The Mermaid Process
Dumbledore's journey to recovery was slow but steady.
Not six months ago was he introduced to it and last month was the worse binge so far.
Oh, he was introduced to his dependency the old fashioned way: Peer-pressure. He remembered the day too. He had confiscated it from a student and, after much taunting and being called "a dickfart", curiosity had got the best of him. One taste, was all he ever needed and now 'twas all he ever needs.
Yes, life was good for the old man. Years of pretending to have on-set dementia had worked favorably. No one expected a lot from him and his days were nothing more than knitting, bread-grooming and talking Harry out of his habitual suicide attempts ("I MEAN IT THIS TIME PROFESSOR" "Yes yes Harry, have a deep-fried chocolate hand on a stick and you'll feel better"). Forging crippling Dementia, next to figuring out he could wear sweatpants underneath his robes without people noticing, had been his greatest accomplishment to date (Voldemort: "You know, not kicking my ass, like fourteen times, but not having to wear pants to work").
But woe, what was the temptation that waned his judgment so? Maybe it was the glamour of having an addiction that appealed to him. Oh how his brother could have the exciting world of alcoholism but he, 400-years-old, too scared to try Wizard Weed.
Life began tumbling downward. He went in telling himself only for an hour would he lose himself to this world but next thing he knew it was April and he hadn't left his chambers for the entire season of winter. He had been completely submersed: His language was renewed, all sentences fragments and all fragments gibberish. He cursed more, his favorite being "ass" and "dick" (Voldemort: "I could've told you that!"). He secluded himself, lashing out at others whenever attempts were made for him to socialize.
But after an intervention and hysterical crying, Dumbledore realized this had gone on for far too long. His addiction to Biggie Smalls had taken too much control over his life.
It has been three solid weeks now. McGonagall, the "controlling she-dick", had discarded all his CDs" as muggles formally called them, along with his illegally downloaded copy of the NOTORIOUS movie and his animated poster of Christopher Wallace that conversed in only screaming ("I love you so much Biggie" "FUCK 2PAC!" "Yes, fuck both these Pacs").
Now, in order to deal with the shakes and to supplement his extreme cravings for an obese black man to scream lyrically at him, Dumbledore had decided to take up the art of people watching.
Seated comfortably in the teacher's lounge with a pen and pad before him, cupping hot tea in his hands, Dumbledore was able to enjoy investing his free time in a healthy hobby: Staring at Snape as much as he could.
"Albus…I thought we had this discussion…" Snape's rumbled softly from across the room, attempting to eat a sandwich.
"Severus likes to talk while he eats a, what appears to be, a dry-as-dick turkey sandwich." Dumbledore read aloud as he wrote.
"We agreed that you would stop watching me if I agreed to stop saying "No balls!" to Potter every time he gets the bluesies and tries to "end it all"…?"
"'Severus just used "no balls" in a sentence. No sign of his usual sarcasm so I conclude he enjoyed using the term.'"
"I did enjoy that phrase." Snape admitted but continued, "But—"
"'He looks like a huge bat just eating a sandwich in the corner of the room.'" Pause. "'Maybe if I turn the lights on and off he'll fly away and go bang a bitch for once.'"
Snape sighed, feeling the blood clot in his temple vibrating. "Albus I just had three hours of being privileged in supervising these little tumors, making sure that they were not touching each other, touching themselves or melting craters in the floors. So in the event that a student finally does do me the favor of burning me alive and ending it all and, in the event, that this is my final meal, I would greatly appreciate it if I could just devour this sandwich in silence."
There was a brief silence, which was only destroyed by the Headmaster adding on to his writings, "'I told him not to get the sandwiches from here. The house elves always get him the dry-assiest-bread because they're convinced he's really a Chupacabra disguised as an old Mexican woman.'"
"Albus that is eno—" But Snape's sentence was cut short by the abrupt sounds of involuntary choking. This was confirmed by the actual sight of the Potion's Master choking.
Dumbledore looked up from his completed thought to see his fellow colleague turning blue and clutching his chest in agony, paused and then went back to his pad to jot down another detail.
"'Snape is choking.'" Dumbledore grabbed his wand to take action but then another thought popped into his head. He paused to add, "'Mafack didn't listen.'" With that beginning written, Dumbledore flicked his wrist once and the chunk of the Bread of Death propelled from his windpipe, freeing him from suffocation.
As Snape quickly regained his natural shade of "ass white" (As Dumbledore described it) in his complexion, Dumbledore raised his head and peered at him from over his half-moon glasses.
The colleague knew that look; it was a protruding grin that could only be described as the look of someone very drunk that threw up finally on the annoying drunk girl and she started crying (Yes Dumbledore has done this before and yes he blamed it on the Dementia). Professor Snape at once protested, "Do not think for a split second—"
"Severus, my nigga, life…is like…a rap battle—" Dumbledore began, using the word 'my nigga' with a straight face.
"How are the lives of British wizards ANYTHING like a rap battle?"
"Oh Severus, poor deprived, ig'nit Severus. See, in rap battles it is one's wit, one's poetry and one's flow—"
"Flow of what?!" He snapped but, once again, Albus ignored him.
"That keeps a man's head above cold water. Now, it was my quick thinking that had saved your life. I had also saved you from being laughed at at your funeral when all the students would make berate you for choking to death. As we both know Griffindors are not above making 'choking on dick' jokes at your funeral. Especially Ms. Granger, despite refusing to suck dick herself." (When Snape shot him a perplexed look of shock, he explained) "I overheard Mr. Malfoy telling the two Autistic boys that follow him around that last week. You'd be surprised how much you learn when you turn out adults and just listen on what children have to say. Which, for teenagers, is surprisingly a lot about sex."
Disregarding the old man's ignorance on how teenagers Severus, who was now on the verge rage blackout, replied, "Albus I have the upmost respect for you, know that but also know your personality is, sometimes, too much for me to handle. And by that I mean I have violent urges against you half the time and the rest of the time numbing apathy." In the emotional land of Severus Snape that was pretty much a compliment since the only other feelings he have are biting rage and spiteful hate.
Nonetheless the Headmaster was not deterred and in fact smiled at him, delightfully.
Snape sighed, dropping his head to the table in defeat. "What do I have to do?"
"I don't know yet." He shrugged, rising from the table retrieving his belongings to exist the teacher's lounge. "But I will drop unexpectedly like pigeon shit to collect my favor."
"Hm, charming." Snape sneered, his upper lip curling making his notorious judgmental badger face.
"Oh Severus, don't challenge a man with a sharper mind than the stick up your ass." He replied, before giving him a smile and leaving the room to return to his knitting and second secret animated Biggie Smalls painting.