No reason to celebrate

AN: First of all, thank you sooo much for all your lovely reviews. I just love them (maybe I am an addict myself *grin*). From here on, the updates will slow down a bit, because the subject is not a very easy one, I have a fantastic beta at \'my side\' that is checking first and I have to give him the time for it and I am indulging in another story that is post HBP. But don\'t worry, it will continue! Just not a chapter a day, so to speak.

Love you all, and here comes the next chappie.


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Draco had been staring at the parcel near his feet for over an hour by now and had contemplated on his and Harry’s conversation, if one could call it that. His snottyness had been totally uncalled for and he knew it. Worse than this realisation was the fact that he couldn’t bring himself to apologise to Harry. At first he could hear Harry move about in his bedroom but it had grown quite over the last half hour and Draco figured that the dark haired man had gone to sleep. Maybe he should speak to Harry first thing in the morning to solve this matter. Yes, that would be best.
A sudden loud clanging noise and then the sound of something rolling on the wooden floor pulled Draco from his thoughts. It didn’t really unsettle him that something had obviously fallen to the ground but the eerie silence that followed it. Wouldn’t Harry moved towards the fallen object and pick it up? But no creaking floor board or the soft patter of feet were to be heard. The face still tilted upwards, listening intently, Draco got up from the couch and quickly moved upstairs, down the hall towards Harry’s bedroom. No sound whatsoever emitted from inside the room and the faint odour of alcohol drifted to Draco’s sensitive nose, coming from behind the door.
Worried he knocked more forceful than he had intended and listened to any sound that might be coming from inside the room. Nothing happened and after having waited for over two whole minutes, Draco rattled at the handle, but the door wouldn’t budge. Knowing, that it would surely be locked with a spell, Draco drew out his wand and started casting spells hectically. The fourth try was successful and the door burst open, nearly shattering with the force in which Draco had cast the spell.

Immediately after the door had been breached, the smell of fresh alcohol intensified and Draco nearly stepped backwards instead of forwards into the room. Inside the room was dark, the curtains were drawn and the only source of light was coming from the hallway. With quick steps Draco crossed through the room and tore the curtains open, instantly spinning back to scan the room, now that the light of the setting sun illuminated the place.

At the first sight, all seemed to be in a normal state. Some clothes were hanging over an armchair in the corner, the door to the bathroom was slightly ajar and here and there Draco could see papers and books lying on the ground or on the small tables standing near the chair and bed. The moment his gaze had reached the bed, his breath stopped for a second and his eyes widened in shock.

His eyes closed, hair in a worse disarray than usual and the clothes crumpled and half way ridden either up or down his torso, Harry lay motionless on the bed. His head was turned sideways, a trace of slimy, yellowish liquid dripping down from his lower cheek, ending in a puddle of vomit. Draco screwed up his face and had to force himself to step nearer. Swallowing continuously, he muttered more than speak well pronounced a cleaning spell to get rid of the offending mass beside Harry’s head. Though it didn’t completely get rid of the smell as well, Draco felt a whole lot better as he carefully approached the crumpled form of his former school rival and anxiously checked if he was still breathing.

Harry’s breath was coming in short, uneven shallow gasps and he seemed to be completely taken out. ‘Near unconsciousness’ Draco thought bitterly and with an expression of utter disgust carefully turned Harry into a prone position, making sure that the Gryffindor’s breathing eased a bit. He secured Harry with some cushions, not wanting the dark haired man to roll back onto his back by accident and straightened up again.

With slightly shaking hands, the Slytherin sat down in the chair near the bed and watched Harry for a few long minutes. So many different kinds of thoughts and emotions ran through his mind and body right now, that Draco wasn’t sure how to act on them. On the one hand he wanted to get rid of this ‘problem’ once and for all as soon as possible, but on the other he truly pitied Harry and wanted nothing more than to help him and see him through this. But how could he do this without showing any signs of weakness himself. What would other people think if he was to nurse and pamper Harry back to health.

It had suddenly become obvious to Draco, that Harry had indeed a heavy drinking problem. There had been signs earlier, but he hadn’t paid any attention to them. The first night where they had gone to that restaurant, Harry had indulged in about five or six glasses of wine. Also the same when he had moved in with Draco, not to mention the whole bottle of Whiskey and the amount of Champagne he had drunk earlier this day. It all summed up. Summed up to a very nasty drinking problem. But when did it occur? When he was upset, lonely or always? And what could he, Draco, do? Were there any cures? He had never even bothered wanting to know things like that.

While watching the pale, tired and slightly sagging face of Harry, Draco pondered the ifs and whats. Should he just call the local magical hospital? Or try and pretend he didn’t know? If he actually decided to help Harry, would it affect his working schedule, his oh so holy private life? Would Harry even accept the help. Did he have a chance to overcome his addiction? And who could help? Who would know of possible cures or ….. or potions? Potions! Maybe that was the solution.

Taking a deep breath Draco braced himself and stood up. He cast a light immobulous on Harry, preventing him from moving or even getting up and made his way to the ground floor. He quickly checked with the department for the floo network and asked for the address of the Institute for magical research. Once he had the correct location, Draco put on his robe and stepped into the fireside, ‘Magical Institute’ he said out clearly and vanished form his home and also France.

Trying desperately to shake the sot off his robe, Draco stepped out of the fireplace inside a cosy looking office and was greeted by the warm smile of an elderly woman who looked like she had been expecting him. But then again, Draco was sure that she would look at anybody like this. Maybe it was her job to expect visitors on a late Sunday afternoon. Sunday! Draco mentally slapped his hand to his forehead. What had he been thinking. It was one thing that most of the shops in the Rue Lourdice were open on a Sunday, but another when it came to an Institute for research. Naturally nobody would be here now. Nobody but the friendly old lady. Trying to gather his wits, Draco put on his most winning smile and boldly stepped forward.

“A very good day to you. I was hoping that you could help me. I would like to speak the one Severus Snape.”

“Good afternoon,” the older lady smiled, “and you would be?”

Draco had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, knowing that his name was still not the most liked one in Britain. “Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.”

The smile on the wrinkled face faded immediately. “Oh.”

“So.” Draco made his smile a bit warmer “do you think you could help me?”

“Mr. Snape will be here again tomorrow. You can call his secretary and ask for and appointment.”

“Tomorrow? Hey,” Draco dropped his false smile and his face turned to stone “listen, this is important. Very important. A life might depend on it. Now, where can I find my Godfather?”

“Your Godf…..”

“Yes, my Godfather. Tell me, where does he live?”

“Ivy Lane number five.” She stuttered and quickly continued. “But I suppose it will off the floo network right now. They like to have their privacy on weekends.”

“So, how can I get there?”

“During the week there is a transportation by bus, but on a Sunday…..”

“For Salazar’s sake. There has to be a way to get there!” Draco fumed.

“You could walk?”

“Walk?” the mere idea was preposterous, but Draco that he wouldn’t have any other chance and with an expression of disgust asked for directions.


Letting his pent up anger direct his stride, Draco literally stormed along the roads and smaller lanes the woman had spoken of. It was a nice area down Ivy Lane and Draco noticed that it was obviously a purely wizards living area. The houses were of so many different styles and shapes that a muggle would believe himself in a fairytale. Most likely the area was somewhere protected by a spell, hindering muggles to come here.

The house number five was located near the end of the lane and looked like some doll house. Slightly playful, the shutters painted in a pale apricot colour, behind the windows Draco could make out fluffy white curtains and in front of the house was a wonderfully kept, colourful garden with all sorts of flowers and plants.

Draco stopped dead in his tracks. Snape was living HERE? No way. Then he suddenly remembered something that stupid old bat had said. “They like to keep their privacy”. They?!?

With most determined strides Draco moved through the garden and knocked loudly on the front door. At first nothing happened and he was already wondering if he should go around the house and see if there was a backdoor or something, when suddenly the door before him opened and a rather dishevelled looking Snape, still gathering a dressing gown around his thin waist opened looked at him with wide eyes.

“Severus?” Draco stammered.

“Draco!” Snape sounded no less surprised.

“I am sorry to disturb you.” Draco tilting his head sideways looking his Godfather up and down in mild astonishment.

“No, no. I was taking an afternoon nap. Not to worry. What can I do for you?”

“I need to talk to you. And maybe you can help me, but won’t you let me come in?”

“Oh, yes. Sure. Sorry.” The dark figure gave way to a hallway that had one door on each side and an open end to the living area.

“Thanks.”

Snape ushered Draco towards the living area, when suddenly the door to the right opened and a no less debauched Hermione stepped out of it, her dressing gown hanging open revealing her shapely figure and parts that Draco most definitely didn’t want to see.

“Snips?” she asked confused and suddenly shrieked when her eyes fell away from Severus face to the person standing behind him. “Uh! My…., sorry. Ahem, well see you in a bit.” She banged the bedroom door closed.

“Don’t forget to breath, Malfoy!” Snape grumbled as he moved on into the living room.

Draco still stood frozen to the spot, staring at the now closed door, where Hermione had just vanished.

“Draco!” the old well known thunder of his former potions teacher bellowed through the hallway.

Like being in trance the Slytherin walked into the spacious room and found the menacing figure of his Godfather reclining on the couch on the far wall. “Sit!” he ordered in a dangerous voice.

Draco immediately obeyed like he always had and stared wide eyed at the older man. “You and Granger?” was all he could utter.

“I’d rather not discuss my private life with you right now. You said you needed help.”

Before Draco could answer, Hermione stepped into the room, her hair tight in a low ponytail, dressed in jeans an t-shirt. She smiled carefully at the two men and asked in her most diplomatic way “Tea anybody?”

Snape’s usually stern face softened when he looked at the young woman and nodded. Draco could only managed to croak a feeble “Yes” and continued to stare at them.

“So,” Snape started again. “You think I can help you, With what?”

Only slowly Draco’s mind refocused on the original cause that had brought him here. Hardly able to take his eyes off the brown haired woman he could see puttering around in the kitchen, he cleared his throat and started to tell Severus about his dilemma.

“You see, I have this friend. Recently I noticed that he has an obvious drinking problem. I didn’t think it was too bad, but he visited me on this weekend and now he is lying in the guestroom half unconscious and I would like to know if there is an easy way to help him out of it?”

“A friend?” the potion master sounded sceptical.

“Well more a casual acquaintance. No, not what you are thinking. He is none of my bed buddies. Anyway, I don’t like having him in my house puking all over my furniture.”

Before Snape could answer, Hermione came back into the room, balancing a tray with three large and steaming tea mugs on it and after she had given each one, sat down directly beside the former head of the Slytherin house and looked at Draco quizzically.

“I am surprised that you want to help him yourself. Why don’t you just call the nearest hospital?”

“Oh, sure. And have everybody know, what kind of company I keep. I have a reputation to keep. As you know by now, I have a high position in the French ministry of magic.”

“So you want to keep it hushed up?”

“Sort of.”

“Well, in the muggle world, that person would have to undergo a very unpleasant treatment, a so called detox. Afterwards it is still a very long way of becoming a none alcoholic.”

“I don’t have that much time. Isn’t there a magical way?”

“If I am allowed to have my say at last, I could tell you of a rather unorthodox way.” Severus growled.

t.b.c