"What is it?" the voice of the Potions master sent shivers along Harry's spine. He was standing outside the door of Snape's private rooms. Was glad he had found them after all, had cost him some bribery he'd rather not think about. There were steps behind the closed door and Harry shivered. He was not so sure after all that he was glad he found the rooms, and why exactly was it that he had come? He had prepared a speech, but just at the moment it had fled him completely. "Whoever that is better has a good reason for disturbing me in the middle of the night", the voice of the teacher growled – and did it slur just the tiniest bit? Harry shivered again. Reason? What reason? What was reason to begin with?

The door opened with a bang. Yes, it had been slurring, Harry decided. The Potions master looked – different. He was wearing a dressing gown in dark green – a colour Harry despised heartily – and his hair hang into his face as he looked around wildly. His fingers shook, just a little. Harry shivered in sympathy. He managed to slip into the room, while Snape had another look around and saw nothing. The door closed and Harry's heart sank.

Now, here he was. In the eye of the storm. Who looked about wildly – Harry felt reminiscent of his awful fourth year, with the tournament and all, when Snape had really seemed mad. Perhaps he was. Harry felt trapped – and it was his own bloody fault.

Snape went over to a chair and a table. He set down and poured himself something out of a bottle into a glass, both standing on the table. Harry followed suite and from what he saw it didn't seem as if it was the first glass. Yes, definitely, slurring. The Potions master was thoroughly pissed. Or not far away from that.

"Damn the brats", he muttered. "Damn those prank-loving utter bastards. Not enough to make my days a living hell, now they come tormenting me at night, too." Harry stared on in horror. Yes, Snape was mad. Talking to himself, drinking – he should be gone. Now. He looked about as wildly as Snape had done moments earlier. But there was only the door. And Snape had closed it. Well he would fall asleep. Eventually. He must. Simply must.

But not just yet. "Should have stayed with Riddle", Snape said to his glass. "Bad taste, that one, but I wouldn't have taught for ages and ages, generation after generation." Harry thought that a bit much. Clearly Snape couldn't be that old? "Taught? Whom are you telling that, Severus?", Snape said with a bitter laugh, that sounded so hollow Harry froze. "Never taught anybody anything Tried to, though." Another deep look into the glass, followed by a hearty sip. The glass landed back on the table, splashing some of the brown fluid onto it. Harry could have used a drop, too. He licked his lips. Oh, okay, so he was in lust with a mad man and a former death eater who would have liked being a death eater better than teaching. Good to know – and now he could get on with his life. When he got out of this room.

"But all these buggers are interested in is – sex", Snape complained to the bottle. "Try to drill holes in the things they call their brains, holes into holes, what a joke". He laughed a very sad laugh turning into a cough. Harry really needed that drink, badly. "Try to make them able to lead a decent life, to defend themselves and not kill themselves or anybody else inadvertently. And what do they do? Only interested in getting in each others knickers. Or even their own. Pathetic." Another cough. Harry was shocked. Surely he couldn't have been that obvious? He felt a bit awkward.

"And all they can think about, if think you may call it, is How can I do it? How often can I do it? Can I get anybody to do it with me? Is anybody else doing it? Does that anybody have more fun than me?" Another bitter laugh. Harry was dumbfounded. Well, yes, now that he thought about it, Snape had a point there. But he was too terrified by the fact that Snape had noticed anything beside their potions to be shocked by the fact that he for once was of the same opinion as Snape was.

Snape tried to bring glass and bottle together. It seemed to be a difficult task. "And each and every damned year, one or the other of these brilliant Gryffindors decides he has to take the risk and insult the hated Potions teacher's sexuality. Each and every fucking year." Harry was even more shocked. Sure, he hadn't been in on the joke, and he hadn't found it spectacularly funny, but surely it wasn't common usage? It couldn't be, or could it.

"Each and every fucking year the lord bestows upon us – funny that, the Lord Who? What you call him?" Snape laughed a laugh that made Harry's hair stand on end. Not much more and he would dart to the door and take the risk of opening it. Trying to, at least. Snape was in no position to follow him. "They decide it would be oh so funny to show me their hatred and contempt in their special way. Do they do that to Minerva? Do they do that to Binns? Nope." He toasted himself. "They only ever do that to me." He drank. Harry watched the throat constrict. And gulped.

"And as the only thing they can think about is sex as being the most important thing in the world, they invariably try and challenge me on that field." He had a little difficulty with the word "invariably". "Hahaha", that really sounded bitter. "I got a brilliant idea", Snape gave a fair imitation of Bill Weasley. "The greasy git hasn't been laid – ever, wouldn't it be nice to make him blush? Wouldn't that repay him for what he has done to us?"

Harry watched on as Snape opened a drawer and took out sheets of parchment. "Year after year. Professor, when did you last get off? Professor, did you kiss – ever? Professor, surely you haven't been laid – once?" Snape threw the pieces of parchment on the floor. Harry watched with horror, as one of them stopped directly in front of him, more exactly leant on his cloak covered leg. Snape didn't notice. Harry relaxed a bit.

"I have enough. I resign. Nothing more of it. Albus can have my head, and my job, and everything. I don't care". Snape threw the table against the wall. Harry gulped. Oh oh, he was in trouble. He looked longingly at the door. And back to Snape. Somehow he felt sympathy for the man. He was as mad as a monk, but still.

Snape had sunken to the floor, collapsing on the table. Harry squirmed. That must hurt! "That Finnigan", Snape growled, lifting his head like a wounded yet deadly animal. "That was too much. I lost it. Once in twenty years is not that bad, now is it?" He giggled. Harry felt his teeth shatter. Hopefully Snape didn't hear him. No, surely not. Snape was in a world all of his own.

"And now I showed them. Once and for all!" Snape tried to get up but couldn't. He seemed quite content on the floor as it was. "There will be no more talk about my non-existing sexuality." More evil giggling. "Wetted himself. Quite gratifying, I must say. Didn't think it would be so easy. That definitely was a bonus. Wretched little brat". Snape sounded nearly fond. Harry's horror flared. "Didn't think I still had it in me, if truth be told", Snape said earnestly to the table he leant on. "It really was a long time." He tried again to get up, and failed again. "But surely you don't loose it completely, and if I can't get a hormonal teenager off, that would be the day." Harry gulped as he saw generations of future Hogwarts students being molested by the Potions teacher, now that he had tasted blood. Oh hell! He had to talk to Dumbledore. He pitied Snape, really, but he couldn't let him get away with that. He had assumed responsibility, damn himself. Why was it always him, Harry Potter, who had to clean away the mess others had left behind? Because he got himself headlong into it, that's why, said his conscience. Harry couldn't object.

"And now they all come and want a piece", Snape muttered to the table. He was stroking it, Harry noticed, with his long fingers, rather tenderly. Harry gulped again. Wait, what had he said? He had been momentarily distracted, as his blood had decided to leave his brain for a visit to his lower regions. He summoned it back with all the power he could muster. And listened.

"That's even worse. Little hypocrites. Can't stand me, but now that they saw what I can do, they come here in the middle of the night, wanting to talk to me. Talk!", he screamed. "After seven years they want to talk. In the middle of the night. Seven years of torture, seven years of trying to make them learn anything, seven years of hating me, and now they come to me for their sexual education." Snape groaned and Harry was taken aback. They – had – come – here? Who? He narrowed his eyes. Who had dared?

"Bulstrode. BULSTRODE! As if I ever could do something, anything to her. Malfoy. MALFOY. At least he's pretty, but he's his father's son, so how dare he? Crabbe and Goyle. Argh! I never was that desperate to fall back on the animal species." Harry wanted to giggle and pressed his hand against his mouth. Snape shook his head sadly. "And of course the Gryffindors. Shouldn't wonder that Granger came." Hermione? HERMIONE? "She always was one for study". Again, the Potions teacher sounded quite fond. Hermione would be so proud to hear – Harry would of course never tell her. Just at the moment he had an urge to kill her. Slowly. Very slowly.

"But Weasley. That really took me by surprise." Ron? RON had been here? Oh wait. Just you wait, Ron Weasley. You'll wish you'd have died in that chess game in first year before I'm finished with you, you treacherous, lying viper of a hypocrite.

"And even Longbottom. LONGBOTTOM!" Snape sounded resigned now. He hugged the table rather closely. "Of course, Longbottom could use all the help he ever gets. But he would faint before I even touched him." Harry dearly hoped so. Otherwise he would stupefy him. For good.

"And of course the little bastard himself. Finnigan. Who found it so funny to tease me". Snape showed a malicious grin. Harry was horrified. Seamus? Seamus had – come again? "Wanted to end what he had begun. Saucy wretch". Snape fondled the table and smiled.

Harry fumed. He would kill Seamus, long and slow, yes. He had it coming for years, the little Irish son of a bitch, that traitorous no-good foolish idiot of a hypocritical ...

"Then again – there is someone missing." Snape stared directly at Harry whose heart skipped a beat. Snape's hand was not shaking at all and his eyes were as still and dangerous, as cool and calm as they had been for years. The drunkenness was gone. Now he got up with a singular grace and was directly in front of Harry glaring down at him. No, he couldn't see through the cloak, Harry prayed. Please, dear god. He can't. I'll be a good boy ever after. He simply can't see through it. He couldn't in first year. He missed me. It was close, but he missed me. He can't.

The cloak was taken away from him and thrown to the floor. "Not so much as all that", the silky voice said and the black eyes penetrated Harry to the core. "Mr. Potter. What a pleasure to meet you. Would you like to – talk?"