AN:

I would like to offer my unending gratitude to my lovely alpha-reader/cheerleader: Morethansirius, beta-reader extraordinaire: Delphipsmith, and brit-picker/cheerleader/back-up beta: Talesofsnape. Thank you, thank you, thank you, my dears! I can't say it enough, you three are totally awesome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I make no money here.

Hermione curled on her side and snuggled down into the warmth of the bed as she slowly came awake. She half expected to be confronted by a raging hangover, but that didn't seem to be the case. A mild, dull headache pounded in her temples, but nothing more.

She yawned and stretched a bit as she rolled onto her back and threw one arm across her eyes. Muzzily, she tried to recall exactly just what had happened last night. With a smile she remembered having the most realistic sex dream she'd ever had. Gods, if only it was actually like that in real life, so very wild, hot, and unbelievably orgasmic. The only problem was, the mystery lover from her dream did not seem to have a face. Clearly it was only her over active libido combined with her vivid imagination.

Suddenly the bed shifted slightly and a soft snore came from right next to her. Hermione gasped and her breath caught in her throat. Dear Merlin, was it more than merely a dream? Had she in fact had the most mind blowing sex of her life? But.. with who? Which would be worse: an absolute stranger or someone she knew? She turned warily, unsure what to expect. One of the pillow shams was bunched up between them, and she had to raise up on her elbow a bit to peek over top of it.

What she saw caused her to drop back down to the bed. A moan of horror escaped her mouth before she could clap her hand over it. Sweet Morgana, she must still be dreaming—it was more like a nightmare really. It wasn't possible—it just couldn't be!

Hermione slid off the edge of the bed, trying to make as little noise as possible. She didn't want to face him if he woke up right now. She had no idea whatsoever to say to him. She slowly backed away from the bed, glancing around frantically for her wand. She finally spied it on the dresser. Tiptoeing over she picked it up and Accio'd her things—her favorite little black dress, spiky heels, jewelry, her under things and cloak—in a shaky whisper.

All she was currently wearing was a man's black tee shirt, inside out. She couldn't Apparate from the room—a security measure—but there was no way she was taking the time to get dressed. She needed to get out before he woke up. She threw her cloak on over the tee shirt, fastened the clasp and slipped into her shoes. The rest of her things she shrunk and stuffed into her pocket. She looked around to make sure she hadn't left anything behind and quickly made her way to the door.

Just as she reached for the door knob, a voice behind her mumbled something unintelligible. Cringing, she froze and slowly turned to glance back over her shoulder. He was still asleep, half in and half out of the covers. One bare leg hung over the edge of the bed and she noticed that he still had his socks on. He mumbled something else, scratched his crotch, and rolled over toward the side of the bed Hermione had just vacated.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Hermione opened the door and slipped out, leaving Harry Potter sound asleep in the bed.

Back at her flat, dressed snugly in her favorite ragged sweat pants and tee shirt she tried to calm herself with a cup of tea, but she just couldn't stop thinking about the horror of waking up next to her best friend. Finally she set the tea aside and began to pace nervously as she tried to recall exactly what had happened. How in the name of all that was holy had she ended up in bed with Harry? Maybe nothing had happened at all. It was a big bed, after all, maybe they'd just passed out together on it. It had seemed that Harry was more tangled up in the covers than actually under the sheets. Yes, that theory was entirely plausible. The sex might have been a wild dream—that was possible—even likely—wasn't it? But if that was the case how had she ended up wearing nothing but a man's black t-shirt. A vintage Black Sabbath t-shirt, no less, she had discovered once she got home and turned it right side out. Perhaps it was something that had belonged to his dad, or possibly Sirius. He seemed more the type to follow Muggle bands of that era. Harry had probably kept the shirt for sentimental reasons.

Hermione tried to reconstruct the night leading up to this morning. Pansy had coerced Hermione, Luna, and Millie to go out with her to celebrate her promotion, to dinner and a popular new club called the Dragon's Lair afterward. Pansy and Luna worked together in the Department of Mysteries. Hermione had worked there with them until recently, (that was where they had all become friends), but about six months earlier she'd taken a job working with Professor Snape doing Potions research. Except he was Severus now—she wasn't supposed to call him professor, now that they were colleagues. Pansy's friend Millie was an Auror and she often hung out with the three of them too.

In typical Slytherin fashion, Pans had had an ulterior motive for her choice of venue. Pansy had developed a huge thing for George Weasley and had been trying to get his attention without seeming obvious for weeks. Hermione had offered to simply set the two up on a blind date, but Pansy didn't want George to know she fancied him (it would put her at a disadvantage, she'd said). Seeing a crowd full of Weasleys laughing at the bar, Hermione had huffed at her friend's Slytherin machinations: she wouldn't let Hermione set her up, yet she'd arranged for their night out to be at a club where Draco Malfoy's stag night was being held. Since Draco was marrying Ginny Weasley, it was a sure thing that her brother George would be among the guests, along with the rest of the Weasley clan, and every Slytherin known to wizard-kind, it seemed.

She hadn't been all that drunk, had she? Then again, the liquor had been flowing freely. Once the girls had been discovered at the club, they hadn't spent another sickle, as every time they turned around someone else was buying them a round.

She'd chatted with all the Weasleys, she remembered that clearly, even managed a few polite words to Ron. Although their breakup about two years earlier had been mutual, they'd just never been able to restore their old friendship. Things had been awkward between them ever since and they couldn't seem to handle the ex-lovers but now just friends kind of relationship that Harry and Ginny had.

Now that she thought about it, maybe she had actually indulged a bit more than was her norm. She'd been dancing and having fun and hadn't noticed how often a fresh drink appeared out of nowhere. Oh all right, yes—she'd got thoroughly pissed. Trying to recall exactly what had happened, she had a fuzzy memory of chatting up Malfoy's father and Severus at the bar.

Oh sweet fuck—had she actually asked Lucius Malfoy if he wanted to taste her slippery nipple? Severus had spewed his firewhisky and laughed so hard at the look on Malfoy's face that he had nearly choked. She'd never actually heard Severus laugh out loud before. When he could breathe again, Severus had offered to buy her a drink. Hermione groaned aloud, recalling that she'd turned to the bartender and told him she wanted a screaming orgasm, compliments of Severus Snape. That had elicited an explosive reaction from Lucius, similar to Severus' earlier one.

What had she done next? Oh, yes, she'd wandered off to sit with Millie, Pansy and George, forgetting to gather her drink from Severus. Not long after he'd arrived at their table with her drink in hand and his as well. Pansy invited him to sit down and before long Lucius had slipped in at the end of the table.

Hermione had danced with several of her old classmates and found herself having quite a good time. She didn't really let loose often and for some reason, last night, her natural inhibitions had disappeared. She asked Severus to dance, but he declined with a curt, "I don't dance," which actually disappointed her. When Lucius immediately offered, with a pointed remark about never turning down a lady, she accepted; Severus' eyes had narrowed and he frowned at Lucius, which had rather pleased her. Lucius took her hand and led her onto the dance floor. As they moved away, she heard Pansy speaking to Severus in a scolding voice, although she couldn't hear what was said.

Lucius, to her surprise, had some smooth moves on the dance floor, and after the first dance he held onto her hand to prevent her from leaving, as he spoke to the DJ wizard and requested a slower song. They danced again, Lucius this time holding her very close, causing Hermione to feel both aroused and apprehensive.

It was after that point that the evening began to get even more hazy.

She'd danced another dance with Lucius, one with Draco, one with Charlie, and one more with Lucius. She had returned to the table a bit breathless, and plopped down in her seat next to George. Hermione grabbed the nearest glass, over Pansy's protest that it was George's drink, and drained it in two huge swallows. Before she knew what was happening, Severus had grabbed her hand and pulled her back out onto the dance floor. Apparently he did dance after all.

That was last thing she remembered clearly—apart from the mind blowing sex dream—until waking up next to Harry this morning. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't recall how she'd gone from being on the dance floor with Severus to the room upstairs in bed next to Harry.

She could close her eyes and replay the sex dream in graphic detail, yet, she couldn't visualize her lover's face at all. Elbows resting on her knees, Hermione hung her head and buried her face in her hands. She wouldn't have shagged Harry, no matter how drunk she was... Would she? He really was like her brother; the very idea was just too disturbing.

Finally Hermione sat up and took a deep breath. She would simply put the idea out of her mind. She wouldn't say anything unless Harry did. She'd just pretend it never happened, and probably it really hadn't. After all, it most likely had been just a dream. She carefully folded up the black tee shirt and slipped it into the very back of the drawer that held her knickers and nightgowns.

Things were a bit awkward with Severus at work on Monday—her fear that he would make sarcastic remarks about her actions, made her unusually silent—but before long everything returned to normal. He would snark over something and she would snap back, She refused to be cowed by him now that they were colleagues, and things simply went on as usual.

At mid-week, Harry showed up after work for their every-other-Wednesday dinner and drinks at the local pub as if nothing had happened. This could mean one of three things: A. Harry was taking her tack and pretending nothing had happened, or B. he didn't remember anything either, or C. nothing actually had happened, meaning that Hermione was worrying for no good reason. By Merlin's saggy ball sac, she sincerely hoped it was C., but she didn't dare ask, or even hint at anything. Much better to let sleeping wizards lie, just as she had on that morning.

She didn't see Pansy for the next several weeks, presumably because she had bagged her Weasley and was spending most of her free time with him now. In fact, all of their schedules had been so busy that nearly six weeks went by before the girls finally got together again, this time for Luna's birthday lunch, on the last Sunday in March, Pansy pulled Hermione aside for a moment.

"So... did you have a good time at the Dragon's Lair last month?" she asked in a low voice, glancing at Luna to make sure she wasn't listening.

Hermione hesitated but answered honestly. "I did, but to tell you the truth, Pansy, I really don't remember much of what happened towards the end of the night. I had way too much to drink. I should have been more careful."

"You can't remember. Really?" Pansy looked nervous. "How are things going with Snape at work? Are you two getting along okay?"

Hermione eyed Pansy suspiciously at the sudden change of subject. "Yes, everything is fine at work. Why would you ask me that? What's going on, Pansy? Spill," she demanded.

Pansy shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh, I just wondered. He seemed upset when you accepted Mr. Malfoy's invitation to dance. Jealous, almost. I told him outright that if he had any interest in you whatsoever, he'd better get his act together and make his move. I said you were a catch and if he let you get away then he was nine kinds of a fool."

"Oh, my stars, Pansy. You didn't."

"I did," responded Pansy with a grin. "When you came back to the table and then he dragged you back onto the dance floor I thought he was taking my advice. You two looked very cozy out there, I must say. You were all over each other."

"Me and Severus?" Hermione squeaked. What did Pansy mean, they were 'all over each other'? That didn't sound like Severus at all. He never let loose and especially not in public. "The last thing I remember is going onto the dance floor with him..." she said, and trailed off in dismay.

Pansy nodded. "I'll admit I was a little worried about you, especially after you drank half of George's drink..." She stopped suddenly and looked very guilty.

Hermione frowned and grabbed Pansy's wrist. "What is that supposed to mean, Pans? What exactly was wrong with George's drink?" Her voice rose and heads turned to stare at them. Not letting go of Pansy's wrist she dragged her to the end of the hallway by the lady's. "Now you'd better talk fast, Parkinson, because I'm getting really ticked off here."

"I put a..." Pansy mumbled something Hermione couldn't make out, her face flushed and downcast.

"You put a what?" Hermione asked. "In where?"

Finally Pansy looked up, "I put a Lust Potion in George's drink," she admitted bluntly.

Hermione's mouth fell open in shock. "Why on earth would you do something so stupid?"

Pansy looked miserable. "I wanted him to want me as much as I wanted him."

"Oh, Pansy. You're an idiot sometimes, girl." Hermione hugged her friend tight and then held her at arm's length. "You are a catch, and George Weasley would be nine kinds of fool if he didn't want you," she said, throwing Pansy's words back at her. "And I know George Weasley. He's no fool, even if he pretends to be sometimes."

"Thanks Hermione," responded Pansy with a small smile. "Anyway, I was worried after you drank some of his drink. I didn't want to leave you there in a room full of randy guys when you were under the influence of that, so I had to admit to George what I'd done. He said he didn't feel any odd effects from the drink at all, so we figured the potion must not have been any good. You didn't have any side effects, did you?"

"No," replied Hermione. "Well, except..."

"Except, what? Were you affected by it?"

Hermione felt a flood of relief. This was proof, it must have been a dream. "I did have this very intense erotic dream, but when I woke up I couldn't put a face with my dream lover. I kept drawing a blank. Maybe if the Potion was expired, the strength was diluted enough that all it did was cause me to have that dream."

Pansy grinned. "Well, if that's all that happened I feel much better. I was worried about you for a bit that night, you were acting very out of character. I'll admit, I felt a lot better about leaving with George when Harry said he'd keep an eye on you. Come on, we'd better get back. Luna's probably wondering where we are."

Pansy turned and went back down the hallway to the restaurant.

Hermione paused for a moment before following Pansy. She didn't remember seeing Harry at all that night, until she woke up next to him the following morning. Could he have been the man in her dream? She tried to imagine Harry in that role and couldn't stop a manic giggle from escaping. No, she just couldn't see Harry and her together in that light, but now at least she had an explanation for the dream. It was just the after effects of too much to drink and an out of date Lust Potion—now she could stop worrying about it.

Hermione woke up the next day feeling a bit queasy and assumed she might be coming down with something. At least that's what she thought until she got a Floo call from Luna.

"Are you feeling okay today, Hermione?" asked Luna. "I'm just wondering, because Pansy called in sick today, and she said I should check on you. She thinks she might have a touch of food poisoning. She suspects the crab cakes she had yesterday and she said you had them too. I personally suspect the restaurant may have an infestation of mystytwisters. They get in your tummy you know and twirl all around. It can make you feel terribly queasy, but Pans insists it's probably the crab cakes."

"I did wake up feeling kind of off today, Luna. Pansy's probably right, I think the crab cakes are the most likely culprit," Hermione said with a sigh. "I suppose I know where I'll be spending my day."

Feeling worse by the minute, Hermione Floo'd Severus at the lab.

"Severus?" she called, the smoky smell of the Floo making her stomach turn.

"Hermione, why are you Flooing me? You're supposed to be here for work in just a few minutes."

"I'm very sorry, Severus. I know you wanted to start on that dual potion today, but I'm really not feeling well and I'm going to have to take the day off."

He started complaining before she even had a chance to explain why, but in the middle of his tirade Hermione couldn't take the smoky smell any more and dashed off to the bathroom. There was simply no time to close the Floo connection or the bathroom door. Sounds of her gagging and retching must have come through loud and clear.

"Uhh... Hermione? It's probably best if you stay home and get some rest. Let me know how you feel later."

She did just that, and by mid day she was feeling fine. She owled Pansy to see how she was doing and her friend confirmed that she was much better too. Hermione sent a quick note to Severus explaining what had happened and that she would be back to work the next day.

Hermione was annoyed the next morning when she awoke with the same queasiness as the day before, but she put it down to the after-effects of the food poisoning and set off to work anyway.

Although Snape technically worked for the Ministry, he was more of a private contractor and worked from home, using his own personal lab for his research. He'd sold his childhood home for a ridiculous amount to some Muggle developer who had plans to build a huge shopping centre there, and using the proceeds of that sale he'd bought a modest sized home on Aylesbury Vale. It was about halfway between Aylesbury and Winslow in the northern part of Buckinghamshire. It was a bit out of the way so he didn't have to worry too much about interference from Muggles, but just to be on the safe side, he always had Hermione Apparate to work by arriving in the back garden. His state of the art lab was located behind his home in what was formerly a detached garage

As soon as Hermione arrived she knew travel by Apparition had been a huge mistake. Her stomach roiled and she dropped to her knees with a loud moan, clutching one hand across her stomach and the other over her mouth, trying by sheer force of will to hold the sick back.

Severus, who apparently heard her arrival, threw the door open to find her kneeling on the ground. "Granger, what in hell are you doing on the ground? I thought you said you were better. You look positively green."

Hermione shook her head slightly and mumbled, "Relapse, I guess."

"I'm just having breakfast, come inside and have a piece of dry toast and some tea. Maybe that will settle your stomach," he offered as he bent down to help her to her feet.

As soon as she came through the doorway the smell of his morning fry up hit her nose, and sent her over the edge. Hermione gulped and dashed off to the loo.

Poor Severus, hearing the same sounds he'd heard through the Floo connection yesterday, but today up close and personal, must have put him off his breakfast. She could hear him scraping the remains into the bin before he followed her into the toilet. Severus pulled her pony tail back out of the way and secured it with a spell. She heard the sound of the water running in the basin and then a moment later felt a soothing cool flannel pressed against the back of her neck. Just after that he handed her a second one to wipe her face and mouth.

After a minute, when she was quite sure her stomach had calmed down, she sat back and looked up at him, her huge brown eyes slightly teary. "Thank you, Severus. I'm terribly sorry about all this. It's so embarrassing. I honestly felt better this morning, but I guess Apparating set it off again."

"You don't look well at all, and you certainly can't Apparate home when you're feeling like this. I imagine the Floo would be just as bad. Come in and lie on the sofa and rest for awhile. I still think some tea and dry toast might help settle your stomach. I'll fix you some," he suggested, helping her up from her knees for the second time that morning.

Leaning into his side as he wrapped an arm around her waist, Hermione sighed deeply and apologized yet again as he steered her toward the sofa. "I really am sorry, Severus. This certainly can't be how you expected to spend your morning."

"You would be correct in that assumption," he said, as he got her settled on the couch. He even tucked her in with a soft sage green throw before he went to get her tea and toast.

Before long, Hermione heard the kettle whistle and Severus returned, setting a tray on the side table next to her. "Try this and see if it doesn't help," he said. "I shall be in the lab. If and when you feel better, you may join me." He stalked out before she even had a chance to thank him.

Hermione nibbled on the toast and sipped her tea slowly. She dozed for a little bit, and when she woke up again she was feeling much better. Hermione felt well enough to go out and work with Severus for the rest of the day with no problem.

"I feel fine now," Hermione assured Severus as she prepared to leave for the day. "I'm sure there won't be any more problems. I'll see you in the morning."

She would have eaten her words the next morning, if her stomach hadn't been so upset. Once again she owled Severus, promising to come in a little later if she felt better, as had been the pattern for the last two days. She wondered if Pansy was having the same lingering effects from the food poisoning, but when she owled to see how she was feeling, she was surprised to get a note back from Pansy in less than half an hour.

Hermione,

Sorry you're still not feeling well. I heaved my guts half the day on Monday but I've been fine ever since. Maybe you're coming down with a bug... Luna wants to know if you've come in contact with any mystytwisters (whatever the hell those might be!). Hope you're better soon.

love,

Pansy.

P.S. I'll stop by and check in on you later, after work.

Once again, Hermione's nausea passed by mid day and she went to work.

Severus expressed some concern, especially when she told him whatever she had it wasn't the same thing as Pansy because she was all better while Hermione's symptoms seemed to be lingering. " I don't like the sounds of this, Hermione. If this keeps up, you should go to St. Mungo's and get checked out," he advised.

"I'd feel silly going there now, the symptoms are all gone. But I suppose you're right, if it's not better in another day or so I promise I'll consult a healer."

Pansy showed up that night as promised and brought take away from the Leakey. The two usually shared Indian or Thai but to appease Hermione's touchy tummy, her friend had kindly got Hannah to fix up a container of homemade chicken stew and some thick crusty bread, enough for two. It was delicious, as was Pansy's gossipy chatter about her new romance with George.

"I can't believe how happy being with him makes me feel. I would never in a hundred years have pictured myself with a Gryffindor, much less a Weasley." She shook her head ruefully. "Now I'll have to eat crow for all the mean things I said to Draco when he started dating the Weaslette."

"Hey, trashing Gryffindor is not allowed when you're sitting with one, Parkinson," teased Hermione.

"Oh, you know what I mean. I couldn't care less about all that house bullshit. Be honest though, when you were growing up would you have pictured yourself falling for a Slytherin?" asked Pansy.

"No, probably not then, but now... certainly," Hermione admitted.

Pansy eyed her speculatively. "So my advice to the professor that night didn't do any good? He hasn't made a move?"

Hermione sighed wistfully. "No, not really. The first day back seemed a little awkward but other than that he's acted like that night never happened. He was very kind to me, though, when I showed up sick for work yesterday. That's a bit out of character for him, but it was rather nice."

"It is. It shows he does care about you. He just doesn't know how to express it, I think," said Pansy as she cleared up the take away containers and gathered her jacket. "I am a bit worried about you myself, love. I don't like the way this sickness seems to be lingering on. You should get yourself checked out if you don't feel better soon."

"Yes, Mummy. Now you sound like Severus, he said the exact same thing. If it doesn't go away in a day or two more, I promise to make an appointment with a healer," said Hermione as Pansy headed for the door.

"Make sure that you do." Pansy stepped out of the door, then popped her head back in. "You know if it were anyone else, I'd be asking you if you were preggers right about now," she said with a laugh, then waved as she closed the door. No one was there to see Hermione's face go pale as she swayed and grabbed the wall to keep from falling. In an instant she was dashing into the loo to throw up all the lovely chicken stew.

TBC