This is my first attempt at a one-shot. It's based on the song Better Than Me by Hinder. So if you haven't heard it, you should listen to it before you read this little ficlet. None of this belongs to me. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling. Damn her and her creativeness.
A worn-out broken-down man sat on the edge of his bed in his dark chambers. He held his head in his hands, trying to remember how much he'd had to drink the previous night. He'd sat alone in the Three Broomsticks for the third night in a row now. He'd chosen the same secluded corner table as he had all the other nights he'd tried to drink his problems away. He'd ordered a bottle of fire whisky and drank himself into a stupor before trudging back up to the castle where he had promptly passed out.
He sat up a bit and looked around the room. Many people would be surprised that his room was not all black, but deep burgundy and a dark gold colour. It was certainly big enough for more than one person. It held two tall mahogany chests, and two 'windows.' Since the dungeons were underground, they were charmed to be cloudy all day, and were covered with thick drapes.
He now stumbled out of bed and into the shower, willing the wave of nausea to pass. When it didn't, he promptly turned around to the toilet expelling the remainder of the alcohol from the night before.
He thought about how much his head hurt, how much he detested puking, and how much he hated hangovers in general. But in the wizarding world, there were instant cures for hangovers, so he kept on drinking, even though it had cost him the single most important thing in his life.
After his shower, he went into his study to find a bottle of hangover potion. After thoroughly searching his drawers, and making another trip to the toilet, he realized he'd taken the last of it the morning before.
He sat down in his big leather chair, comfortable from all the evenings he sat reading. His study was by no means large. There was just enough room for a large bookcase, a desk, and a trunk full of things that sat under his bed.
"Damn," he muttered. "Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn."
His head hurt from all the bending over, and he didn't want to go to Madam Pomfrey. Doing so would admit he realized he had a drinking problem, and he had too much pride for that.
"Stupid pride," he mumbled to no one in particular. "Why do I have to be so damn proud?"
"Because you're a prat, that's why," called a female voice from the doorway of his study.
He turned around quickly, spotting Tonks leaning against the doorframe. Before he could make a rude comment, however, he made a face and dashed towards the toilet.
Walking out of the bathroom with as much dignity as he could muster, he noted Tonks now sitting in his chair in the study.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He asked coldly, his usual manner returning. "And how did you even get in here?"
"You left you're door open." She stated simply. "And as for 'what the hell do you think you're doing,' what the hell do you think YOU'RE doing Severus Snape?" She said, her voice rising as she worked herself into an uproar.
"I was planning on sitting in my chair and reading, but--"
"You're such a bastard." She screamed, cutting him off. The war at hand had put her on edge, and she was feistier than usual. "You think that just because you're a spy for the Order, that you can do whatever you want. 'Hi, I'm Professor Severus Snape, and I'm a God. I don't care how my actions affect other people. I just do whatever I please.'"
"You," he said quietly, "are being immature and childish."
"Me?" She cried incredulously, now getting to her feet. "I'm being childish? I'm not the one who sits at the pub every night until I'm so drunk that I can't see straight. I'm not the one who hurt the one person that loved me. I'm not the one whose stupid pride gets in the way of me getting the help I need!" She finished dramatically.
"You have no idea what you are talking about," she spat, his voice dripping with venom. "You just assume you know everything. Always trying to be the best, aren't you Nymphadora? You're just like you were in school."
"You may put up that tough facade," she said, calming down, "but I can see past that Snape. You miss her. You miss Hermione."
At the mention of her name, Snape's features softened. "Get out." He breathed, his voice deadly quiet, "please just leave and do not bother me anymore."
Knowing she'd struck the wrong nerve, she got up the leave. As she opened the door, Snape spoke in a whisper so quiet, she wasn't sure if she was meant to hear it.
"She doesn't love me. She never did."
And without a backward glance she closed the door to his chambers and walked to the edge of the grounds. Once outside the gates, she apparated back to headquarters.
"At least I tried," she muttered to herself, "at least I tried.
Snape, on the other hand, was now pacing in his classroom. Every time he reached the door, he would pause, as if to open it, and then resume his pacing. He wanted to prove Tonks wrong and ask for a hangover potion, but she was right, he was a stupid prat and would do no such thing.
He finally retreated to his study to read. He sat down in his chair with a book, but after twenty minutes of reading and not really comprehending what he had read, he realized that he couldn't stop thinking about her. He'd been so stupid.
They'd only been together for two months when she had discovered his addiction to alcohol. One night in particular stood out in his mind. They'd had a fight the day before, and she had moved out.
i Snape walked into his room and fumbled to get his cloak off. He was having a hard time undoing the buttons, since he was seeing double. He had just thrown in on the coat rack when he heard a small sob from the corner. He looked up to find Hermione, tears pouring down her face, sitting on his bed.
"Mione," he stuttered, "Mione, what—I mean—how—why are you here?" he asked, finally settling on the right words.
"I came down—hiccup—here to find you," she said, her tears slowing down, "but you weren't here, so I thought I'd—hiccup—wait for you. I wanted to apologize. I—hiccup—wanted to work things out. I wanted to move—hiccup—back in. I didn't know you were out drinking again."
"I'm sorry..." he whispered , unsure of what else he could say. He'd been caught in the act.
"I hate seeing you like this," she continued, tears still leaking out of her eyes. "And you promised me that you'd stop! Why do you have to do this all of the time? Can't you see that it's killing me?"
Snape, having no idea what else to do, tried to sit next to her on the bed, but she shrugged him off and stood up.
"Severus, please," she begged, "please don't do this anymore. I don't ever want to see you like this again."
"Hermione," he muttered, trying extremely hard not to slur his words, but he was failing greatly. "This is hard for me too. I don't know where else to turn. Drinking is the only thing that can help me deal with the stress of all my problems. The war is dragging on, and working for both sides is both tiring and frustrating."
"And since you can't turn to me, I take it I'm part of the problem?" She asked, her voice now gaining a sharp edge to it.
"That's not what I meant," he said softly. "I don't want to involve you in all of my problems. I don't want to unload all of my stress on you. I know I have a problem, but I don't think that I'll ever be able to fix it. Mione, you deserve so much better than me. I," he stopped, his voice catching in his throat." I think we should see other people.
Hermione felt her heart break. She'd known this was coming. She'd felt it from the moment he'd walked in. But she didn't want to let him see how much he'd just hurt her.
"I guess," she started, "I guess you're right. Apparently we're just too different. If you ever change your mind though, let me know. Maybe when you sober up you'll realize how stupid you're being."
Having nothing left to say, she walked towards the door. Before she opened it though, she turned around to look at the man she loved one last time, hoping he would call her back, tell her not to leave. He continued to stare at the floor, however, so the opened the door and turned to walk away.
But before she could walk out, Snape looked up and stated simply, "I love you Hermione."
Without a backwards glance, she walked out and quietly shut the door, leaving him to wallow in his own self-pity. /i
This night proved him correct. How could she just walk out if she truly loved him? He'd been hoping that by suggesting they see other people, that she'd beg him to stay with her and tell him that she loved him. Instead, just the opposite had happened, she'd agreed. And now he was alone.
That scene had been almost three weeks ago, and he still thought about her almost constantly. Since their relationship had started the summer after her seventh year, she had convinced him to allow her to stay in his home at Hogwarts. He'd grown accustomed to waking up beside her every morning. When she left, she left any emptiness in his home. The drawers of the dresser that she had used remained void of any clothing; the things that occupied so much counter space in the bathroom were gone. And he couldn't forget the books. She'd somehow managed to cram almost every single book she owned into his small, extra bookshelf. And her collection wasn't small. She had to have at least 200 books. Though his bookcase was now overflowing, he refused to touch anything that reminded him too much of her.
Deciding his desk was too cluttered for his liking, he began clearing it off. When he started going through his drawers, he discovered a strip of pictures from a muggle photo booth. In the last one, he was looking above the camera, and she was looking at him with that expression that she often had when she was talking to him. He used to think it was a look of love, but now, he knew better. Love was a big joke for fools like him. No one loved him, no one ever had.
He sighed. No matter what he did, it was obvious that she wanted in his mind today. He gave up cleaning his desk, and instead, decided to write her a letter. He'd written her so many letters, but had never sent them. An entire box full sat underneath his bed. He didn't want anyone to know that deep down, he had feelings too. He liked to keep them in the back of his mind. It was the most efficient way to ward off nosy questions, and the easiest way to hide his mind from the Dark Lord.
He found a bit of parchment and a quill and began to write:
i Hermione,
Today I miss you more than usual. Everything I do reminds me of you. Tonks came here today to tell me that I'm a stupid, prideful prat, and she's right. I'm sorry I lied to you. I never meant to hurt you. But I'm too selfish. I was only doing what I thought would make me happy; I never stopped to consider your feelings, or what I was doing to you.
I found the pictures of us in that muggle photo booth today. You looked so happy. I can't believe that I hurt you like that. It kills me to know that I let you walk out of my life, and that I did nothing to stop you.
You'd think that since my drinking tore us apart, that I'd have stopped, but I haven't. I'm drinking even more now, and I hate it. It was my problem that made you want to leave me in the first place, and now I can't even stop for you. I just wish I could find the right person to help me get through this.
When I told you I loved you, I meant it, and I still do. I love you Hermione, and I'd do anything in the world to hold you one more time.
Yours,
Severus /i
He folded it, and wrote her name on the front. Realizing it was time for lunch, he tossed it on the table next to his bed, mentally telling himself he'd put it away later.
Now that his hangover had somewhat subsided, he felt that he could handle facing the noise of the Great Hall. Besides, he had already missed breakfast, and after all the trips to the bathroom to puke, he was practically starving. Term had started just two days ago, and he had the feeling the small group of first years was going to be louder, and more mischievous than usual.
As he walked into the Great Hall, he noticed Dumbledore looking at him peculiarly, his eyes giving off that mischievous twinkle that they often did right before he did something slightly impish.
"Good morning, Severus." Dumbledore said merrily, "I trust you slept well last night?"
"It was fine," Snape grumbled, "just fine."
"Ahhh, is that so?" he questioned, his eyes now twinkling wickedly. "Then you must have lost your way to the Great Hall this morning. I noticed you were absent for breakfast."
"I didn't feel hungry, and had no wish to sit and watch the children run around and gossip to one another about whether the great Harry Potter really sat in their spot."
"If I was less observant, I would be inclined to believe you. But many a night I have watched you cross the grounds at two or even three o'clock in the morning."
"You have no idea where I'm going." Snape spat violently. "How do you know that it's not business for the Order?"
"Because as Head of the Order, I know about all missions, side-trips, and therefore, all plans, whether significant, or slightly so." Dumbledore replied, before continuing. "I cannot tell you what do, or how to live your life, but I have noticed these trips becoming more and more frequent, and I've had complaints of you being extremely temperamental toward your students, and for docking points over silly things. One first year took me aside after lunch one day and told me that you'd docked 50 points for his shoe being untied.
"But—" Severus started, determined not to let the old man get to him.
"I, of course, awarded him the 50 points back, plus 10 extra for having the courage to speak up about your actions. I know you often terrify the students, but this is not your normal way of going about it. If you have a problem, I encourage you to come find me. You know where my office is."
And with that having been said, Dumbledore slid his chair back and swept gracefully from the Great Hall. This left Snape to stare at him in amazement, still in awe about how perceptive he really was. Of course, he had no intention to talk to Dumbledore, but he thought it was very kind of him to offer.
As he had this thought, he realized how much his previous relationship had softened him up. Of course, there was that girl in his second year, although that had only lasted a week. And then there'd been the girl in his sixth year. They'd dated for almost four months, but she didn't like to admit she was dating him, so she broke up with him so as not to ruin her reputation.
But neither of those compared to how he felt with Hermione. She was never ashamed to admit she was living with him, and he felt like that was the first real relationship he'd had. The other two were based on secret meetings late at night, and a lot of sex, but this was based on something real. Or so he had thought.
Since it was a Saturday, he had no classes to teach. He spent the day wondering aimlessly around the castle, exploring passages and hallways he hadn't seen before. Soon, by the darkness falling upon the castle, he knew that dinner would soon be taking place.
Upon entering the Great Hall, he decided the noise level was at an all-time high. Instead of taking his place at the staff table, he walked back down to his rooms. He didn't figure the students would miss him too much.
By the time he'd made it down to the dungeons, he decided that it was time for another trip to Hogsmeade. He didn't care what Dumbledore had said, he was having a bad day, and he just wanted to get good and drunk. Grabbing his cloak from its usual hook, he began walking toward the front doors of the castle.
As he walked across the grounds, he hoped that Dumbledore wouldn't spot him leaving, since he was making the trip much earlier than he usually did. Reaching the gates, he turned on the spot and apparated to the Leaky Cauldron. Feeling the need for a less cheery atmosphere, he had decided to change pubs tonight. Besides, he didn't want anyone who frequented the Three Broomsticks to think he'd become a lonely old drunk. That is, if they didn't think so already.
Lost in thought, he wondered up to the bar where Tom, the bartender, was cleaning glasses.
"What'll it be tonight Severus?" Tom asked in a cheery manner.
i 'Great...' he thought to himself. 'I choose the night Tom's in a talkative mood.' /i
"I'll have a bottle of Fire Whiskey." He announced to the man who looking at him intently.
"How 'bout you sit up here with me?" Tom suggested, "First couple 'o shots will be on the house. Besides, I hear tell you've been drinking by yourself every night for the past three days. It'd do you some good to have some company."
Grumbling to himself, he agreed to sit with Tom. Besides, who was he to turn down free alcohol?
After he was sufficiently smashed, he bid Tom goodnight, and walked to the outside alley where the apparating point was. Wondering if he'd be able to apparate being this drunk, he began to wonder to himself why he chose the Leaky Cauldron. At least if he was too drunk in Hogsmeade, he could walk back to Hogwarts. From here, however, that was a completely different story.
Against his better judgment, he waved his wand and with a crack, apparated.
Regaining his balance, he looked around. He'd overshot his landing point by about twenty feet, but for being so drunk, he considered that good. Walking up to the castle, he hoped Dumbledore was still minding his own business. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he was ashamed of his behavior.
Opening his door, he tossed his cloak onto the small table in the kitchen. Proceeding to his bedroom, he fumbled to take his clothes off. When he decided it was taking too long, he fell into bed, still fully dressed.
When he woke up the next morning, sunlight was shining into his windows. Wait, sunlight?
He sat up abruptly, causing his head to pound, and making him feel sick to his stomach. He looked around for the source of the light, and found Tonks being her happy-go-lucky self sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bedroom. Thanking the gods he had clothes on, he became angry that she had just let herself in once again.
"Tonks!" he practically shouted, "what are you doing?"
"Oh calm down, would you? I brought you a hangover potion, since I figured you'd need one."
"If you wanted to help me," he started slowly, "why'd you have to charm the windows to shine like that?"
"Because I thought it would be funny." She stated. "Yep, it's pretty funny."
"Just give me the potion." He spat.
"Not unless you say 'please.'" Tonks said in a sing-song voice. "Besides, if you're the potions master, why don't you make it yourself?"
"I usually do, my supply has just run out, and it takes three days to brew. I haven't gotten around to making more. Now please just let me have it."
Handing the potion over, she surveyed him critically. "Hermione's right." She finally said, "You are sexy when you're vulnerable."
Snape almost spat the potion out. "Did you just call me sexy?"
"Yes, I did. For an old man," she said slyly, "you're pretty damn attractive."
Drinking the rest of the potion, Snape felt immediately better. He put the bottle down and turned once more to Tonks.
"How long have you been here?"
"Well," she said as she thought, "it's almost 1:00 now, and I got here during breakfast, so about..." she paused as she did the math, "5 hours."
Going into the kitchen, she came back out with a plate of food and some coffee.
"I know it's not as elaborate as what they have in the Great Hall, but it's the best I can do," she said, handing him the plate. "Oh, and that letter you wrote to Hermione was really sweet. I had one of the school owls send it for you."
Seeing the look on his face, she became confused.
"What's wrong?" she asked, her concern evident.
"That letter," he replied, as the color drained from his face, "was not meant for her to read."
"Did you mean everything that you said in that letter though?"
"Well, of course. What's the point of writing a letter to yourself if you're not honest?"
"Well then," she replied, once again in a chipper mood, "it's not a big deal. She sent me an owl back asking if you had really written that, and I told her you did, so she owled me back and said she was coming here to see you. She's staying in Hogsmeade this weekend on Order business."
Snape, unsure of what to do next, just sat there, staring blankly at the wall.
"I therefore suggest," Tonks continued as she took the untouched plate, "that you get up," she pulled him out of bed, "and put some clean clothes on. But first, take a shower," she said, pushing him towards the bathroom. "You smell like Dung."
In a daze, Snape showered and changed his clothes. After all, being told he smelled like Dung was not a complement. Mundungus always smelled like stale alcohol.
Walking back to his study in a much better mood, he noticed that his chair was turned around, facing the opposite way, and he could see the legs of the person who was currently occupying the chair.
"Tonks," he cried, "for the last time, that is my chair and I wish..." he stopped short of finishing his sentence as the occupant of the chair turned around to reveal Hermione.
"Mione?" he asked softly.
"Hi Severus," she replied quietly. "I got your letter. Tonks explained everything to me before she left."
Not sure of what to say next, and not wanting to say the wrong thing, he just stood there stupidly.
"Since you didn't want me to see that letter, and since you're not talking to me, I assume that you don't really want me to be here." She whispered, her voice growing softer and more fragile by the moment.
"It was stupid for me to even come here," she muttered as she got up to leave, "like you said, we're just too different."
Snape, convinced he wasn't going to let her get away again, decided to say something, whether it was the right thing or not.
"Hermione, wait." He paused for a moment, thinking things over before he continued. "I was foolish enough to let you leave once, and I'm not going to let you leave again."
Hermione sat back down as she waited for him to continue.
"Hermione, I let you walk away last time because I didn't want to have to burden you with my problems. But now my problems are even greater. I've been drinking almost every night since you left. And I want to stop, but I don't know how else to handle the pain. I want you back. You're the last good thing left in my life."
Hermione slowly stood up, walking over to Snape and put her hands on his chest.
"Do you really mean that?" she asked, her voice hardly louder than a whisper.
Snape, having dreamed of her being this close again, found that he couldn't talk. Instead he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her passionately. He ran his tongue along her lips, begging for entry. He'd forgotten how good she felt against him, how perfectly their bodies fit together. He pulled back from the kiss, looking at the tears that had formed in her eyes.
"Move back in with me," he pleaded. "I want you here. Forever."
Sighing contentedly, she kissed him gently on the lips and replied, "of course. Forever."
He held her tight, afraid that if he let go she'd disappear.
"Hermione?"
"Yes, Severus?"
"Your books," he said simply.
"What about them?" she asked, genuinely confused.
"How'd you get them to fit in that tiny bookcase?"
A look of amusement crossed her face and she laughed for what felt like the first time in weeks. "When you read as much as I do, you develop a special talent for cramming books into small spaces."
He smiled when he heard her laugh. It was one of the things he loved about her the most.
"One more question?" he asked.
"Sure, but after that, I get to have my way with you." She said, beginning to get that mischievous glint in her eye that reminded him so much of Dumbledore.
"Did you really tell Tonks that I was sexy when I was vulnerable?"
"Of course I did, I love seeing the side of you that no one else ever gets to see. Except, I'm assuming Tonks did."
She laughed again when he stood there, looking at her in awe.
"I love you Mione." He said, slightly afraid she'd walk away again.
"I love you too Severus," she said as she backed away from him and walked toward the bedroom door. "Now it's time for you to hold up your end of the bargain." She motioned for him to follow him.
He followed her into the bedroom, where she shut the door, then turned around and tackled him onto the bed.
"Today, it's my turn to watch you plead." She smiled wickedly and used her wand to produce two pairs of handcuffs. "And if you want me to play nice, you'd better start begging."