Evening Schnapps

J.K. Rowling is the owner of all except specific characters, situations, and plot bunnies that are unique to this story. I make no money, but lots of satisfaction from taking out her characters and playing with them for a while before putting them back.

Many thanks to my ubber-beta SignoraAligheri, and my sweetie Evan! They just prove that you really can’t do anything in this world without people looking out for you.

So, keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times, and here we go!


Chapter 10

Severus walked into his sitting room and picked up a bottle of Firewhiskey and a glass from the tray on his sideboard, which the house elves had left out for him. They offered him lighter fare as well, but he needed something very strong this evening.

He poured himself a glass with a trembling hand and took sip. Scowling, he walked past the couch to a leather chair by his fireplace. He stretched out his long legs onto the ottoman and crossed his ankles. Reclining in darkness without a fire in the hearth, he took slow, measured sips of the strong liquor.

His headaches were returning with a particular ferocity. He had hoped that the trip over the holiday had actually improved the problem. He had several days in a row without the stabbing pain behind his eyes and at the back of his skull. But, upon returning to Hogwarts a few weeks ago, he usually had a low-grade headache by mid-morning and it always was much stronger by evening.

Tonight however, the pain was beginning to reach the proportions he had grown, if not accustomed to, certainly to expect.

Groaning and rubbing his forehead in a futile effort to ease the pain, Severus sunk into his now traditional post-dinner funk. He would remain there for several hours, in the dark, drinking with his eyes closed.

There were nights when he did not have the luxury of retreating into his dark, secluded rooms. Nights when he was obligated to patrol the halls were the hardest. Movement seemed to make the pain worse, but approaching and passing each burning torch that lined the corridors, punctuated his rounds with an exquisite pain just behind his eyes. After he passed the light, the pain would just begin to return to a dull ache, when the next torch would come into view.

Evenings with rounds were a low point in his week. He almost always returned to his chambers and drank until he passed out, effectively severing the pain’s connection with his consciousness. He would wake the next morning just in time to stumble to the bath, shave and urinate, and still make it to the Great Hall for his breakfast appearance.

Actually, that was his morning routine, even on mornings when he didn’t have rounds the night before. The only difference was that on those nights, he actually made it into his bed before he passed out.

-------

Hermione sat in her study correcting essays from her third year Transfigurations class. This round was the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff pairing. As she worked, she took sips from a cold glass of fruit juice and vodka. The house elves had chosen to provide a tart apple cider this evening.

When she returned to Hogwarts a few weeks earlier, she had stopped by the kitchens, only to discover that very few house elves would speak with her. After a frustrating few minutes, Dobby had appeared in a lime green hat that she had knitted for him several years earlier, as well as socks, one was purple and one was an acid orange with cherry pink fringe along the cuff.

Eventually, and with much encouragement from Dobby, she got the house elves to understand that SPEW, the project of her youth was something that she had given up on a few years earlier. Once she apologized and promised that she would not be leaving any stray bits of clothes around for unsuspecting elves to find, the elves had no problem filling her order to bring chilled fruit juice to her study on nights when she did not have rounds. Of course, they still had their quiet revenge for the activities of her youth. The first night of the new service, they brought her a nice big pitcher of gooseberry juice. Unsweetened.

Hermione had laughed, once she had spit out the incredibly sour liquid and stopped coughing. House elves were pathologically obedient, but sometimes they found very sneaky ways of taking revenge.

Still, when she hadn’t complained they began to bring her tasty and refreshing juices to mix with her evening schnapps.

She sighed as she corrected the essay of Samantha McGilly; she had been sorted into Hufflepuff. Sometimes however, Hermione felt that she would have been better served in Slytherin. She wasn’t the brightest child, but had ambition in spades. Her essays were never very good in quality, but she would research difficult sources to quote from. Hermione would have to have a conference with her, soon. To remind her that she should first learn the basic information about a spell, before she attempted to expand upon the assignments in a thinly veiled attempt to ingratiate herself to her new professor.

Picking up the sweating glass, she took another sip as she sat back. She had moved the desk in the study, so that her back was to the fire. The room was cool at night and she enjoyed the warmth on her back as she worked. The intense heat from the hearth often made her a little too warm. Because of this, she enjoyed the chilled drink she was sure others would consider only a summertime drink.

She found herself settling in to her new role at Hogwarts. Honestly, she had never given any consideration to teaching. The professors had always seemed to be such permanent fixtures here, with the exception of Defense Against the Dark Arts, and she had no interest in pursuing a life at Beaubatons or Durmstrang. Of course, over the years, she had occasionally wondered what Victor Krum would have been like as a lover and if they could have made a life together. But, she had never really given him any serious consideration of such a role. She was simply too young during the Tri-wizard Tournament. He had, however, been her first snog.

She smirked as she thought back to that clumsy moment.

All evening Victor had been an absolute gentleman. Bowing at every greeting, and kissing her hand at every departure throughout the ball. At the end of the evening, he walked her back to the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. As the stood in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, he suddenly lost all the confidence he had exhibited during the evening.

“Herm-my-own-knee,” she grinned as he had obviously been practicing, “may I kiss you goodnight?” He blushed and stared at her lips, his brows furrowed tightly, focusing on them as if they were the Golden Snitch.

She had nodded, but was unprepared when he forced his face against hers. She had to tighten her neck muscles to keep her head from being slammed back against the wall behind her. Her lips felt pinched against her teeth and when his tongue pressed against them, she found herself opening her mouth to allow him entrance just to ease the discomfort. Unfortunately, she immediately wished she hadn’t. He shoved his tongue into her mouth so far, that she nearly gagged. Victor had continued to move his tongue around her mouth, sweeping the tip of it along the back of her throat and forcing her mouth open so far, that soon she couldn’t breath. But, he didn’t stop there. He kept up the long kiss until she thought she would either pass out or have to shove him off of her.

She was just raising her hands to his chest for that very purpose, when he pulled away from her.

“Victor!” she was just about to start yelling, when she caught the look on his face. It was an incredibly eager expression, and his eyes looked like that of a great puppy dog.

“Herm-my-own-knee, thank you so much for an enchanted evening. May I have permission to write you once I return to Durmstrang?” He stared down at her with such sincerity that she found herself caving in on herself.

How could she be angry with a guy who looked so hopeful?

Hermione had given him permission to write, and over the years, had managed to slowly steer him away from the idea of her as his romantic interest. He was really just interested in her because she was not falling all over herself to get to him, as the other girls were. Eventually, they formed an unlikely friendship and any romantic hopes he had for them dissipated quietly.

She pushed back from her desk, finally finished correcting the essays, and drank the last watered down sip of her drink. Giving a deep sigh, she got up and stretched. With a mighty yawn, she walked into her bedroom.

Once there, she took off her robe and draped it across the chair next to her bed and kicked off her slippers. She climbed up into the tall bed and sank down into the down mattress. She hissed as the cold sheets chilled her overly warm skin, and then after lying there in the nude long enough to get nice and cooled, she pulled up the top covers. Hermione gave another yawn as the down below her body puffed up around her, and the heavy down comforters above her sank down around her. It felt as if the bed was giving her a hug. She snuggled down into the embrace and drifted off to sleep.

-------

Severus sat at the High Table in the Great Hall, sipping his coffee and scowling at the students wandering in and sitting at their tables.

Today, he had a full schedule. He began with Double Potions of first year Slytherins and Gryffindors, followed by a double of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. He had a few minutes for lunch and then his NEWT class, followed by fifth year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors. Finally, to top it all, he had patrol duty this evening.

To make matters worse, his headache had not subsided overnight. He woke this morning, still in his chair, with the pain as strong as it was when he passed out the night before.

“Good morning, Professor”

Cringing at the overly loud greeting, Severus glared up at the speaker.

“Professor Granger.” He inclined his head to her slightly, setting his teeth as the movement sharpened the pain. After a moment longer, and another sip of coffee, he pushed back from the table and stalked out of the hall with an ugly scowl, his black robes billowing out behind him.

-------

‘Typical Snape,’ she thought to herself. Making a face, she poured cream in her coffee and glanced out over the hall. Students were eating and laughing. She felt a pang of pride as she looked over to the Gryffindor table. Minerva had asked her to take over the task of Head of House, as well as the Transfigurations position. She had admired Minerva so much growing up here, she only hoped she could do the position justice.

‘Still,’ she thought, ‘I’m the youngest Head of House that Hogwarts has ever had, there must be something to me.’ She was sure that Minerva thought she was capable. So far, there had been no real challenges. Just minor scuffles between students of different houses, and the random prank. She had survived the days of Fred and George Weasley, so the pranks seemed mild by comparison. She was however, not looking to the day that one of her Gryffindors got into a major scuffle with a Slytherin.

‘Professor Snape looks just awful,’ she mused.

She had just about settled into a belief that the nasty man had improved in the years since Voldemort’s death. However, over the past few weeks, he had rapidly returned to the dour, glaring, cruel git he always was. Even his hair had returned to the stringy, greasy black mess she remembered from childhood.

‘I suppose I should be thankful he was washing it when he came to the States,’ she thought meanly. ‘At least my pillowcase didn’t get all oily the night he slept with me. Laundry is such a hassle at the yurt.’

Hermione drew in a quick sharp breath, as she felt a peculiar twist of emotions flash briefly through her. Shame, because meanness wasn’t a part of her personality she fed often, and another darker thrill. With all the events since that night, she hadn’t given it any previous thought, but the memory of waking up with Snape’s strong arm across her waist and his rough hand resting on her belly, she felt her tummy do a weak little flip-flop.

Pushing the sensation resolutely aside, she began to dwell on her fellow Professors’ demeanor. They had spent a pleasant evening in at the little pub in Diagon Alley the day they returned to London. She had been feeling guilt over killing the Death Eaters who had found her. The Professor had somehow known exactly what to say to sooth her.

However, they had hardly spoken since her arrival. She found herself unsure if she was entirely happy about that or not. Their few days together had felt at times as if they were developing a hesitant friendship, and at other times he seemed as nasty as he had always been to her.

‘Still,’ she thought, ‘he at least looked almost healthy before.’

She looked up, and saw Minerva watching her, eyes twinkling.

‘Sheesh,’ she thought as she stood up to leave, ‘she looks too much like Dumbledore when she does that.’

-----

Severus stalked through the hallways that night, keeping a lookout for errant students out past curfew. He found a few sixth year Slytherins returning from what was undoubtedly a mischief-making foray of some kind. He had sent them to bed with a fierce scolding about allowing themselves to be caught, but didn’t take any points from them. He wanted to keep his House in the running for the House Cup. He watched as the girls scampered off towards the dungeons. Snickering, he turned and took a step down the corridor, when the first wave hit him.

------

“Would you care for another schnapps, Hermione?”

She looked over at Minerva and shook her head.

“No thank you,” she said smiling. “If I have another, I won’t be a very effective instructor in the morning.” The last thing she needed was to try and teach Gryffindor and Slytherin first years with a hangover from drinking too much of Minerva’s excellent scotch. The rivalry between those two Houses was still as strong and bitter as when she had been a student. Still, she could understand it. The Sorting Hat nearly had a stroke when it was placed on her head.

Minerva looked at her, “Hermione, have you spent any time with Severus since your arrival?”

“No,” she said frowning. She remembered what he looked like this morning. “He hasn’t exactly considered me worth spending time with, Minerva.” She scowled as she thought of all the cruel barbs the snarky bastard has hurled at her over the years.

The Headmistress chuckled as the woman’s scowl.

“Well Hermione,” she said, “it’s just that he seemed calmer and not as flint hard as he usually is, when he returned with you. I had rather hoped that found something to ease his bitterness.” She peered at the young witch over her glasses. “Tell me, what happened during those few days?”

Hermione looked at the older woman and considered.

“I had better pour us another round, Minerva. This will take a while.”

------

Severus swallowed, grimacing at the bitter sting of acid in the base of his sinuses. He leaned back against the wall and concentrated on breathing through the brutal pain in his head. After a few moments, he tried standing up straight and found that he could. He wrinkled his nose at the pool of vomit on the stone floor.

“Evanesco,” he muttered and began to move down the hallway as he placed his wand back into a pocket hidden in the folds of his robes. The rancid pool vanished behind him.

Pushing on, he moved down the corridor towards the north tower. He usually found at least two older students hidden in the dark corners experimenting with their growing sexuality. Severus wasn’t a prude, but he did take responsibility seriously. It was his job to guide the dunderheads in the school through to graduation with a reasonable number of NEWTS and nothing else.

There was plenty of time to breed like Weasleys after they graduated. He would not have any unintentional pregnancies while he was on watch. It was one of the few things that all Professors agreed with. Even Professor Flitwick had brought errant students to tears when he found them snogging in the dark halls.

As he neared the top of the stairs, the second wave hit him.

-------

Minerva sobered up a little as Hermione told her about the Death Eater attack. She had still been laughing at the thought of Hermione ordering Snape to strip down naked and have him actually do it. But at least the tears of mirth had slowed before she heard about Hermione killing seven men.

“They attacked some friends of mine, in order to find me, Minerva.” Hermione’s eyes hardened at the memory. “They hurt one of them very badly. If Professor Snape had not snuck in and administered some healing potions, I don’t know if Michael would have made it.”

She sighed and drank the last of her scotch. Setting the glass down, she looked at the older witch, waiting for her response.

“Hermione, you and Severus didn’t return until two days after the avalanche.” Minerva gave her a piercing look. “Why did Severus not return here after he healed Michael? He certainly raised enough of a fight at the idea of missing his personal research time during the holiday.”

Hermione sighed and told her of their time during the last two days of the Christmas holiday.

-------

Severus came to at the base of the stairs to the north tower. The pain in his head was now rivaled only by the pain in the rest of his body. Looking around, he found himself unable or unwilling to move, as pain lanced through his muscles. He remembered the wave of pain that overtook him at the top of the stairs, he also remembered falling as he blacked out. He must have fallen down the long flight of stairs.

Slowly, he managed to move himself closer to the bottom step, and began the arduous task of hauling himself up.

He sat on a lower step for a moment to catch his breath. His headache was as bad as it had ever been, but he couldn’t remember ever actually having blacked out from it. He wiped the tears away from the corners of his eyes that had formed there in his painful exertion. He fought to keep his breathing under control and nausea threatened to overtake him once again.

After a few moments, he took a deep, steadying breath and pulled himself up. Rounds were over, it wouldn’t do to allow a student to see him in this state.

He headed back towards his rooms. He had a few potions there that would help ease the pain. Nothing would take it away, he had learned that over the years, but he could take the edge off the nausea and enough liquor take care of the rest. At least for a few hours, until he woke the next morning.

As he moved through the corridors, he squinted and groaned as he passed each torch. He could have simply extinguished each light as he approached and lit it again once he passed it, but on an ordinary night, that would tell students he was approaching. Tonight, it was simply too much to do. He was too unsteady on his feet, and was concentrating too hard on keeping the pain in check. Sometimes it felt as if his eyes were simply going to burst away from his face.

------

Hermione walked through the corridors, mulling over her conversation with Minerva. They had taken to sharing a drink every Tuesday evening. It was a free evening for Hermione because on Tuesdays she returned the essays that she had corrected over the weekend, and assigned the next batch of homework that wouldn’t be due until later in the week. She didn’t have rounds on Tuesdays either.

As she turned the corner near the stairway to the dungeons, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She gasped as she watched a tall figure in black, waver for a moment, and then fall to the ground in a heap.

She ran forward and found Snape slumped up against the stairwell, grasping his face in his hands. He was obviously in great pain.

“Professor?” Hermione touched his shoulder, feeling the knotted muscled trembling beneath her fingers. “Come on, I need to get you to Poppy.”

The dark wizard lashed out with his hand, pushing her away. Hermione gasped as she was knocked over and fell awkwardly down several steps. After she came to a stop, her face became hardened, a deep scowl creasing her brow. She slowly pulled out her wand and pointed it at the stricken wizard.

“Petrificus Totalus,” she said softly. She watched as Professor Snape started when he heard her begin the spell, but whatever the cause of his pain, it prevented him from reacting fast enough.

“Professor Snape,” she said as she stood up and walked back up to his immobile body, “I am very sorry to have had done that, but it is quite obvious that you are in sore need of aid.”

She looked down into his frozen face and looked at his eyes. The fury in the deep black pools was apparent.

“Professor, you need help, but I won’t force you into Poppy’s care and the attention you so obviously want to avoid.” She watched as the fury in his eyes subsided, only to be replaced by pain. “That being said, I insist that I get you to your quarters and make sure you are stabilized before I leave.” She saw pain, anger and acquiescence in his eyes, and stood up.

“I know you won’t approve of this, but you obviously can’t walk, and I can’t carry you, so you will just have to forgive me.”

Hermione stood and looked down at the immobile, hurting and probably furious wizard.

“Mobilicorpus.”

------

Severus felt his body lifting and watched as the vaulted ceiling began moving by at a slow, steady pace. As he drifted past the torches mounted along the walls, the light seemed to cut through his eyes, tearing at his brain. He could not blink because of the effects of the spell, and he felt tears burning his eyes and running hotly down the sides of his face, pooling in his ears. The poignant searing pain was more than he could tolerate, but he could do nothing to stop it. His body while frozen on the outside still functioned on the inside. He could breath, his heart could beat, and his stomach could rebel.

He felt the vomit work up and flood his mouth, and he began to panic, as he couldn’t breath. He heard Granger’s startled curse as she realized his distress, and inwardly thanked her brilliant mind as she flipped his body over in mid-air. The vomit spilled out of his mouth and onto the floor, clearing his airway.

“Professor?”

He felt himself be rolled back over and watched the witch as she wiped his mouth with her robes. He could see the concern in her eyes, concern, but no pity.

‘Good,’ he thought, he couldn’t tolerate pity when it was aimed in his direction.

“Are you sure you won’t let me take you to Poppy?”

He tried to channel all his loathing and anger at his situation into his eyes. He breathed an inward sigh of relief, as the witch seemed to understand.

“Very well Professor, but you need to be still and at rest. I can’t keep moving you this way because I think you will keep getting sick,” she said. “I can’t unbind you, because I can’t carry you and you obviously can’t walk. I only have one option left. It will most likely mean you will be sick again, but only once more. I am sorry.”

Severus waited to see what she would do. He watched her as her hand drew up to his eyes.

“This is the only thing I can think of that will reduce the effects of what’s coming,” she said softly.

Severus felt her warm fingers gently drift over his eyes, closing the lids. He felt the pain in his skull diminish slightly. He waited wondering what she had in store for him. He didn’t have to wait long.

“Corpuswasi,” she called in a soft voice.

Severus felt himself hurtling through the halls; his stomach protested as he rounded corners at what felt like a fairly high rate of speed. Finally, in a mercifully brief time, he came to a rest.

He waited for his stomach to take its revenge, but it never came. Professor Granger had been correct; closing his eyes had helped.

He hung there waiting for something to happen. Finally, he heard quiet footsteps rushing towards him. He waited until he felt soft hands turning him over again. Warm fingertips brushed over his cheeks before gently lifting his eyelids. He looked up into her eyes, wondering how she would find the entranceway to his rooms. He kept the doorway concealed by spell, and warded to his presence.

His question was answered quickly.

-------

Hermione looked along the hall. When she had cast the sending spell, she had only concentrated on getting Snape to his rooms. Then she ran after his body as it flew through the ill-lit corridors of the dungeon. She knew he lived down this corridor, but had never had reason to visit him since she returned.

She realized that she was in the right place, but only failed to see the door. Pulling out her wand, she muttered “Dissendium.”

The wall right next to Professor Snape shimmered and cleared. She could see the doorway that had been hidden there.

She was reaching for the handle when she was struck with sudden realization of exactly whose door she was planning on opening.

She froze, her hand just a hairs-breadth from the handle. She could feel the ward’s faint tingle beneath her skin and yanked her hand back. She wasn’t sure what would have happened to her if she had touched it, but was certain it would have been unpleasant.

Cautiously she reached back and drew the stricken man’s body towards her. She took his head and rested it against the flat of the doorknob. Keeping one hand on his chest and carefully reaching around his greasy hair, she moved her hand closer and closer to the handle. When her hand was almost touching the metal, she paused to see if she felt the same dangerous tingle. When there was none, she completed the contact and turned the knob.

She was relieved when the door opened without incident, and drew the man into his rooms, closing the door behind her.

She moved him into the sitting room and lowered him onto the couch. She stepped back and looked around. There was a platter on the sideboard; with a pitcher of water sitting next to a bottle of scotch, a glass and on the other side of the glass was a bottle of Firewhiskey. She walked around to one of the doors off the study and found a small bathroom. Taking a washcloth from the counter, she returned to the sitting room and approached the hearth. She started a fire and summoned both the sideboard and the couch to the hearth, moving the chair and ottoman aside. She Transfigured the pitcher into a bowl and soaked the washcloth in the cool water. After she squeezed out the cloth, she wiped down the face of the dark wizard. Rinsing the cloth and squeezing it out again, she lay it across his forehead and eyes. Hoping that he would have the good sense to stay still after the immobilizing spell wore off.

------

Severus lay on the couch, waiting for the spell to wear off. He was still angry that the young witch had surprised him on the stairs. To be fair, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to make it back to his rooms. He had blacked out several more times making his way back from the tower. The pain that shot through his head at the moment Granger had come upon him was so strong that it drove him to his knees.

He was thankful that she thought of the cool cloth, but was rapidly overheating with the fire. It just seemed to make his head hurt worse. The loud crackling as the wood pitch burned felt like nails being pounded into his head.

Finally, Severus felt the spell waver and dissipate. He lay there a few seconds longer before he summoned the strength to move. He sat up and grabbed the shocked witch by her arm as the cloth fell from his eyes.

“You had no right,” he hissed evilly at her. “No right to bind me and make my decisions for me.”

He felt his fingers sink into the muscles in her arm and tap the bone underneath them. He scowled as she cringed at the pain.

“But Professor,” she winced, “you didn’t want to go to Poppy, and you needed the help.”

He glared at her.

“If I need help, I will ask for it, Granger.” He summoned the last bit of strength he had and threw her off the couch and away from him. “Now, GET OUT!”

He watched as she straightened out her robes and glared at him.

“FINE!” she yelled and stormed out of his rooms.

He cringed at the loud sound of his door slamming and brought his hand to his forehead. He extinguished the fire with a wave of his wand, leaving the room in darkness.

“Accio Firewhiskey,” he felt the bottle land in his hand and took a long drink before collapsing back onto the couch.

-----------------------------

A/N: Ah yes, finally back at Hogwarts! I’m still trying to keep up with two chapters a week, but it might slow to one. I’ve got an absolutely insane schedule at university this term. But, I’ll keep up on two as long as I can.


Spell note:
Corpuswasi- Derivation of two canon spells. Corpus; body, from Mobilicorpus. –wasi; from Waddiwasi, sends/throws object at high rate of speed to desired location.


Heartlight- thanks! I will!

Sheedy- oh, I don’t see this stopping any time soon. ;)

Pickles87- Haahaa! I guess the return of the Greasy Git might signal the end of that softening, perhaps? >:D 5am? Holy Odin! That’s terrible! Poor guy.

Estella- Citrus? Patience, Bubala, patience! No, really, it’s coming. As for my last response? Well, it’s just one of my favorite dyslexic quotes, another is “Dyslexics Untie!” I know, I know… bad, really bad. :D