Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns all public characters, and the world of Harry Potter. There is no intention to violate copyright.

Whiskey

Tuesday December 1, - Wednesday, December 16, 1998

The caterwauling of a feline in heat awoke me at an ungodly hour. My eyes snapped open, and I angrily threw off the blankets. Magic dressed me while I swooped to the door intending to end the quarrel. Obviously, Granger allowed Crookshanks to prowl the castle, and he managed to corner McGonagall or Mrs. Norris. The door to my suite slammed open as I attempted to scare the cats, and then I realized the racket came from behind. How was that possible?

The elderly wizard barked angrily, "Watch it, buffoon! You nearly threw my portrait to the floor."

"If only it were that easy. Perhaps, I should burn it," I snarled at Herpo the Foul. Why was I stuck with his portrait on my door?

The elderly wizard bristled in anger. His arms folded across his chest as he asked, "What was that racket coming from the room?" My brows narrowed at him curiously. He ran a hand through his beard while he murmured, "Truthfully, his shrieks of terror fail to surprise me. Who could blame the boy for screaming the moment you disrobed." Herpo shuddered at the thought, and then he sneered haughtily at my contemptuous glare, "First you betray the Dark Lord, and now you fraternize with the enemy. Does Headmistress McGonagall know what you do with her Gryffindor saviour?"

My arms folded across my chest as I snorted at the portrait guarding my door. With a derisive laugh, I insolently mentioned, "Obviously, you fail to have the slightest inclination of what happens in this castle. I suppose, nobody stops to chat with you. Why is that, I wonder?"

Herpo's eyes blazed into mine as he sneered "Go on then, Snape. Play with your little Gryffindor Master, but you will never match me at wizardry." My left brow rose at his challenge, and I listened while he continued, "You defile dark magic with your silly games, and make namby-pamby spells that serve no purpose." He scoffed derisively, "I used it to create vile curses, and I was the first to make a Horcrux. I bred Basilisks, and you, cannot even speak parselmouth. You are a blemish on the Dark Magic canvas, and your achievements will fade into obscurity before the flesh rots from your bones."

"We shall see," I calmly stated, and then I noticed Potter's arrival. The youth must have heard our conversation, because he appeared angry as he hissed loudly at the portrait. Herpo's eyes widened in surprise at the youth, and he eagerly responded in parseltongue. The two had an active conversation, I watched Potter work himself into a fury, and then he calmed while they continued to chat.

Herpo laughed softly at something Potter said, and then he turned to me and stated, "The student surpassed his teacher." Somehow, I needed to find a way to destroy his portrait. He glanced at the boy and snidely commented, "Perhaps, it was during his first year at Hogwarts." My body stiffened in anger, but I had no time for a retort as the two continued their conversation in parseltongue. They shared a laugh, and their natter came to an end when Herpo amusingly stated, "Singing, my friend, is not one of your many talents."

My gaze fell on the boy, who blushed guiltily. That explained the earlier racket. It annoyed me at how easily Potter made friends with the darkest wizard in history, but I was not surprised. His charisma was renowned. His being a parselmouth placed him in good standing with the notorious wizard.

It was too early for us to go into the Great Hall, so we decided to take a short walk around the castle. Potter seemed relaxed, and relatively cheerful. I was attempting to find the right words to ask, but the traitorous bond told him of my anxiety. He glanced questioningly at me, so I quietly blurted, "I considered adding another bedroom, Sir."

Suddenly, I felt all of fifteen as I insecurely stared at the youth. Why did nothing come easy? Potter glanced at me curiously before asking, "Is it for me?" My head nodded in answer, and we continued to walk in silence. Potter considered my offer before he mentioned, "I would like that, but I do not wish to move. Severus, my friends and I often study late at night in the common room. However, there are times I would rather stay with you. What about the weekends?"

"That is fine," I silkily admitted, and once more cursed the link for sharing with him my delight. The weekends were the hardest, because the bond often failed to detect Potter. Our absence during Christmas somewhat concerned me, but we could always floo. I dreaded the thought of staying with the Weasleys. We continued our chat until we noticed more activity. Our relationship was awkward enough, without people making the same assumptions as that despicable portrait. Potter ran off to meet his friends, and I continued to the Great Hall to take my place at the Head Table.

McGonagall offered me a concerned look, when she saw my arrival. My punishment was not something I wished to discuss, but I knew she would ask. In an effort to avoid the conversation, I calmly informed her, "The bond fully healed me." She smiled softly at the news, and then I spoke quietly as I requested, "Minerva, may I have another bedroom added to my quarters?"

McGonagall's smile brightened as she enthused, "Of course Severus. This was something I offered before." She glanced at the arriving students, and cast 'Silencio' before mentioning, "It pleases me to see that you and Mr. Potter have come to an understanding. Does he plan to live with you?"

My gaze landed on the youth, and then I returned my attention to McGonagall as I explained, "Not exactly, Minerva. He intends to stay with me on the weekends, but he wishes to reside in the Gryffindor Tower."

McGonagall looked at the boy, and then she studied me with her gaze. She spoke firmly while she cautioned, "For your sake, Severus, I recommend you make a schedule. The boy cannot sleep over when he chooses, or students will talk." Did she think the same as Herpo? My brow rose accusingly at her, and she met it with one of her own. The woman was a master. Her voice hardened, as she sternly stated, "Severus, it is for your sake that I mention my concern. Many rumors started, thanks to young Mr. Weasley, and you don't want students thinking he punishes you when he stays over."

That assumption was not expected, and my earlier preparations failed to help with my emotionless mask. My gaze moved instantly to my plate, and I attempted to hide my reddened face behind dark locks of hair. The students would not have noticed, but the elderly witch certainly did. McGonagall patted my hand gently as she mentioned, "Your secret is safe with me, Severus."She earned an appreciative nod, and then I hurriedly finished my breakfast. I excused myself with a polite tip of my head, and strode briskly to the potions classroom.

Despite my having secured the lock last night, the door was open. This alerted me to potential danger, so I pulled out my wand and cast a few detection spells. Nothing showed amiss, and I cautiously entered. Who was responsible for the carelessness? Filch was my primary candidate, and then I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. I turned to stare in that direction, and nothing was visible. Yet, I could detect a haze in my peripheral vision.

I suspected student responsibility. Revealing charms showed an elaborate setup consisting of tubes and cylinders. The potion intrigued me, but it had a familiar scent. It took a moment to isolate the odor, because they attempted to disguise it with something flowery. The scent was of whiskey. Someone was using my lab to brew alcohol. It was probably students, so I banished everything, and I set a few magical traps. One produced a loud wailing racket, and the other caused the perpetrators to glow. That would do nicely, and I set them to trigger when someone cast revealing magic.

My thoughts returned to yesterday, when I was unable to pay for my whiskey. It felt wrong for Rosmerta to offer it freely, and I wished to return the favour. Unfortunately, I was still unable to spend any money. Perhaps, I could brew a Single Malt Scotch Whiskey. The thought intrigued me, and I began working on it that very night. It took nearly two weeks, but I finally developed one of quality. Muggles would believe it nearly a century old, because I used magic to age it.

It had a pleasingly fruity aroma that hinted of almonds and vanilla. The whiskey was moderately dry with a smooth and waxy feel. The aftertaste suggested smoke and hardwood. My lips curled slightly at the corners, as I examined my drink. The brew was perfect, and I suspected muggles would pay thousands of pounds. I transmogrified several phials into decanters, and I paid careful attention to the details etched into the glass.

A Snape always paid his debts, and I did not want those drinks hanging over my head. What would Potter think of my brew? My eagerness to show him surprised even me, because I never cared for his opinion. Why did I crave the youth's approval, or was it his attention? It may have gone against school regulations, but that evening we sipped whiskey at our nightly meeting. Potter drank responsibly, and I provided him with the potions needed to disguise his consumption. We chatted late into the night.

The next morning I awoke with a pounding sensation in my head. The lights seemed too bright, and sound was louder than normal. Despite our drinking moderately, it was obviously clear to me that I was hung over. How was that possible? My head screamed in pain as I made my way to the bathroom, and I took the proper potion to remedy the problem. How strong did I make that whiskey? My reflection horrified me, as my eyes appeared bloodshot and bleary. My condition was obvious, and then I wondered about my young master. Merlin, how would he explain it?

Fortunately, the remedy also took care of my eyes. Magic aided me in dressing quickly, and I grabbed the potions needed by Potter. Urgency hastened my speed, as I strode through the corridors on my way to Gryffindor Tower. I nearly made it to my destination, when I noticed the approach of Professor Weasley with my subdued Master. My mouth went dry as I took in the scene. They stopped at my approach, and I offered the Master a respectful tip of my head. Bill and I exchanged nods, and then he stated, "Severus, I was assisting Mr. Potter to the infirmary. He seems to have taken ill." The youthful professor raised his brows at me, as if having suspected the reason.

Potter turned his gaze, and I understood he avoided mentioning my part in this situation. That was no longer possible to hide, as I passed him the hangover remedy. Bill smirked wryly at me, and then I offered, "The brew was a success." A full decanter swiftly flew into my hands, as I mentally cast 'accio.' I held it out for the other professor as I offered, "Bill, this is for you. It is a special whiskey, and just in time for the holidays."

Weasley's eyes glistened as he glanced at the large decanter, and then I heard his laughter. He placed a hand on my shoulder as he quietly mentioned, "Right then, Severus. I never saw a thing." He offered the young Potter a friendly wink, and turned back toward the tower. Thankfully, McGonagall was no longer their head of house. Potter wasted no time in quaffing the potion, and we quickly went our separate ways. Neither of us wished a repeat of that situation.

What would a professional think of my whiskey? I eagerly wished to know Rosmerta's opinion of my brew, and I rushed to Hogsmeade at the end of classes. Fortunately, I arrived just after happy hour, and Rosmerta was washing tables. Hesitantly, I approached her and asked, "Rosmerta, would you care to try my whiskey?" She glanced at me, as I removed the decanter from my pocket. She studied the container curiously, while I explained, "It was magically aged a hundred years."

The woman offered me a smile, as she admitted, "Normally, I consider it rude to bring beverages into my pub, but this I am willing to accept." My lips curled at that backhanded compliment, and then she showed me to a table located near the fire. She placed a teaspoon of water into each tumbler, and handed them to me.

I pulled out the glass stopper, and poured the whiskey while I warned, "It turned out stronger than expected." The woman glanced amusingly at me, and her smirk told me that I worried for nothing. The corners of my mouth twitched slightly, as I asked, "Do you have the necessary potions?"

Rosmerta ran a hand through her hair while she studied me, and then she admitted, "I do, Severus, but I doubt I will need them." My left brow rose curiously at her words, and she leaned over to whisper, "Do you think I would have survived all these years without being cautious? Potions after drinking are fine for my customers, but I take the antidote before each shift. I do not want the poison in my veins."

Such a potion never occurred to me, because I could not imagine wanting it. However, she had a point. Perhaps, that potion would have made Tobias a better father. No, it likely would have enraged him further. It intrigued me, so I curiously enquired, "Does it help with addiction?"

Rosmerta nodded somberly while she explained, "It completely neutralizes the toxins. That prevents your body from becoming dependent on them, and it stops possible addictions. The potion allows me to visit with my patrons without concern. The taste is not affected, but the alcohol is no more potent than a glass of water."

That potion sounded ideal for Potter, but I had no wish to encourage this habit. Tobias' drinking made me leery of the substance, and I always carefully monitored my consumption. She sampled my drink, and glanced at me appreciatively while it sat in her mouth. Her eyes moved to the bottle after having swallowed, and then her gaze returned to me. Her lips curled into a smile while she enthused, "Severus, I have not tasted anything finer than this." My ego could take no more, but I lapped up every word as she continued, "I heard of your skill in the potions lab, but this was not expected. Would you consider going into business?"

Would Potter allow it? I gazed into the steely green eyes of the woman, and cautiously asked, "Do you think I should?" Messy locks of blonde hair danced carelessly over her shoulders, as the woman nodded her head at my question. The thought was tempting, but I knew better. I looked into her eyes and regrettably admitted, "My Head of House would never allow it." She glanced at me curiously while I explained, "I have accepted a job in the Ministry, working with the Auror department. This would interfere with my new career."

Rosmerta stroked the back of my hand as she mentioned, "I need no further explanations, Severus, and I appreciate your dilemma. Mr. Potter is an idealistic young man. He wishes to save the world, and I cannot imagine him approving your production of a product which is known to destroy families." The woman truly did understand, and it helped me to feel less childish. We continued to chat for another hour, and then she mentioned, "Sorry to cut this short, but we are now into supper. I need to help my staff."

Of course, the woman had many responsibilities. I placed the stopper back into the bottle, and handed the decanter to her as I offered, "Keep this, Rosmerta. Think of it as an early Christmas present."

The woman smiled warmly at me, leaned over, and kissed me chastely on the cheek. This caused the most humiliating smile to form on my face, and it took nearly a minute to mask it. My lack of decorum mortified me. Rosmerta seemed to notice my discomfort. Her voice lowered as she spoke reassuringly, "This is a lovely gift, and I will use it on special occasions. I appreciate it, Severus. In return, you must accept a meal from me. Tonight's special is bangers and mash."

The offer was tempting, so I readily agreed as I admitted, "That sounds delicious." She smirked at my comment, and within a few minutes, I had a sizable serving set before me. It was more than I normally ate, but I did not wish to offend her. The last few bites were torturous, as I forced them down my throat. It suddenly occurred to me that I needed to take my leave, or I may later regret it. My stomach could hold no more.

Rosmerta met me at the door, and stopped me from leaving as she invited, "I'm throwing a Christmas Party for friends and staff on Sunday, would you like to come as my guest?" She received a nod of my head, and then she enthused, "It starts at eight, I'll see you then." Why did I agree to go?

"Indeed," I stated, and offered a respectful nod as I turned to exit. The sudden warm tingling sensation confused me, because I failed to understand what caused it. At least it was mild. Merlin, what if my students saw my earlier indiscretion? Did anyone notice that ridiculous smile? My lack of decorum infuriated me. Perhaps, I drank too much. Obviously, that was the reason for my lack of discretion. It was conceivable that I erred in the brewing of my whiskey.