A Room in the Dungeons

Snape was fuming. He hated running around after stupid little adolescents, watching their soppy little romances. He’d been planning to skip the ball, but that fool of a headmaster had guessed he would, sending his phoenix with a letter requesting (though just as well ordering) Snape to the ball. Furious, Snape had left his chambers in plain black robes to give the man a piece of his mind. Upon his arrival Dumbledore had cheerfully offered to lend him some dress robes, though after seeing the look on his face simply asked if he wouldn’t mind watching over the rose gardens. It took only one round of the gardens and more exposed teenage flesh than a man should see in a lifetime to turn Snape back to his chambers. But after fending off countless pleas from desperate teachers for a dance and slipping the reminiscing, drunk old males it was an hour and a half before Snape was back to his quarters. He cursed the old headmaster, he had left his door open, expecting to be back within minutes and who knows how many times the drunken Moody had searched his room in that time. Relieved to finally be back, and that everything was still in order, Snape stripped down to his black, cotton boxers and climbed into bed. But there was already someone in it.

“What the hell are you doing in my bed?” Hermione was still drunk and everything felt slow and heavy.
“Your bed?” She slurred trying to make sense of the situation. A light flared and an irate Snape was glaring, horrified, at the teenage girl in his bed. Hermione gracelessly rolled out of bed and stared back, terrified. She had gone to sleep in Snape’s bed.
“I-I….I’m Sorry professor.” It was the best she could come up with. Her head felt heavy and she thought she might be sick if she tried to move all the way upstairs to her bed.
“Well, you can get out of my chambers right now so I can erase this from my memory.” Hermione pushed herself up clumsily, grabbing her shoes. She took a deep breath to settle her stomach and walked head held high over to the door. Unfortunately the pride and grace was lost a little as she misjudged the opening, slamming into the door frame. Falling down on to the floor, she couldn’t push it off any longer and passed out.

Snape rubbed his temples, trying to resist the temptation to dump the girl in the lake. He got out of bed and picked her up. She was even lighter than he would’ve thought and he frowned at the glamour charms and grown up dress. Why couldn’t she just enjoy being fourteen? He sighed and pushed open the door to his quarters. Too busy shuffling up the corridor trying to stop Hermione’s head from lolling back too much, Snape missed the tell tale clunking of armour. He froze as the song reached his ears, and a terrified Snape sprinted back to his chambers slamming the door shut.
“What’s the grumpy old professor up to now? Hiding in his rooms again, I think I’ll stay here for the night!” Peeves cackled. Snape gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to hex the little bastard. Snape lay Hermione down on his couch, and then rummaged in his cupboard for a blanket. Snape had to restrain himself from banging his head on the wall as a thump told him she’d rolled off. Showing more patience than he thought was possible, Snape scooped her up, resisting the urge to throw her in the bathtub and turn the cold on full blast, laid her on his bed and covered her up with the blankets. She sighed and murmured something in her sleep. Snape shook his head, wondering how he was going to look her in the eye again. After what seemed like an eternity of dealing with the drunken teenager, Snape finally lay down on his couch and closed his eyes.

Hermione woke up, in the dark, in somebody’s bed that definitely wasn’t hers. The events of the night slowly flooded back, and she groaned. First she’d thrown herself at Viktor and made a fool of herself, and then she’d fallen asleep in the worst possible bed in the school. Thinking of Viktor made her sad, and as she thought of the feeling he’d given her when he had kissed her she wished bitterly that she hadn’t gotten drunk. She might be in bed with him right now if she hadn’t. She thought of what they could have been doing and she felt a stir in the pit of her stomach, and biting her lip she tried to ignore it. But she couldn’t help but wonder what Krum looked like naked, she figured the quickest way to stop the feeling would be to get it over with. Biting her lip to make sure she stayed quiet, she moved her hand down and gently rubbed at her opening which was already wet. She moved a finger in quickly, breath quickening a little. She moved another in and stifled a moan. She began to move them in and out rubbing at the sensitive spots she’d mapped out over the past couple of years of experimentation. She moaned barely above a whisper, and rubbed harder, working her clit her thumb and her nipple with her other hand. She came and with the greatest self control kept the noise to a small groan. She did feel better now, so she closed her eyes and went back to sleep.

Snape was wondering what would be the least painful way to burn off his ears. He couldn’t believe he’d just heard his fourteen-year-old student, doing….doing THAT. He wondered if he could ever sleep in that bed again. Getting up, he walked into the bathroom and turned the shower on hot. He slipped out of his boxers and climbed in, scrubbing his skin, feeling the need to clean the wrong-ness off of himself. He felt greatly calmed as he dried off and put his boxers back on. Slipping back under the covers he fell into a deep sleep, not even noticing when an hour later a small figure slipped under the blanket and curled up in his arms.