A Room With a View

Ringa Ding Ding

Several hours after retiring to bed with his love (his love!), Severus awoke to the realization that there was a very real chance that he was willingly submitting himself to choking awake on Hermione's hair each morning.

Honestly. How did he manage to inhale one of her curls every time they slept together? Considering the law of large numbers, you'd think he could manage to wake just one morning without a hair lodged in his throat, his nostrils, or - Gods - between his fecking arse cheeks. Shaking his head in bewilderment, he glanced toward the window and realized that his sleep had been disturbed not by the warm witch in his bed but by some rather annoyed shouting coming from his sitting room. Wand in hand, he slipped from under the sheets and padded to the loft railing to see what was causing the disturbance.

"Severus Snape, don't make me apparate in there. Answer me, you impossible man!" Minerva McGonagall's head was poking up in his floo, her hair still clearly braided for bed.

"Why on earth are you shouting at me on a Sunday morning, Minerva?" Severus growled from his perch.

"Because you've visitors waiting in my office, you grumpy Gud! Kingsley and Potter are waiting for you, so get a move on. I'll expect you in a quarter hour. And bring Hermione!" Without further comment, the Headmistress' head disappeared from view, dragging the crackling green flames with it.

Severus scrubbed a hand over his face in confusion and flicked his wand to check the time. Seven in the morning. Hell. He wondered idly if rude awakening was considered a plausible excuse to maim the Boy-Who-Disturbed and his frisky Ministerial sidekick.

"There'd better be tea," he grumbled as he dragged himself back toward the bed and poked at Hermione with his wandless hand. 

He received only a "mmmrmf" in reply.

"Wake up, Hermione. Minerva wants us."

"Sssplmmmpt." She rolled over. One curl was glued to the side of her face.

With an aggravated huff, Severus leaned forward and shook his bedmate. "Come on, sleepy head. We have to be downstairs in fifteen minutes."

He was rewarded with a semi-comatose snort.

That's it. Gloves are off. "Hermione! You're late for your Transfiguration NEWT!"

"WHAT?!" She sat straight up in bed, hair and eyes equally wild. "Where's my skirt?! I need my skirt! Hand me my robe!" Severus merely stood back as he watched a half-awake Hermione dash about the room, looking for her missing Hogwarts robes. She'd managed to pull on his bathrobe before she realized where she was. Her eyes narrowed at him and he held up his hands in a sign of surrender.

"Minerva wants us. Now."

"Hmph. Fine. You're still a bastard and you will pay for that later. Now where the fuck did you put my clothes?"

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"Good morning, Severus, Hermione. Tea should be along in a - thank you, Marzipan." Minerva's personal elf set a small tea service in front of her desk. Percy Weasley moved from his post hovering at the Minister's shoulder and busied himself preparing and serving tea for Kingsley, then Minerva and Hermione. With a roll of his eyes, Severus moved forward and poured a cup for himself, wondering for a moment if he could just stick his head into the vessel and absorb the caffeine through his skin. Kingsley watched Severus silently, a look of concern on his face.

Potter, of course, was somewhat less than patient. "We wanted to talk to you both about last night," he said. "Deforge and I stayed up most of the night and cross-referenced the list of attendees at the Malfoy's ball with the reduced list from the Ministry." He glanced at Hermione, who merely nodded for Harry to continue.