Professor Hermione Granger clicked along at her Headmistress’s side through the winding castle towards the dungeons. They were looking for Professor Snape to talk about preparations for this year’s dueling club, which the three of them usually participated in organizing before the start of the semester.
“He is usually down in his office around this time,” Minerva commented with a frown. The man, however, was nowhere in sight. His office was vacant.
“I thought for sure…,” Minerva said, scratching her chin in thought.
“Shall we check the library?” Suggested Hermione.
But the library was empty. So they set out to wander around until finally, hope presented itself in the form of the door to the room of requirement, which had recently taken to popping up anywhere in the castle when needed.
When they opened the door they were met with the deep timbre of his enraged yell.
“FUCK!” Hermione and Minerva both have a little jolt.
“What was that bullshite?!” The man raged. Severus was an angry man, sure, but he was more the cold and calculating type, so it was frightening to hear him yell.
Alarmed, Hermione made eye contact with Minerva, who shared in her worried expression. Cautiously, they stepped into the small hall the room had conjured and silently stepped through the dark passage toward a bright artificial light.
The disaster that the women beheld when they reached the threshold made them pause. There were wrappers and crisp bags about. The lights were off and the TV was glaring. ‘Is that Dark Souls?!’
And then her eyes landed on the couch.
Severus Snape, surrounded by soft blankets and pillows and clad in shorts and a white t-shirt pocked with crumbs and oily stains, stared slack-jawed back at them. An open bag of crisps rested against his belly as he lounged like a sack of man on the couch holding a muggle video game controller. He looked as shocked to see them as they were to see him.
Hermione blinked rapidly as she tried to take the scene in.
“Severus?” Minerva asked tentatively.
Looking suddenly startled at the sound of her voice, the man scrambled to his feet as if remembering himself. The moment sent the bag of crisps and many blankets spilling onto the floor.
Having only ever seen him in his priestly robes, Hermione was entirely unprepared to discover just how hairy this man was. It covered most of his now visible, long limbs. Some even attempted to escape over the collar of his t-shirt. She tried not to look alarmed.
“Professors.” He greeted them curtly, attempting to engage his grim potion’s professor facade though the sight was entirely undermined by the crisps that still clung to his belly and the bright green gaming headset over his ears.
Hermione and Minerva both glanced around the room looking utterly flabbergasted.
“Have… Do you…” Hermione searched for the words, looking back and forth between Severus and the videogame on the TV. Her eyes landed on Severus as her brain finally processed what she wanted to ask. Severus grimaced in anticipation.
“Do you have Minecraft?”
~~~~
Filius strolled down the hall in search of his Headmistress. The woman had all but vanished after leaving with young Professor Granger to fetch Snape. Where could they possibly be at this time of night? He hadn't seen them return to the faculty tower.
To his left, the come-and-go room heeded his call. Ah, of course. No wonder he couldn’t find them. They must be having a discussion in private about –
“HAHAHA –” The sinister drawling cackle of a villain met his ears as he cracked open the door.
‘ Snape?’ Filius recognized with a start. The man never laughed. Not like that.
“You brute! You’ve trampled my potatoes!” Came Granger’s familiar dainty voice.
‘Potatoes?!’
“Pitty. I suppose you'll just have to starve.” The man’s voice said cruelly.
“You’re incorrigible!”
“I think I’ll set your house ablaze.” Snape’s dark voice threatened with a devious chuckle.
“No!! No!!!”
At the sound of Granger's desperate cries, Filius sprang into action, sprinting into the room in a panic to defend her from whatever torment the Ex-Deatheater was inflicting on her.
“Stop it, STOP!” She cried, and Snape laughed that cruel laugh again.
Filius slid to a halt.
Instead of some gruesome scene, he found himself facing three surprised faces — one of which was a cat’s — in a room that looked like it had been destroyed by a small army of teenage boys.
The lights were dimmed. Illuminated only by a large television on the wall. The back of the couch was draped in their day clothes. The coffee table in front of them was covered in sweet wrappers, a couple of pizza boxes, and two glasses (and a saucer) of wine.
His gaze shifted slowly around the faces. Granger and Snape sat on a large couch looking far too comfortable in large muggle shirts and draped loosely in blankets. Each held some muggle contraption and wore matching expressions of surprise. Snape was cradling a bottle of Ogden’s in the nook of his arm.
Everything seemed to be flipped on its head. Two of the most snooty professors in the school were lounging in scraps and rolling in blankets together. Snape had so much body hair one might mistake him for a Sasquatch, and Granger's shorts could barely be seen from under her oversized shirt — a shirt that is coincidentally the same size as Snape’s! — and the headmistress is doing catnip off some ancient, priceless Gryffindor rug!
“Sorry! I heard shouting, but it appears I’m interrupting a spot of muggle debauchery.” He chuckled nervously. “Forgive me. I’ll leave you to it!” He said as he backed out of whatever distorted reality the room of requirement had dropped him into.
Inside, they all turned to look at each other. Snape shrugged, the cat blinked, and Granger grinned, then they broke into laughter and continued on with the muggle debauchery.
Mysteriously, those three continued to vanish once a week far into the start of the school term. No one else had a clue where they went or what they got up to.
Staff gossiped. They thought It had to be something boring considering this was severe McGonagall, dour Snape, and swotty Granger. They couldn’t possibly get up to anything interesting. If only they knew.
Filius knew.
And Circe he wished he didn’t.