A/N: This is a not very long crackfic. Most everyone is alive. Assume 7th year at Hogwarts, Voldy hasn't been defeated yet. AU, naturally. Book 7 didn't happen and neither did most of Book 6, come to think of it. Hum. Hopefully those changes will be self-explanatory as we go along.

There are some very obvious similarities to Shiv5468's story Big Name Death Eater in the first chapter but we're heading off in a completely different direction from here on out, pinky promise. I couldn't resist using that story as a sort of prompt, it's very funny by the way. The story is complete, so sit back and enjoy the ride!

/AA

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Thesis: In Which Severus Talks Too Much

Severus Snape was not having a good day. In fact, he was most definitely having a Bad Day. Although it was a Friday, which was usually good since it was one day closer to the weekend, it was still a weekday with Potions classes where the kids did their best to get themselves killed, as usual. He'd been able to take fifty points off Gryffindor from the fifth-year and third-year classes, which was good, but then even his Slytherins had misbehaved and forced him to take five points off his own house for getting caught, which was most definitely bad. The fourth-years had no style and he couldn't exactly ignore it when they made blatant plans to poison the whole school, in his own class even. To top things off, the house-elves had served Toad-in-the-hole for dinner. Severus hated toad-in-the-hole ever since his first time he got completely plastered in his sixth year, which happened to be after a Hogwarts dinner where they had served said dish. He'd spent the better part of the night throwing up the remains, and ever since then he refused to eat it. As such, he hadn't eaten much before his left forearm burned with the summons to attend his other Master.

The war had mostly stalled after that hare-brained Ministry raid two years prior, when Potter nearly managed to get his godfather killed along with getting some of his friends badly injured, including both Weasley Jr and Miss Granger. Too bad, Severus had grumbled when he heard of the mangy dog's survival, and Molly would have boxed him over the ears if it weren't for his quick reflexes. For some reason the sight of the Dark Lord duelling Albus in the foyer actually convinced people that the evil bastard was back, and the Ministry workers had rallied to put up resistance with Amelia Bones, Arthur Weasley, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Alastor Moody as the front figures. Albus had grumbled about it for a full week, complaining about his plans being derailed and the Order not being brought to order, even if he put up his usual twinkly façade whenever anyone came close. At any rate, the following nearly two years had been relatively peaceful since the Dark Lord wasn't able to get a proper foothold in the Ministry.

Severus had Apparated to Malfoy Manor, where he and the rest of the Inner Circle had spent three hours listening to the Dark Lord rambling while drinking a bit too much of Lucius' elf-made champagne. If only the self-appointed evil overlord could get to the point! He was worse than Albus when it came to holding long faculty meetings and being enamoured with his own voice. The others had reported on various activities and he himself had managed to get the Dark Lord's approval for his alleged attempts at brewing an invulnerability potion, which of course was nonsense. All the concoction would do if anyone were to drink it would be to give them horrible gas and a strong urge to sing opera arias.

After the meeting, when the Dark Lord finally fell asleep in his chair and Bellatrix took him back to his rooms together with the snake and the rat, the old guard with the usual suspects had met in Lucius' study for some drinks and debriefing where they plotted what to tell him next time. That would have been fine, had Lucius not also brought out the deck of cards.

Severus groaned again and clung to a nearby birch as he waited for the world to stop spinning after Apparating, squeezing his eyes shut against the harsh glare from the magical lanterns atop what he hoped was the Hogwarts gates. To top it all off, Lucius' bloody peacocks had attacked him on the way back to the Manor's Apparition point. Apparently they didn't like Avery's singing. Not that he blamed them, the wizard couldn't hold a tune worth a penny, but he found it most unfair that the overgrown chickens would attack him too for trying to correct his occasional almost-friend's tunes. His robes were torn, he had a gash down his cheek and to make matters even worse he had stubbed a toe on one of the marble statues in Malfoy's garden, which caused him to limp.

It took him a couple of tries to get the password right for the gates, but eventually they opened for him to stumble in under the grand portal. The ground seemed to spin and sway, all the colours of the night blending together before the cool grass came up to meet him. It smelled… well, grassy. Wet with the first promise of spring. He burped which caused other, worse, smells to assault his nose, and he had to breathe slowly and focus on not throwing up. Where was he, again? And who was he, exactly?

The sound of rapid footsteps on gravel gradually intruded on his peaceful introspection on the damp lawn. Couldn't he even get a moment of peace and solitude and let Lucius' alcohol and creatively applied curses wear off on their own? He'd be in no state to report to the Headmaster tonight, Merlin only knew what he might blurt out in this stage.

"Professor?" a female voice gasped, and someone knelt in front of him. "Oh no, are you hurt? Shall I get Madam Pomfrey?"

Black school robes laced with Gryffindor colours swam in his vision before their owner lowered herself down to his level. He tried to get his eyes to focus on the brown blur in front of him but their three — one — four eyes were too hard to follow as they moved in and out of focus.

"No!" he managed, still trying to work out who she might be. There must be a clue somewhere, she knew who he was apparently, which was more than he did at present.

"But you're bleeding?" she said.

"My quarters," he insisted. He knew that much at least. He had quarters, somewhere.

"Can you walk?" the annoyingly interfering voice asked.

He staggered to his feet and immediately regretted it when the nausea came surging back with a vengeance, drenching him in cold sweat. After throwing up against a bush he wiped his mouth and felt marginally better. His self-appointed helper Vanished the mess and took his arm over her shoulder, leading him up towards the castle.

As she led him down to the dungeons the fog in his brain slowly lifted and he managed to work out who she was. Miss Granger. Of course. Head Girl, Order wannabe, the brains and librarian of the Golden Trio. Who else? And I'm apparently, still, Severus Snape, resident Dungeon Bat of Hogwarts. Bugger. He guided her to his own chambers and managed to focus enough to get the door to recognise his touch, allowing him to stumble in and sprawl inelegantly on his dark brown leather couch by the fire, narrowly missing hitting his shins on the coffee table.

"Oooooooh," someone moaned. It might even have been him. The room was spinning.

"Professor? How are you? You're … you're bleeding, sir, can't I get Madam Pomfrey for you?"

"No, not Poppy," he managed again, annoyed that she couldn't just leave him alone, like everyone always did. Drat. He'd have to forsake the buzz of the Malfoy vineyards, since for some reason which currently eluded him he was rather certain that he shouldn't very well let students see him completely sloshed. Vaguely he conceded that it was already too late for that, but sighed and cracked an eye open. She stood next to his couch, fretting uselessly. "Accio blue potion in my bedside drawer," he enunciated slowly but swore when the bottle merely thumped against his bedroom door and clattered to the floor.

At least Miss Head Girl Granger was of some use as she immediately went to fetch the potion for him. He gingerly sat up with a groan, pinching his eyes shut as he accepted the vial from her and downed the potion in one gulp, grimacing at the bitter taste. Soon he could feel the pleasant haze of alcohol receding, giving way to the usual headaches and other unpleasantries that followed the Sober-Up potion, and unfortunately one couldn't use any other healing potions for a few hours after taking it without suffering even worse side effects. He winced and pinched the bridge of his nose. Drat. Now he'd be fully affected by Lucius' insidious curse instead.

"Not a word of this to anyone, Miss Granger," he said sternly and fixed her with his best glare, one that he'd spent years perfecting.

She bit her lip and shook her head vigorously, for once forgoing the incessant questions.

"You're bleeding, sir," she stammered again and reached out a hand towards him.

With a groan he shrugged out of the dark Death Eater robes and noticed to his surprise that he did appear to be bleeding from somewhere. Blasted birds, Lucius owed him a new set of robes and one of the nasty meddling chickens served on a platter for dinner. With a muttered wandless charm he opened the buttons on his frock coat and struggled to pull his arms free.

"Here, let me help you," she said and stepped closer, trying to be useful by pulling on one of his coat sleeves. Eventually he was free of it and dumped it carelessly on the floor next to the couch. He slumped forward, resting his head in his hands, trying to cradle the headache that was hammering away at his temple.

"Do you have any Dittany here, sir?" she asked, clearly not giving up.

This time he had better luck with the Summoning and the bottle shot into his waiting hand even without him looking at it. She gingerly took it from him and told him to tilt his head back while she unstoppered the vial and placed a hand on his forehead to steady him as she carefully directed a few drops to the gash on his cheek. Her touch felt oddly nice and despite the sting of the Essence of Dittany he found himself relaxing against her hand.

"Did they hurt you badly, sir?" she asked softly.

His eyes snapped open, seeking hers, and it took him a moment to realise what she'd been asking. "What, Miss Granger? No, it was just poker. Lucius cheated as usual, the bastard. Now I have a headache."

She frowned, clearly not believing him, but after checking that he didn't have any other bleeding wounds she hesitantly moved her hand to his temple and gently started rubbing it in circles. Someone groaned, it might even have been him. It felt divine, having her touch him like that.

"Did that help, Professor?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"Try it again, I'm not quite sure," he managed to say, quite pleased with himself for hedging it.

She moved in front of the couch and suddenly he found himself nose-to-button with a bosomful of, well, bosom, frankly, while she put both hands in his hair and started rubbing his scalp, sending shivers all the way down to his toes. The demure white blouse she wore was unbuttoned just enough for him to be able to see the tops of her breasts, a quite nice view indeed. Round and firm and if he was any judge, just the right size for his hands to cup.

"You have nice tits. Why haven't I noticed that before?"

She pulled away from him and looked at him oddly. Didn't she believe him?

"Oh, yes," he said happily. "Very very nice. I should like to get better awk… acu… acquainted with them, you know."

"You would?!" she squeaked. "Erm… Professor Snape, just exactly what did that poker game include?"

He waved a hand in her general direction, barely missing her chest. Drat. He'd been aiming for her left tit. "Lucius, the bastard, primed the cards with a slow-release version of the Unhibition Curse," he enunciated carefully. Normally, he would never have fallen for such a simple trick, but the copious amounts of drink he'd had beforehand coupled with the lack of dinner had tripped him up. The curse caused the victim to lose their inhibitions, saying and doing things that they normally never would, and for one such as himself with so many layers of secrets it was quite dangerous. It had been kept in check by his state of inebriation but now that he, unfortunately, was sober again, the curse was given free reign of his tongue.

"Oh, I see, sir," she said slowly. "But you retaliated, of course?"

He frowned at her. "Naturally, who do you take me for? I managed to sneak off to his rooms and cast a Pea Jinx on his bed. He won't be able to sleep comfortably for weeks, thinking there's a pea under the mattress."

She giggled which caused him to chuckle which in turn caused her to laugh harder and say something about Malfoy and mattresses and fairy tales which had him burst out in a deep belly laugh too. It felt oddly nice but he was a bit unaccustomed to such emotions. Still, Miss Granger was rather lovely when she laughed. He might have told her as much. Although he hadn't really thought about it before it was true. She was, all in all, a rather intriguing witch. He told her that, too.

"Um, Professor? I think you should go to bed and sleep off the worst of the curse," she stammered, blushing. "It should wear off after a couple of hours, right?"

"I should report to the Headmaster," he answered reluctantly. Albus would want to know what they'd been up to, or at least the heavily edited version, with more angst and torture and with markedly less alcohol and card games.

"Tomorrow."

"… Tomorrow."

He groaned and rose slowly. His head was still pounding, causing him to press a hand against his temple to try to stop whoever was hammering spikes through it to stop. She quickly slipped under his other arm to steady him and together they made their way to his bedroom. He flopped unceremoniously into bed, on his stomach, and Banished his clothes with a muttered spell, leaving him in only his underpants. She tucked him in and ran a hand through his hair, causing shivers to run down his spine again. He wasn't used to that kind of touch but quickly decided that he wouldn't mind more of that, thankyouverymuch.

"You know what I'm missing, right now?" he murmured.

"What is it now, Professor?"

"A witch in my bed," he said with a yawn. "My feet are cold."

"… Right. Good night, Professor."

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

Although he was deep in the bowels of the Castle, his enchanted bedroom window still woke him up with the harsh glare of spring sunlight since he had apparently forgotten to draw the curtains shut the night before. His bladder made itself known and he stumbled to the bathroom to sort himself out while events of the prior day and evening gradually started to filter back to his mind. There had been teaching, and then the Dark Lord … and Lucius … and … Oh. I didn't, did I? Surely not!

By the time he had gotten dressed, in slacks (black), a shirt (white) and a v-neck cashmere jumper (black), he had almost managed to convince himself that Miss Granger must have been a hallucination. He would never be completely plastered in the presence of a student and he would most certainly not tell the Gryffindor Princess that she had nice tits or that she should jump into bed with him. Feeling slightly more upbeat and thinking about what to tell Albus about the Death Eater meeting he entered his sitting room and froze at the sight of said student asleep on his couch, her bushy brown hair spread messily over the armrest and the green tartan plaid Minerva had given him a few Christmases ago half covering her body. She had kicked off her shoes and removed her outer robe but he could still see the contours of her breasts through her blouse. They still looked rather nice.

Swallowing audibly and forcing himself to look away from her body he stalked over to the Floo and asked the House-Elves to bring them some tea and breakfast. The noise caused her to wake with a start and she sat up, looking slightly confused before she spotted him, and blushed. Clearly she too remembered, then. Drat.

"Erm…" she said, stifling a yawn with her hand.

"Miss Granger," he said stiffly.

"Could I use your bathroom, sir?" she asked, blushing again.

He nodded and gave her directions, relieved to be alone for a minute to gather his thoughts. Why had she stayed? What was he to do with her, now? What would she tell people?

She returned with her hair marginally under control and some water droplets on her blouse, and took a few hesitant steps towards him. "Are you alright now, sir?"

He nodded and was luckily saved from more questions by the arrival of a House-Elf with tea and a tray full of breakfast items for them both. They settled down at his dark walnut dining table, clearing a space among the parchments and books for the plates, and settled down to eat in tense silence. He ought to say something, but what? Uneasily he cleared his throat. "About last night … I apologise for my inappropriate comments about your person, Miss Granger."

She blushed a beet red and cast her eyes down, busying herself with her eggs and toast. "Um, it's alright, Professor, I've read about that curse and it's not as if you'd planned for me to be here."

"No, why were you, Miss Granger?" He raised an eyebrow at her, grateful for the change in topics. Of course she'd know about the curse.

"I'd just herded some third-years back inside from the gardens when I heard a noise by the gates and went to check. And then I was worried about you, I couldn't very well leave you alone like that, Professor!"

Her statement confused him. Of course she could have left him alone, whyever not? Everyone always did, why couldn't she?

"Do I have to tell you to keep things to yourself?" he asked, glaring at her.

"Not a word, pinky promise," she said and poured some more tea for both of them. "I don't usually gossip, Professor."

He relaxed slightly and nodded, grabbing a boiled egg. For some reason he was quite hungry that morning. It was also rather nice for a change to have breakfast together with someone but away from the Great Hall where he always felt on display to the whole school and with the noise of too many students assaulting his ears. They lapsed into silence but at least most of the tension seemed to have disappeared. Yes, he thought, she was actually better company than he'd have expected.

The witch broke the silence. "So is that what you do during those meetings, sir? I must admit, I had a slightly different picture in mind than poker and pranks."

He shrugged and took a bite of his toast. "Well, various people are asked to report on whatever evil deeds they've been up to since last meeting, the Dark Lord usually rambles on about blood superiority and the Good Old Days for way too long until he gets tired and nods off in his chair, and then some of us usually meet up for drinks to cook up some new tales for the next meeting."

She giggled again before getting serious again, fixing him with those large brown eyes of hers. "But surely there must be a bit more to it than that? I mean, given everything that's happened?"

He nodded. "Yes, the Lestranges, Dolohov, Travers, Wormtail and Greyback plus a few others are people you don't want to meet in a dark alley, or come to think of it not in a well lit alley either, but Cenric Goyle would much rather spend his days tending his garden than kneeling in the mud pretending to hate everything and everyone, Lucius is tired of the drain on his finances and prefers fashion to torture, Gawain Avery has a sister who married a Muggle and has made a complete turnaround since his niece was born, and several others are also simply tired of the whole thing. Their fortunes are at stake, after all, and if you want to hit a Malfoy or Nott where it hurts you go after their Gringotts vaults."

She gaped at him, apparently at a loss for words for the first time in recorded history. He smirked at her, who knew it was that easy to get her to be quiet?

Somehow his rooms felt both smaller and colder when she'd left.

~~oo~oo~oo~oo~~

He didn't bother reporting anything to Albus and stayed in his quarters until lunchtime when he reluctantly made his way up to the Great Hall. His usual seat next to Albus was, unfortunately, still free.

"Severus, how was the meeting?"

He sighed and turned towards his employer who twinkled at him over the soup they were served for lunch. "Albus. You think this is the right time?"

Albus raised his eyebrows. Too bad they were so bushy, the effect was rather lessened by how high he had to hitch them up in order to see anything underneath. "As you didn't show up yesterday, I presumed you would have nothing to hide."

"I was in no shape to report anything to anyone last night," Severus muttered, glaring at his employer who nodded, twinkled some more and told him to come up to the Headmaster's office right away, and what did he think of chocolate toffee?

As he made his way back down the stairs from another mainly fruitless meeting with Albus where the old man had insisted that Potter needed more time, that the Dark Lord would invade Hogwarts and they should stage a massive battle, and that of course Severus ought to spend his nights being tortured for the Cause, he was in a pensive mood for other reasons. His mind kept returning to one thing Miss Granger had asked just before she left his quarters earlier that morning. "But, sir, if so many on that side also want an end to this, why are we still fighting?"