled his eyes, clearing his throat loudly to remind Ginny that he was still present. "I'll leave you two to talk. I suppose you'll have a lot to catch up on, after all, it's been almost two days since you last saw each other," he added sarcastically. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."

Ginny watched Snape's retreating back suspiciously before plunking herself down on the couch/bed next to Hermione. "Are you positive he didn't do anything? I don't trust him."

"Ginny, it's fine," Hermione insisted, thanking the gods that Ginny had not come an hour earlier. "We've...talked. Worked some things out. We can handle this, we're both adults."

Ginny did not look convinced. "Something is different about you. You're hair is all frazzled, more so than usual." Hermione uttered an angry exclamation at that comment, but was cut off by Ginny. "You're not wearing a bra, that definitely is not your shirt. And you just seem, different."

Hermione was quite aware of what was different about her, despite the fact that she had paid no attention whatsoever to Ginny's little speech. A sight had caught her eye, and again she felt butterflies in her stomach. Lodged halfway under the bed was Snape's underwear, and on the armrest above it lay Hermione's bra. Hermione forced herself to look away from the incriminating evidence, but not quickly enough. Ginny's eyes darted to where Hermione had been staring moments before, and she gasped audibly, putting two and two together quickly enough.

"You...SLEPT with him, didn't you!" She exclaimed, looking both surprised and horrified. Try as she might, Hermione could not stop herself from blushing a bright crimson color. Ginny took this to be an affirmation of Hermione's guilt and almost gagged.

"Well, are you in love with him?"

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. Yes, she'd told him that she loved him last night. But post-coital admonitions of love didn't count, did they?

Ginny shook her head. "So you shagged bloody Snape, and you don't even know if you love him? Boy. Imagine what'll happen if Harry and Ron ever find out."

Hermione's eyes widened, and she almost jumped out of her seat. "Do not, I repeat, do not tell them about this."

Ginny however, didn't look convinced. In her mind, Snape had done something to Hermione. Hermione wouldn't willingly sleep with him, no one in their right mind would.

"I'll tell Ron about the Muggle, Michael, or whatever his name was," Hermione threatened, and Ginny scowled.

"That is a completely different scenario."

"Is not!"

"Yes, it is too!"

Ginny stubbornly shook her head. Hermione sighed. She'd never been one for gambling, but she decided to throw all her cards in and just see what happened.

"Fine," she said, "tell Ron and Harry and whoever you want about it." Ginny looked smug. "But while you're at it, tell Ron that he wasn't nearly half as good in the sack of Severus was." Ginny blanched.

There, Hermione thought, looking pleased. That shut her up.