Bleed Me An Ocean

A/N: This is really more of an interlude than a chapter, but there are parts of it that work with the storyline and are necessary. This was so much fun to write, too. The words "unholy glee" come to mind when I think about it. :D

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Harry tottered his way through Hogwarts, happily mulling over his latest conclusion, stopping in his thoughts only to pull from the bottle that he'd dig from his pocket occasionally. Eventually his rambling led him to the dungeons. First he explored the bathroom he'd found Draco passed out in that night, going over that evening in his mind with a wry smile. However, before he was even fully aware of it, his wanderings had pulled him further into the dungeons, to the disused parts. As he walked around the dank maze of stone and mold, he hoped he didn't get lost. Harry supposed a simple "Point Me" would lead him back out, but the idea of being lost down there at all gave him chills.

As ever, his natural curiosity began to get the better of him and he began trying doors here and there, anxious to see what lay behind them. Much to his chagrin, though, most of them would not open. Alohomora didn't even work. Harry couldn't figure if it was rust or simply that they were locked and warded more strongly than such a simple spell could undo.

Finally his luck began to change for the better. He found that the farther he went, the more dilapidated the doors became, so eaten with rot that usually a firm twist of a doorknob was sufficient enough to fling them wide open. A couple even promptly fell off of their hinges with a loud crash that made Harry flinch. He realized he was now in the holding cells of the castle, long ago abandoned for the pursuit of more just punishments. Many still held manacles and chains, rusted and decrepit with age now, but no less unsettling to look at. Harry thought he may want to read Hogwarts: A History after all, then decided against it, choosing to ask Hermione instead.

After about an hour, Harry happened upon a room with the door hanging by one rusted hinge. Delighted at the idea of being able to just waltz into a room, instead of casting spells and worrying at knobs, he strode in. He stopped dead when he saw none other than Professor Snape standing there. He knew he was done for as he stared at the professor's back. He may've been wearing his cloak, but for fuck's sake, he'd also been making one hellacious racket. Banging on doors, stumbling over his own two feet, giggling loudly when he happened to startle a pair of rats. Harry Potter was a dead man, no doubt. As he watched silently with his breath held, Snape turned around and Harry grinned as he saw the bottle clutched in the man's hand. Feeling uncommonly bold, Harry went to stand directly in front of him and whipped his cloak off.

"You gonna share that?" he intoned cheekily.

Professor Snape reeled backwards at the sudden appearance of the boy in front of him, outrage and surprise mixing together to make him feel slightly dizzy. Or maybe that was just the rum. He'd reached the point where it was hard to tell the difference.

"What in Merlin's beard are you doing down here, Potter?!" he snapped after he recovered his balance and some sense of dignity.

"Taking a walk, sir," Harry answered calmly, amusement dancing in his eyes. Things couldn't get any better than this.

Snape just looked at him blankly before barking out, "Thirty points from Gryffindor!"

Harry only laughed softly to himself as the realization that he couldn't technically do that anymore, not really, since Harry was no longer considered a member of that house dawned on the man. It was just a name now, nothing more. Snape cursed inwardly as he continued to gape at the obviously entertained Potter. He'd had more shocks and sudden surprises the last few weeks that he thought he was going to scream. Seething and glaring now, Snape conjured a chair and sat down with what could be considered a very irate grumble.

"Horrid. The entire lot," he said to himself.

"We're not all that bad, are we?" Harry asked, really curious.

"YOU are. Always wandering around in the dead of night, sneaking and spying on people."

Harry snorted. "Like you don't."

The look that crossed Snape's face told him he was treading on very, very thin ice. He decided he'd shut up for the time being.

"I am a teacher, it is my duty to patrol these halls and to make sure the students are all in bed. Of course, there's always that one fledgling that falls out of the nest and hops around after hours," Snape's tone was biting as he glared at Harry.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, his tone sincere, his eyes belying the mirth he really felt.

"Go back to your room, Potter. I am sure Draco is wondering where you are, or is he lurking about somewhere down here as well?"

"He's in the room, asleep. I think he may finally rest tonight," Harry spoke, smiling a little.

"What of you? Is that not an activity you engage in on occasion, bad dreams aside?" Snape inquired with a lift of his eyebrow.

"It's not something I do a lot of, no. Never have. Always been more of a night person, really," Harry said, thinking he was stating the obvious and not letting on how worn out he really was. Yet again, his eyes gave him away, but Snape said nothing.

"Not a word of this," Snape said warningly as he unscrewed the cap from the bottle, seeming to have forgotten he'd just told Harry to go back to his room.

"Not even a whisper. What are you drinking anyway?"

"If you must know, it is spiced rum, imported from Portugal," Snape told him after lowering the bottle. "Muggle spiced rum no less. Seems the morons managed to get something right for once." He finished, drawing out the word 'morons' to make the very sound of the word contemptuous.

"So, um, what are you doing down here, sir?" Harry asked, edging further into the room and ignoring Snape's jab at Muggles. He did wonder though what the man would do if he ever saw a television. He'd likely keel over. Or hex it into oblivion. Something Snape-like.

"I am bewitching my mind and ensnaring my senses," Snape said, sarcasm virtually dripping from his voice as he waved the bottle a little.

Befuddling the mind, more like, Harry thought, but held his tongue.

"Do you drink often?" Harry asked instead.

"Potter, is this an interview or are you actually making an attempt at conversation? Furthermore, why are you still here? I told you to go away," Snape said, all sarcasm gone and the all too familar irritation firmly back in its place.

"Attempting conversation, but you make that rather difficult. All these short answers," Harry said, frowning a bit.

"I didn't realize this was the essay portion of the test," Snape said as he sipped the rum.

Harry couldn't help it. He laughed. Snape was no more pleasant when soused than he was sober. He did seem a little more laid back than usual though, but Harry was well aware the man was on guard, too. Just not as militantly so.

"You aren't going away," Snape said this as a statement, not a question as he continued to glare at Harry.

"No and I would also point out that you aren't screaming yourself hysterical about the fact I didn't listen, either," Harry said, feeling more emboldened than he had any right to be around this professor. He blamed the whiskey as he settled onto the filthy floor.

"Would you like me to scream at you, Potter?"

"Well . . . no . . . of course not. It's kind of nice to sit here and not have you yelling so loudly I'm afraid you'll rupture something, actually," Harry told him honestly.

"I see. I also see you are too daft to even conjure a chair and instead choose to plop your bony arse into centuries worth of filth that is comprised of who knows what. I must say, I am terribly shocked by your lack of foresight," Snape drawled, not sounding shocked in the least. Just darkly amused.

Harry's temper flared and he muttered, "Fine." under his breath and sprang to his feet swaying a bit, something else Snape noticed. Again he chose to say nothing. The boy had likely just thrown himself off balance. He suppressed a laugh when Potter's conjured chair was just a rumpled as his clothes usually were. Come to think of it, the boy was rumpled in every way imaginable. From that impossible head of hair, to his clothes, and now it seemed, his conjured furnishing as well. That was enough to make Professor Snape snicker into the bottle as he raised it for another shot.

Lowering the bottle, Snape answered the other question Harry had asked him. "No, I do not often indulge. However, after the debacle with the Veritaserum tonight, I have been driven to drink by the collective madness of it all. So yes, on occasions such as these, I believe tidings to Bacchus are in order."

"Wasn't he the god of wine?"

"He was, sort of, but I have come to think of him as the god of spirits in general. After all, rum is a worthy substitute to wine. Tastes better, too," Snape added as an afterthought.

They sat in silence for a bit, Harry itching for a drink as he felt the first tendrils of sobriety starting to creep up on him. Hangovers were bad when you woke up with one, but getting one when you were still awake was a bitch. The slow creep of the headache, the odd taste in the mouth, all of it combined to make the experience even more unpleasant. Not only that, but he couldn't pull the whiskey out in front of Snape. He needed to convince the professor to share his own bottle with him. If the man was as difficult about that as he was everything else he had his work cut out for him. If it had been Draco to ask, Harry also knew that the professor would have handed it over without hesitation. He had thawed considerably towards Harry, but they certainly weren't bosom buddies by any means.

"So . . .," Harry hedged, jerking Snape's attention back to him. He'd forgotten the boy was even there. Potter really was a quiet sort.

Seeing that he had the man's attention, Harry asked, "What does it taste like?" and gestured at the bottle. The liquid looked like it was dark, likely brown, but in the dim, almost completely dark room he couldn't be sure.

"Like spiced rum," was the curt answer as Snape looked at him with something like curiosity in his eyes.

"But what does spiced rum taste like?"

"You've never tasted rum? A teenage boy who has never drank anything stronger than butterbeer. Where's that rebellious streak of yours that's so famous, Potter?"

Harry felt his lips twitching in a secret smile. If Professor Snape knew what he drank. It was laughable and he was thoroughly enjoying his little secret just then.

"No, sir, I haven't," Harry said, fidgeting a bit as sobriety crept closer and closer to the horizon. His head was already starting to throb dully. Maybe he should just excuse himself and go wandering elsewhere. But he'd made up his mind to do this, even if Snape did wind up giving him a lifetime's worth of detentions for the attempt.

"So tell me something, Potter," Snape said as he leaned back further in his chair. "How are you doing in your classes this semester? I have to say your marks in Potions have improved considerably. Draco must be helping you for that to occur."

Harry licked his lips and darted a nervous glance at the bottle once more before hesitantly answering. "Yes, he does help me, as does Hermione. But the both of them refuse to do it for me. I am glad he's helping me with Potions though, but I still feel like I am always doing something wrong, even when I get it right."

"That may have something to do with the fact that you don't know the difference between Mugwort and Skrewt spleen. What you lack, Potter, is confidence. You need to stand up straight, eyes forward, instead of slumping around like you do. You hardly ever look up from your feet when you walk. Just look at Draco and all he's been through, he still stands up straight. Most of the time, anyway. So why can't you? Confidence is what makes a good wizard a great wizard, Potter. No matter how much power you have, if you don't have the confidence in it, you're wasting it."

Snape continued his lecture on confidence, much to Harry's shocked amusement. Right in the middle of his speech, Snape absently handed the bottle to Harry with a "You really should taste this. Excellent liquor. Now then, as I was saying . . . You know that spell you were taught to help increase the potency of whatever other spell it is your casting? That spell does nothing to your magic, instead what it does is, give you more confidence in the casting."

Snape was wound up in his talking, but the fact that Harry practically snatched the rum from his hand did not go without notice, nor did the way he drank deeply from the bottle, guzzling the spirit as though it were nothing but pumpkin juice. However, Potter getting himself unwittingly drunk on the alcohol was of no interest to him at the moment. He had things to say and intended to go on, undeterred. So he did.

Harry noted that while Snape was no more pleasant drunk than he was sober, he also talked much more than usual. In fact the man seemed to have became the paragon of self-help gurus, solving all of Harry's problems in under an hour, free of charge. He half listened as Snape prattled on, pretending to be interested in his rambling diatribe, when in all actuality, he was far more interested in the bottle of rum clutched in his fingers. It was rather tasty, hints of clove and vanilla evident in the dark, full-bodied liquid. Yet, Harry had to admit to himself - whiskey was far superior.

As Harry continued to internally sing the praises of whiskey, he also kept drinking the rum with little complaint. A small, almost timid sip here, a veritable gulp there. Harry also totally tuned Professor Snape out. That is, until the bottle was plucked from his hand while en route to his mouth.

"Does the concept of pacing yourself exist completely outside your realm of thinking? This is incredibly strong alcohol, you idiot child.," the professor spoke, his sneering voice jolting Harry back to full alertness. Well, as alert as his pleasantly swimming head would allow for.

"I suppose it is," Harry responded, grinning sloppily at his teacher. "It just tastes so nice that I forgot what it was for a moment."

"Potter, you are drunk," Snape pointed out casually, raising a finger to jab in the general direction of the bleary eyed youth. Harry laughed as it veered off course and wound up aimed at the floor between the two chairs.

"So are you," Harry said, laughing all the louder as he raised one of his own unsteady and wavering fingers to point back at a spot somewhere over Snape's head, leaning to the left a little in the process.

"Duly noted," Snape nodded, not seeming annoyed at all with Harry's bluntness. Abruptly, he changed the topic. "How did Draco fare after I left you all this evening?"

"He did very well, actually. We're going to teach Hermione Quidditch tomorrow. As well as it can be taught with only three people anyway," Harry replied.

"Why not take Longbottom with you, make it a foursome? Or will he be too busy chasing that horrid toad of his around to participate?" Snape inquired, his lip curling in distaste as he muttered, too quiet for Harry to hear, "Insufferable fool."

"That's not a bad idea. Maybe we will ask him," Harry said, nonplussed. "Though, about Draco, he did really well, even laughed. But, he also just . . . went away . . . again a couple of times. Both instances were involving his father. That kind of bothered me."

"It's to be expected. I think it will take Draco quite some time to recover from what Lucius did to him. It was, in effect, the icing on the cake, I believe that's the phrase. You told me that he had been hurting Draco for years now and tonight even more was revealed. A lifetime of trauma is not something that is easily overcome, especially trauma the extent of which that boy has suffered. To have the last bit of trust in your bastard of a father defiled in such a horrid manner surely finally broke down what little resistance he had," the professor said, his black eyes burning in his white face with rage.

"Trust? How could he have any trust in that wicked man?" Harry yelled, clenching his hands and sitting bolt upright in his chair.

"He trusted him to never use his body in such a way, Potter," Snape said. "That's the trust he had, it was feeble, yes, but it was still trust. I think maybe Draco told himself that if things never went any further than having the shit beaten out of him, then he could endure. Which he really didn't anyway, but it gave him hope, not something I think he grew up having a lot of. Perhaps he even thought that meant his father loved him."

"That's sick," Harry said, frowning now and gratefully accepting the bottle as it was once more offered.

"It's not sick, it's bloody damn sad," Snape said, and for the first time Harry truly heard regret in the man's cold voice. "I was around for years and I never suspected that, not that Lucius beat his son. The bastard was too clever, I suppose and Draco never would have dared say anything about it. I should have known though, shouldn't I? I am not blind, and in retrospect all the signs were there, Lucius's short temper with the child should have been proof enough alone. It is shameful."

Harry stared, mouth hanging slightly open, which he quickly filled with the neck of the bottle just to buy himself from time.

"Sir, how could you have known? Like you said, Lucius is too clever. He hid the marks, and hid Draco away from prying eyes as much as possible as well I am sure. You shouldn't feel that way. It was no one's fault it happened other than Lucius's," Harry said, hoping he sounded helpful. He really didn't blame Professor Snape.

"You saw didn't you? It took you all of a couple of weeks to realize it, it took me years. Really, I doubt that would make anyone feel better," Snape retorted.

"Sir -," Harry started, completely lost. Was Snape getting maudlin on him? He hoped that wasn't happening. Acerbic and assinine Snape he could handle, drunken; depressed Snape was beyond his ability. He made immediate plans to flee the scene if things continued in such a way.

"You know, Potter, for a couple of damnable Gryffindors you and the know it all don't suck nearly as much as I always thought," said Snape cutting him off, wearing a look that suggested the revelation caused him unlimited amounts of pain. "You've looked after him as well as you can, likely more than anyone ever has. Though, it did take Miss. Granger a bit longer to pull her head out of her studious arse. Either way, someone should put Lucius Malfoy out of his misery. I think I'd kiss the feet of the man who did that job."

"Sir, did you just say we don't "suck as much"?" Harry inquired with a smile, a smile that grew broader and more wicked even as his heart lurched with the professor's last statement. It seemed a lot of people wanted Lucius dead.

"Dear gods save me, I did," Snape replied, looking thoroughly aghast. "I have been around you blasted children far too long. I know this for a fact now. Next I'll be saying other . . . more unsavory things. Damn it all."

Harry could only laugh at the man. The word 'disgruntled' seem to aptly sum Professor Snape up like none other.

"I am so glad you find my pain amusing, Potter," he said dryly as he started patting the pockets of his robes, obviously looking for something. What he produced made Harry's eyes widen to roughly the size of saucers.

"You smoke?"

"Why do you think I have yellow fingers? Jaundice? Yes, I smoke. Have for years, actually. I started when I - I started a long time ago. Helped to calm my nerves I found," Snape said as he lit a smoke.

"I just never knew is all. I guess it's not something you advertise though," Harry said as he watched Snape exhale a cloud of smoke with great interest.

"Stop staring, Potter! What is it now? I guess you want to try one of these as well," the man glared at Harry, almost daring him to say yes. Harry liked dares.

"If you're offering," Harry responded with a quirk of his eyebrow.

"You've likely already gotten me fired and imprisoned because of earlier this evening, now you are sitting here happily drinking my rum, which you drove me to in the first place. Therefore, I find giving you a cigarette to be the least of my concerns. You will not speak a word of this to anyone," Snape finished and threw a lit cigarette at Harry.

Harry yelped and snatched at it, surprisingly catching it and not surprisingly burning himself. "Ouch! You could've just handed it to me," Harry snapped.

"I could've," Snape said as he gestured for Harry to hand the bottle over to him again. He saw Harry looking curiously at the cigarette he'd resituated in his hand. Rolling his eyes and heaving a sigh, he proceeded to explain to Harry what to do with it. He was amused when Harry took a drag so large it burned the first third of the cigarette away. He actually laughed as Harry's eyes bugged in his head and he started to cough violently.

As he looked at the older man with watering eyes, Harry said, "You're trying to kill me."

"That is another thing I have had enough of - you all accusing me of being a murderer, or at least a wannabe assassin. I may point out that you're smoking the same thing as I am. Furthermore, if I wanted to kill you I know far quieter means of doing so. You've never attempted to smoke before, and then you rush into it like you have been doing everything else for years. Try it again with a small inhalation, you great stupid thing," Snape growled before pulling angrily from the bottle.

Harry did as he'd been instructed, reminding himself that all he needed was confidence! He nearly choked on his laugh even as he took another, smaller drag and felt the unfamiliar feel of smoke swirling in his mouth. It wasn't an unpleasant experience at all. When he was certain he wouldn't strangle, he inhaled, letting the smoke fill his lungs very slowly. He waited a beat, then exhaled, delighted to notice some of the white-grey smoke curling out of his nostrils as well.

"I think I like this. It's not so bad if you're careful," Harry grinned and took another drag.

"Indeed. Will make you cough something fierce though if you do it long enough. Then again, there are potions to take care of that," Snape answered. He was somewhat enjoying corrupting Potter.

Snape took a deep breath and returned the topic of Lucius. "I used to visit the Manor and I always found it odd that he and Narcissa hid Draco away in the South Wing sometimes when I came calling. Now I know why. It's really all a matter of hindsight and I find it hard to tolerate. It leads me to think that Lucius wouldn't allow him to be healed."

"Wing? I know the house is huge, but when you start talking about wings, it makes it sound monstrous," Harry said, the gears in his head turning, making mental notes and also hoping to distract the professor from another depressive bout of guilt.

"There are so many rooms in that gargantua that they likely even get lost in it. Four stories and they really only use two. Draco's room in the South Wing was the only one occupied on the third floor. Lucius and Narcissa had separate suites in the North Wing on the second floor. They took the saying "out of sight, out of mind" very literally it would seem. It was all so very predictable. Did you know that house elves practically raised Draco until he was old enough to start wandering around on his own?"

"No, I didn't know, but that doesn't really surprise me though. He told me his mother was cold towards him and that . . . well . . . we know what Lucius did to him," Harry ground out as he flicked ashes to the floor.

"Wretched people, both Lucius and Narcissa. Draco was a necessity, as was their marriage. End of story. They are beautiful, but they are cold," Snape said, his eyes far away. "Well matched I suppose. Draco always lacked something though, the coldness and aloof nature. He's far too outwardly temperamental, even now, and yet, the boy always had a kind streak he tried to keep hidden as well. He's mercurial I suppose. Not to mention half mad, too, thanks to his parents."

"Don't say that about him. He'll be just fine. All he needs is time," Harry said, feeling anger sparking inside of himself.

"I would like to think so, but it may be too late. You can't expect him to wake up tomorrow and be the same he was two months ago, Potter. It doesn't happen that way," Snape said, not unkindly, just with a note of resignation in his voice.

"Whatever!" Harry snapped as the bottle was offered again. He turned it up and drank until his head simply fell back against his will. Snape watched him somewhat sadly. He figured Harry knew how sick Draco really was better than anyone else did, yet he still held onto the hope that he'd make a full recovery one day and it would be like nothing ever happened - from Draco's wreck of a childhood to more recent events. Snape also thought that somewhere, deep down, Harry knew better than that. With a sigh, Snape reached out took the bottle away from the obviously angry and distraught Potter. Some of the rum sloshed down Harry's chin and splashed his shirt.

A look of utter contempt was shot at him, but Professor Snape pretended he didn't notice. "Well, congratulations, my bottle is almost empty. Two in one night."

"Wait . . . That's the second bottle you've had?" Harry asked, all irritation forgotten.

"Yes, that is what I said, although this one wasn't mine alone," came the snippy reply. "I have gone and shared alcohol with one of my students. Goody for me."

"You've also been one chatty motherfucker and almost civil to one at that," Harry stated, smiling just a little.

"I would never fuck my mother, Potter, that's disgusting. But yes, I do find liquor has the bad habit of loosening my tongue," Snape said.

Harry roared with laughter. Snape was so deadpan about such things that he couldn't help but find him funny. "Well," he choked out between laughs, "We should just go ahead and finish the bottle if it's almost gone."

"I agree," Snape nodded.

"Shot for shot?" Harry asked, grinning in anticipation and tilting to the side. He was wasted. No doubt.

"Very well. I shall go first."

They passed the bottle back and forth until, after Harry's last shot, it was empty. He turned the bottle upside down and shook it a bit, looking forlorn.

"All gone," he said to Snape, looking very much the sad-eyed puppy just then.

"Well, that's that then," Snape said, also looking a little disappointed, though his look was purely for show. He had four more bottles in his private quarters which he intended to start on at least one of before going to bed for real. "I suppose I should head back to my room and you to yours."

"Yeah," Harry said, dragging his fingers through his hair, causing it to stick up even more wildly than usual.

Snape was not at all shocked to see how obviously drunk he was. His eyes were glassy and glazed looking; decidedly unfocused, not to mention the fact his head rolled a bit from side to side.

"Young man, you are utterly inebriated," Snape told him.

"I know," Harry replied, grinning lazily. "Welllll, good night, sir."

Harry rose from the chair to leave and promptly sat right back down. On his face.

"Damn," Harry's muffled voice said from the floor.

"For crying out - Potter! Get up this instant!" Snape said, fighting his amusement. He'd just gotten one of his students hopelessly wasted. While technically that wasn't a good thing, he still couldn't shake off the laughter that threatened to bubble up in his chest.

"Not so sure I can," Harry said as he turned his head to the side, starting to giggle.

Snape rose from his chair and hooked his hands underneath Harry's armpits and began the valiant task of trying help a drunken teenager stand up. Finally, after much cursing from Snape's end and even more giggling from Harry's, Snape had him upright once more. The fact that he almost fell backwards into the professor was beside the point.

"Whoa!" Harry exclaimed as he reeled, flailing his arms in an attempt to not fall again.

Snape placed a steadying hand on Harry's upper arm and told him, "I think you may need some help making it back to your quarters, Potter."

"Hmm," Harry said, "Think drunk am I."

It took Snape a moment to rearrange the sentence into a sensible pattern, but when he did he snorted. "Drunk are you Potter too think I," he mocked as he began propelling Harry out of the dungeons, with a look of complete irritation.

"You know, I think you can call me Harry now," said Harry when they finally reached the stairs that led back into the main part of Hogwarts.

"Very well. I think you may not call me Severus," was the snide reply.

"Testy, testy," Harry said airily as he stumbled once they reached the top of the stairs.

"Careful now, there's a floor there," Snape said dryly as he turned the young man in the right direction and set off for the stairs that went to Gryffindor Tower.

Even in Harry's state, he was impressed with the older man that was leading him home, or dragging him as it were. Snape had drank nearly two bottles of rum right by himself and was surprisingly steady on his feet. It was a shock, too, since Snape had said he didn't drink often. Somewhere in the back of his mind he recalled hearing Dean Thomas call some Quidditch player 'hardcore' once. At the time he hadn't really known what that meant, but now, seeing how well Snape could hold his liquor he thought he'd finally figured it out. He said so to Professor Snape.

"I have heard there's some Irish in my family line somewhere. That explains it," was all Snape said.

"Ok," was Harry's drunkenly amiable reply, although he didn't really see what that had to do with anything. Though the idea of Snape being one of those so-called Drunken Irishmen was mightily amusing. He said that as well.

"Shut up, Mr. Potter," Snape growled.

"Harry," he corrected.

"Shut. Up. Harry," Snape growled again, even more annoyed.

They finally reached the door to Harry and Draco's room without incident or anymore speaking thanks to Snape slapping his other hand firmly across Harry's mouth when he wouldn't stop laughing about Snape having a pint with a leprechaun or some such nonsense. Once the giggles had subsided, Snape had let Harry go and he'd allowed himself to be led along in silence.

Once there, Snape released Harry, who promptly staggered to the side.

"You are hopeless, Potter. I hope you never decide to take up drinking full time," Snape said as he grabbed him once again.

Harry just blinked a couple of times then screamed out a raucous laugh that echoed in the entire hall. "Yes, sir," he spluttered out. "You do have a point there."

"Of course I do. And once again - SHUT UP!" Snape said as he led Harry to stand directly in front of the door.

Harry grabbed the knob and with considerable effort used it as leverage to turn himself around and face the professor. "Thank you for the drink and the smoke, sir. I don't suppose I could have a couple more of those could I?"

"Sure, why not?" Snape said, falsely chipper, even as he dug the packet out and handed Harry three more cigarettes.

Stepping very close to Harry he tapped him between the eyes with the tip of his finger, causing the latter to crash heavily into the door. "This goes no further, understood?"

Harry, who was furiously blinking at the teacher finally said, "Yes. But gods do you sound like a skipping CD."

"A what?"

"Nothing, sir, nothing," Harry said, smirking a bit as he turned himself back around and managed to yank his wand from his pocket to unlock the door. "Have a nice night."

"You, too, Mr. Potter," Snape said with a weary sigh as he watched the boy fumble with the doorknob. He shrugged and turned to head back to the dungeons, quite ready for some more rum.

=*|*=

Harry stumbled and lurched his way into the darkened room and collapsed on the bed next to Draco who had, indeed, slept through the night it seemed. He curled next to the boy and rolled onto his side. It was only a few seconds before he felt Draco's arm wrapping around his waist and pulling him close. He murmured sleepily under his breath and Harry smiled. A lone candle burned on the night table and he used its light to examine Draco's hand. Clasping it in his, he drew it closer and looked at the underside. The delicate, white skin was so thin there that he could see the delicate blue tracery of the veins beneath. Lifting it to his mouth he traced the largest vein with the tip of his tongue until he reached the slight indentation where Draco's wrist joined his hand and placed a soft, sucking kiss on it. Satisfied, he tucked his hand back into Draco's and simply lay there, floating in his drunken haze.

A/N: Weird question, but I was wondering if any of you think you may be interested in reading my other fics? Not gonna post them if I don't think anyone will read them. Just how I am.

Feedback is muchly appreciated, always, but especially on this chapter. Please?