A Room With a View

No. 1 Crush

Severus was flying. He was high, high above the towers of Hogwarts, watching the sun glint off the wet tile roof of the castle and soaring through clouds. The air was cool up this high, and he found himself extending his arms... wings?... and craning his neck around to look around him. He wasn't alone. He could hear the beat of wings and rustle of feather nearby, though he could not see who flew near him... He felt comforted by the knowledge that there was someone else with him, and contented himself with listening to the rustle of feathers as he - they - floated on the breeze.

Severus awoke to the sound of feathers on the breeze and a piece of hair up his nose. Perturbed, he slotted one eye open only to find a mass of chestnut curls obscuring his vision. The rustle came up again and he sat up cautiously to glance over his sleeping companion's shoulder.

"Good morning, sleepy."

Severus hissed as he sat up, wincing at the light that filtered in through the high windows of the sitting room and at the dull ache pressing at the bottom of his skull. He felt a bottle being pressed into his hand and peered down at the pale green liquid Hermione had given him. Recognizing it as his own hangover relief potion, he removed the cork and drained the bottle before flopping onto his back and flinging an arm over his eyes.

"I hope you don't mind. I woke up feeling like death, so I raided your stash."

Severus simply waved a hand in dismissal and rasped out, "S'fine. Less talking, more shushing." He felt Hermione's shoulders shake, but she otherwise lapsed into silence as Severus lay still, waiting for the potion to take effect. As the pounding in his head began to subside, he heard the familiar rustling noise again. "What's that sound?"

"Shh. I'm shushing now. There's a hungover man in the room."

"Very funny." He rolled to his side and looked over her shoulder and saw that she was holding a sheaf of papers. "Aren't those mine?"

"Mhm." She seemed rather engrossed.

He rolled his eyes and gingerly climbed over her body. The step-dancers in his head seemed to be tiring as the potion took effect, but other needs had begun to make themselves known. He shuffled off to the loo to relieve his over-full bladder. When he opened the door to return to the sitting room and thought better of it, returning to the little half bath to pour a measure of mouth cleansing solution into his mouth and rid himself of his hungover something-crawled-in-my-mouth-and-died-there breath. Feeling marginally more human, he made his way back toward the curvy witch cuddled under the afghan on his sofa and re-inserted himself between her back and the cushions.

Hermione made a contented little sound in her throat and scooted more firmly against him. "Have you been through these?" she asked with interest.

"You mean the list of names from the 1st anniversary ball, I assume?" He draped an arm around her torso and stroked his hand over the wrinkled fabric of her blouse.

She twisted her head to look back at him. "Yes. I was wondering if you had any idea who might have cursed you."

He sighed and let his hand rest. Apparently somebody wasn't in the mood for a cuddle. "I looked through them. There's no one obvious... almost everyone there fought in the battle or works for the new ministry."

"What about the Malfoys?"

He looked down at her and pressed a kiss to her pert little nose. "It's not Lucius. He was one of the people encouraging me to come back from my travels and take care of my affairs here in Britain myself. He said he was sick of playing steward." Lucius and Narcissa were the only friends he had left outside of Hogwarts; he would bet the contents of his Gringotts account that Lucius would hex the bollocks of whomever did obliviate him, if only to have Severus owe him another favor.