Snape, Pissed Out of his Mind, Just After...

"My yes, well... this is lovely." Severus visually scoured the room for imperfections and settled on belittling his know-it-all the old fashioned way, through lack of sexual prowess. At least she knows how to clean properly after being rubbish in bed. But then again, with her upbringing, it isn't too out of character, is it?
He rubbed his beleagured scalp and dosed himself with a dreamless sleeping draught until his eyes began to wobble with the ghosts of his far-fetched past. Instead of wallowing, Severus could have been having a long soak in the prefect's bathroom, flirting with the stain glassed mermaid and singing in melodious screaches, being welcomed to the bottom of the tub that was as large as a lake.
"I know perfectly well she used a wretched scouring charm... it's just so nice," he groaned as he rose up on his poor right leg -- the one nearly blown off after the war when he saved Saint Potter within an inch of his overpublicised life.
Severus scribbled the last few pieces of his fragmented memory down and gasped as he was tormented by another piercing pain down the shaft of his very svelte quadrocepts.
"I suppose it doesn't hurt that much, considering that I still feel chipper enough to write such banal musings down to momentarily amuse myself before the terminal pain of self-sacrifice without any proper acknowledgement sets in again. OH WELL!"
With romantic swagger, suddenly Severus was ensnared by the unfulfilled passion he had so longed for as a boy. His only love lay idle -- bone idle and frizzified to be honest -- causing an momentary eruptions of the ceiling drywall as she blow-horned her way through her sleep.
"But I am not a student anymore and tonight, I did douse myself in the torching beauty of the brightest heart of the life I've known - and I held onto her wand-hand as well, as she trembled and I remained placid yet rife with ambivelence as always," Severus reminisced about their first few nights together when she was but a child, and he, a raving servent of the dark lord. He missed the techno.
The sun set stiffly and without any disclosure as to why the stars shone just a little too brightly. Morning struck our Severus harshly and with the crinkling of paper as Hermione read over those very superfluous words he had composed about her shoddy horizontal aptitudes more than having anything remotely to do with cleaning in actuality.
"If you don't appreciate my "scouring" skills, then why don't you have at it yourself -- have a go, make an effort at least!" Hermione puffed at the nauseating stench Severus had achieved in lazing about all the sloth-long day on his third day off in the midst of Chrissy hols.
"Don't continue fooling yourself, my delightful little chia-pet!" He snapped and graced her with his putrifying presence of a vodka-whisky-tequila cocktail, which happened to swell her eyes into watering globules of brownish grey just as soon as he first exhaled directly following "chia-pet".
"Dear Haegl, Sev -- get yourself together! It's been years since you've permitted yourself such a dismal slouch in commonly upheld sanitary standards and I for one am appalled."
"Oh yes," the breathing grease ball shmoozed in the sensual tone of a man slithering his way out of housework, "I'll readily comply with a bit of personal care by your hands any day, Granger."
Severus couldn't be bothered in summoning Dobby in to fix him his charred tomato coolie and brie sandwiches he usually partook of at breakfast just like momma used to make him, so he langourously made haste in trying to seduce his buxom wife.
"Get off of the sofa, Severus. The stench is bound to settle--"
"Well, sweety, you can settle into my stench any day of the week," and with a quirky howl of a mating-song, Severus unleashed his mighty cock so that it jiggled with some serendipitous rhythm unsurprising for the 40 year old sprite-monger, who had unreservedly leeched and genuflected upon the delicious hits of the eighties and nineties, bouncing merrily along to "Can't Touch This" by M.C. Hammer. Sans wacko pants. Severus' pants as Hermione was fully and frankly mesmerized by from the first enchanting clamour of cheap synthesizer, were anything but wacko. Indeed.