(Untitled)

[thegooddrjones]

Who: Martha and Snape. (Closed)
What: The Morning After Masquerade Party
When: Day 54, morning.
Warnings: Well... it starts with them naked and in bed.
Notes: Memory loss plot is a go.

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[emptyyourself]

When she shifted, his first conscious thought was, "Oh, no. Not again."

Two months ago (for him), he had a very similar experience to this. He had been sleeping very soundly, only to come awake all at once with the realization that someone was in bed with him. Last time, of course, he had the benefit of remembering how they got there.

He did remember everything from the moment they arrived at the flat (and everything that followed) - but working backwards from there, he could only recall stalking away from her as she danced and flirted with Sirius Black. Everything in between was gone - a void where there ought to have been...at least a reasonable explanation for why she was now in his bed. Nude. Again.

It might have been liquor, but he didn't think blackouts worked in quite that way. To his credit, he didn't panic this time. He'd been wanting this, of course, but with the added provision that she choose him over the Doctor. And at the moment, even that provision was not quite so important as it had seemed the day before. There

[thegooddrjones]

When her pillow attempted to move, Martha tutted grumpily, and she mumbled a bit. Why was he moving? He didn't need to be moving, did he? No, she really didn't think that he did. She blinked a bit, looking up at him, one eye closed against the sunlight. After a moment, she paused and there was a very lazy and bright smile. It was the smile that she'd used the last time they'd been like this, only without the morning panic.

Hopefully anyway.

Martha remembered getting here, and she remembered kissing him, and she'd remembered choosing him, but she had forgotten something else entirely. Picking him over the Doctor had been effortless, really, mostly because she hadn't remembered the bit where he had shown up, so she didn't remember not talking to him about things. Her voice was low, and it was teasing. "Are you going some where, Severus?" Her tone suggested that she hoped that he wasn't. It was a moment before she realized that there might be some panic involved.

[emptyyourself]

He paused when she mumbled, looking around for a pair of trousers rather than observing her (which he really ought to have been doing, come to that). His arm was still caught under her, but with some luck she'd -

The tone of her voice when she spoke stopped him entirely. She didn't sound like there was any issue with this. She sounded happy.

He couldn't remember what had happened last night, but something in the way she said his name made him nearly light-headed. That would be his better judgment clouding up, he suspected. The same better judgment which was telling him to get dressed and find some answers about the hole in his memory. The better judgment which was the only part of him that didn't want to stay with her, right here, until she decided to have done with him.

A moment of indecision passed as he desperately searched for any other reason to leave, he replied, "No. I'm not going."

[thegooddrjones]

"Good." Martha sounded amused and she wiggled over so that she was situated more fully on his chest. Her arms folded over it, and then she dropped her chin against her arms as she watched him with a smile. A part of her suspected that he was lying though, and it made her more self-concious than she'd probably would have been otherwise.

She lowered her voice a bit, at the same time she dragged the sheet up slightly with the back of her heel. "I'd hate to think that I'd run you off, my Severus off." Her fingers traced little circles, against his skin, moving nervously in figure-eights. Now that she was more awake, she was remembering the manner in which he'd rather completely freaked out when they'd woken up in bed together before. At least he hadn't leaped out of bed.

At the moment Martha was remembering the way in which he'd reacted when she'd said it last night. The thought of what on earth could have happened last night at the party was a fleeting one; right now Martha didn't particularly care.