"Severus?"

Aislinn slipped carefully into his office, sidestepping a pile of broken glass by the door. She squinted down at the glittering mass, and her eyes picked out a rod about as big around as a pencil, and a neatly curving disc that had been broken in half. The rest of the glass was little more than shards, but that was enough to tell her that Severus had not been drinking directly from the bottle for the entire time he'd been sitting there.

Her attention didn't linger long on the broken glass, though, as it was the Potions professor who had drawn the gasp from her to begin with. He was sitting in a chair in front of the fire, staring unseeing into the flames, slouched in the chair. He looked worse than usual, if that was possible; his hair hung limply in his face, which was smudged with soot, and a nasty cut by his right eye was beginning to crust with a suspicious-looking combination of blood, puss and dirt. His eyes were bloodshot, but wide open, rimmed in red, though there were no streaks in the soot on his face, so she deducted that the redness had not been brought on by tears. She wsn't sure if she was relieved or not on that point. His robes were filthy, even the black cloth showing traces of mud, stiffening in places with blood. So much blood, she noted distantly. How much of it is yours, Severus Snape? She approached him carefully, much the way she would a wild animal, and knelt beside him, a few feet away.

"Severus?" she asked again, but he didn't so much as move. On the floor beside him were three empty bottles, and in his right hand, dangling from the arm of the chair, he clutched a fourth bottle which appeared to be half-empty already. Aislinn shuddered involuntarily at how much alcohol he had already consumed. The knuckles on his right hand were white, as though he were clutching the bottle tightly, and she wondered if he was really so oblivious to her as she had thought he was. Her heart was thudding more loudly now, as though it were trying to pound its way into her throat.

"Severus!" Her voice was more firm this time, and she was rewarded by a brief flick of his eyes in her direction, though the sense of accomplishment was somewhat diminished by the terrifyingly hollow expression on his face. "Why don't you give me that bottle?" she suggested, edging towards him slowly, keeping her eyes locked on his. "And then let's go find a nice, warm bed. You're very tired, aren't you, Severus?"

She lifted a hand slowly, and touched the bottle in his hand. Surprisingly, he relinquished his hold on it easily, and she set it aside. "Come on, now," she whispered, sliding her hand into his and lacing her fingers through his. His fingers curled around her, almost instinctively, and she edged a little closer. "Come on," she repeated firmly, tugging gently on his hand. He stood unsteadily, and she stood as well, moving closer to him, drawing his arm around her shoulders and bracing her own arm across his waist. "Slowly," she said softly, guiding him to take a shaking step, then another. "Watch the glass," she advised as they neared the door.

Slowly, painstakingly, they made their way out of his office, Aislinn whispering 'Nox' into the room and the lights all blinking out and cloaking the dungeons in utter darkness again.

"What time ish it?" His words, though slurred, were a relief and Aislinn squeezed his hand gently.

"Late," she whispered, steering him towards the stairs. "Do you think you can make it up?"

His head jerked back and he seemed to have a hard time concentrating on the stairs, but he nodded. Aislinn watched doubtfully, but positioned him so he was trapped between her and the wall. "All right, then," she directed, "step up. Good. And again…" It was apainstakingly slow process of getting up the stairs, one step at a time, each time Severus wavering on the brink of falling over. Aislinn wasn't sure she could do anything about it if he did decide to fall backward, so she kept their pace slow and meticulous, prompting him to step up again and again. Just one step at a time, she thought determinedly. Don't worry about what's ahead or what behind, just one step at a time. When they finally reached the ground floor, Aislinn directed him to lean against a wall, keeping her arm firmly about his waist as he seemed to show an inclination to slide down that wall. Oh, no you don't, she thought firmly, if you stop now, I'll never get you a step farther. I can't bloody well carry you. On we go again.

They wound through the corridors, and, after a moment, it became painfully obvious that taking him to his own quarters was out of the question. Which was likely just as well considering the state of that cut on his head. "Let's get you to the hospital wing," she muttered, half under her breath, not really talking to him so much as herself. To her surprise, though, he saw fit to answer with a resounding and frightful bit of stubbornness.

"No!" he hissed, "No hoshpital. No."

"Severus," she said reasonably, "you're injured. Madame Pomfrey needs to tend that cut and…"

"NO!" he nearly shouted that time and jerked away from her, sumbling dangerously close to a staircase. Aislinn grabbed for his arm again and pulled him back to the middle of the corridor.

"All right!" she hissed, "no hospital wing. Have it your way!" I'll just find Pomfrey and bring her to you, wherever we end up putting you. And where is that going to be, anyway?

She spent a moment thinking, and noticed that he was leaning more heavily on her. She didn't think she'd have the energy to go very far with him. Well, she thought idly, I guess the options are a classroom, the staffroom, or my own rooms. A classroom, really, was out of the question. She didn't know how long it would take him to recover, nor did she know what time it was, but she was afraid it would be morning before he was ready to move again once he was allowed to settle somewhere. The staff room was a better option, but there was nowhere for him to lie comfortably in there. Not that it would likely matter to him if he spent the night in a chair, she thought as his head lolled to once side. Her rooms were farther away than any of the previous options, and for a moment, she considered the hospital wing again. If she didn't tell him that's where they were going, there was a good chance that he wouldn't realize it until morning. If he realized it then.

"No hoshpital," he said again, quietly but firmly, causing Aislinn to look critically at him. And are you reading my mind, Severus Snape? she asked him silently.

"No," she conceded, "no hospital." Even if it would be convenient and he wouldn't know about it right away, he would certainly deduct it soon enough and she had no real desire to betray his trust over something so trivial. "Come on," she sighed, steering him towards her rooms, "you can sleep in my room tonight."

When they finally reached Aislinn's rooms, she was out of breath, but, she noted with a degree of interest, it wasn't even one am yet. She considered dropping him on her couch in her sitting room, but decided with a sigh that he'd really be less in the way in her bedroom. And less inclined to notice when she slipped out to get Pomfrey and Dumbledore in a few minutes. She guided him into the bedroom and looked around, not really wanting to drop him on her bed given how filthy he was. She maneuvered him to a plain wooden chair that normally she only used as a makeshift table and settled him into it, taking a minute to assure herself that he wasn't going to topple out. When she thought he was planted securely in it, she slipped into her bathroom and found a cloth which she wet with warm water and a couple of towels. She settled herself on her knees in front of him. "Let's get you cleaned up a bit, all right?" she whispered, taking his face firmly in her left hand and dabbing gently at the cut with her right hand. He drew in his breath sharply as she touched it, but he did nothing else to indicate that he even knew she was there, and, when she'd managed to clean it as best she could, she noted with some relief that it wasn't as bad as she'd thought at first.

She gave his hand a soft pat, then slipped back into her bathroom to wet the cloth again, and to find three more cloths, which she also doused; given the filth the first one had cleaned off him, she had a feeling it was either use several cloths or make repeated trips to rinse of the one. When she touched him again, his eyes flung open, and he stared at her with a wild look in his eyes for a moment, then seemed to calm again. She hummed softly and nervously as she dabbed at the soot and dirt and blood on his face, gently massaging a few strands of his hair where a clot of blood had dried and matted. When she was satisfied that his face was as clean as she wsa going to get it without actually dropping him in the bathtub, she moved to his hands, which were the only other skin visible outside of his robes. She scrubbed each of his fingers and his palms carefully, stealing a glance at his face every so often. He seemed to be asleep.

Once his hands were clean, she carefully lifted a foot and eased off one of his boots, then the other. She set the boots aside, and stood, loosening his robe and pulling it free as well. To her relief, the worst of the filth seemed to be on the robe, and after a cursory glance, she decided he could remain dressed the rest of the way until he was in the bed. "Come on, Severus," she whispered softly, taking his hands again. His eyes drifted open, and she noted that they seemed more focused this time. "Let's get you into the bed, hm?" She braced herself to practically lift him from the chair, but found that he helped her quite a bit. "There you go," she said softly, approvingly, as she directed him towards the bed. Once he was seated there, and before he had the chance to fall back into it, she relieved him of his shirt, unbuttoning it enough that she could pull it off over his head. She tossed it to the floor with the sodden robe. "All right," she whispered, "you can lie down now." She put a hand behind his head, supporting his neck as she lowered him onto the bed. "And I'm just going to take your trousers, and then I'll leave you alone, all right?" she whispered.

Her hands moved to his waist to unbutton the trousers, and she felt a hand close around her wrist. She gasped, and looked up at him. His eyes were barely open, but he seemed to be making an effort to focus on her. "Leave them," he said softly.

She looked at him doubtfully for a moment. "Wouldn't you be more comfortable if I…"

He still had her wrist in his hand, though, and he shook his head slightly. "Thank you," he whispered.

Aislinn nodded in consent, and moved her hands to his knees instead. "All right," she said softly, "let's just get you under the blankets then. There we are…" she tucked the sheet and blanket under his chin and smiled at him. His eyes were closed again, and his breathing was already turning slow and even. She couldn't help moving a stray strand of hair from his face, smoothing it back from his eyes as he lay there, and, she leaned down to touch her lips softly to his temple, then shook her head slightly. What have you been up to? she wondered, shaking her head and moving off to pick up the mess she'd made tending to him.

Once she'd tidied up a bit, it was 1:30, and Aislinn was yawning, but she still had to fetch Pomfrey and Dumbledore before she could call it a night and…

"Please…"

Aislinn looked over to the bed, where Severus was tossing his head back and forth on the pillow, an occasional moan escaping his lips. She moved over to the bedside and sat on the edge of the mattress, smoothing his hair from his face again. "Shhh…" she whispered, stroking his hair. "It's just a dream. It can't hurt you," she said softly. That, she knew, was utter nonsense; dreams could hurt, but it sounded more comforting to tell him they could not. After a moment, he fell silent and still again, and Aislinn rose slowly, quietly stepping away from him. She had her hand on the door when she heard a whisper from the direction of the bed.

"Don't go."

She turned to look at him again, and to her surprise, found his eyes open and focused on her. "I'm just going to get Madame Pomfrey to look at your head," she said softly.

"It's just a scratch," he whispered. "Please, Aislinn?"

She hesitated, then nodded and moved back to the bed. "All right," she conceded, sitting beside him. "I'm here. Go to sleep now," she whispered, and he closed his eyes obediently.

Note to self, she thought cynically, if you want him to cooperate, saturate him with wine first. She settled down beside him, her arm draped across him. I'll just stay until he goes to sleep, she thought, and concentrated on his breathing, waiting for it to fall into the steady rhythm of slumber. She never head it settle to that rhythm, though, as she fell asleep before he did.

hr

Aislinn woke with a start, and nearly screamed when she realized there was someone in her bed, but caught herself just in time. Severus. Why…? She frowned at the fact that she was lying on top of the blankets while he was under them. His head was cradled in the crook of her arm, and she glanced at the clock. Five o'clock. She slowly disentangled herself from him, leaving him sleeping peacefully. He snored softly, and she nearly fainted; his breath was enough to pickle a pumpkin! What on earth…? Slowly, the midnight trip to the dungeons and the process of bringing him back to her rooms came back to her, and, with a start, she remembered his head. She peered intently at the cut, and grimaced at it; it was an angry red now, and crusted slightly and still oozing. Madame Pomfrey needed to look at that…

Madame Pomfrey! And Dumbledore. She'd been intending to wait until he fell asleep, then summon those two. With another look at the sleeping form of Severus, and a self conscious hand forked through her hair, she straightened her dressing gown (which she was thankful to notice was still wrapped tightly around her). She stood slowly, and slipped out of her rooms, making her way carefully to the hospital wing. When she arrived, Pomfrey was already there, checking on one of the students, and Aislinn wondered idly how early the Mediwitch rose in the mornings to be looking so settled already. She cleared her throat softly, and caught Pomfrey's eye, and the older witch came bustling over.

"My dear, you look positively ill. Are you all right? Do you have a headache again?"

Aislinn waved away the concern and interrupted her. "It isn't me," she insisted, "it's Severus. He's injured. He's in my room right now and… NO!" The look that had flickered across Poppy's face was enough to make Aislinn protest. "It's nothing like that! I just… he… Oh, bloody hell. He has a cut on his head and I think it's infected and…" she trailed off again. "WILL YOU STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT!" With a huff, she whirled away from the nurse whose knowing look had turned into a bewildered one. "My door is unlocked," Aislinn whispered, "I'm going to talke to the Headmaster. Excuse me."

Fifteen minutes, Aislinn returned to her rooms, Dumbledore behind her, and found Madame Pomfrey administering something to Severus' forehead. Something which caused him to wince repeatedly. Aislinn had told Dumbledore about finding Severus in his office, obviously incapacitated (she left out the detail that he was so drunk he'd barely been able to stand) and that she'd brought him to her rooms to sleep (including the explanation of why she'd not taken him to the hospital wing. She'd explained that she had intended to alert him immediately, but had fallen asleep (neglecting to mention that Severus had asked her to stay with him, and therefore skipping the entire matter of dreams, both Severus' and her own.) Dumbledore, for his part, had nodded thoughtfully, but she didn't think he was fooled for a moment by what she'd left out of her story.

A look passed between Severus and Dumbledore, and there was a palpable tension in the air suddenly. "Poppy," Dumbledore was saying, "could I convince you to allow Aislinn the use of your rooms while she gets ready for the day? I would like to have a few words with Severus, and he doesn't appear in the condition to move anywhere just yet. Don't worry, Aislinn, I'll see to it that he makes it to his own rooms during the day." Aislinn nearly protested, but ended up nodding instead.

"Of course," she said softly, and moved herself to her wardrobe and gathered the things she would need for the day. Poppy led her through the corridors of the castle and to a room near the Hospital Wing.

"You'll find towels in the cupboard, there," she pointed. "When you're finished, just leave them on the rack in the shower, and I'll take care of them."

Aislinn nodded. "Thank you," she said softly, her mind still on Severus. A hand on her arm startled her slightly.

"I didn't mean to imply anything earlier," the nurse was saying quietly, "I'm sorry. Even if I did suspect something, there was no reason for me to act like I did."

Aislinn shrugged uncomfortably. "Don't give it another thought," she insisted, then stepped into the bathroom and shut the door firmly behind her.

hr

By the time second period rolled around, it was hardly a surprise that the entire student body seemed to be buzzing with speculation abou what precisely was wrong with Professor Snape. Aislinn had heard a number of theories by the time her second class came trudging in, though none of them, fortunately, were even vaguely resembling of the truth. But then, she thought with a touch of humor, who would expect that the dour professor is in my personal rooms sleeping off what seems to have been quite a wild night for him? Aislinn couldn't deny that she was curious as to how Severus came to be in the condition he was in, but she certainly wasn't revealing to the students that she knew anything more than they did.

Which, she noted cynically, didn't seem to deter them from asking.

"Professor?"

Aislinn finished with her roll sheet and looked up. "Yes, Mr. Arnold?" she asked.

"Do you know what happened to Snape? He's never missed a potions class before."

Aislinn folded her arms and leaned against her desk, watching the young man who'd spoken. You see, he's sleeping off the after effects of a neat little hangover. Quite a stunning tolerance for wine, really. Wouldn't have expected it of him. Hell, I bet that three and a half bottles of wine would even put old McGonagall under the table and she could drink a fish to shame. She allowed a hint of a smile to touch her lips. "That," she said aloud, "is a question for Professor Snape," she said, placing an emphasis on 'Professor' as a subtle reminder that students had no business referring to their teachers so disrespectfully.

"But Professor," this time it was a Ravenclaw girl speaking up. "Is he all right? I heard that he was in a coma!"

Aislinn raised an eyebrow. "Then I would encourage you to carefully consider the source of you information," she suggested. "Now, if there are no more questions about Professor Snape…?" She meant it as sarcasm, but another hand came up. Sighing softly, she pointed with her wand. "Yes, Miss Mitchell?"

"When will he be back?" the girl asked and Aislinn snorted softly.

"Really, all of you, I'm sure Professor Snape will be touched to discover his students are so concerned about him, but this is not the time for it. If you want to write him a get well card, I will see it delivered to him." There was a twitter through the class that made Aislinn's eyes widen a fraction. "Is there something amusing about that?" she asked, but no one offered her an answer. She pushed herself away from her desk and walked slowly across the room, leaning against the wall. "Well?" she asked, "I'm waiting. Why is the idea of writing Professor Snape a get well card so funny?"

Students were looking at each other, and then finally one girl offered, "Because he's Professor Snape! I mean, he'd probably give us detentions for it!"

Aislinn lifted an eyebrow. "You think so, do you? I'd like to offer you all a reminder. Contrary to what seems to be popular opinion among the students, I can assure you all that Professor Snape is, in fact, a human, and most humans appreciate evidence that others care about them. Just keep that in mind. Whether you write him a card or not." She walked back to the front of the class and cleared her throat and her mind.

"Today," she began her lesson, "we will start with a new unit. Tarot. Now, who has read the assignment and can tell me the first card of the Major Arcana?"

Four hands shot into the air, and Aislinn picked a Hufflepuff. "The Fool ," he replied promptly.

The Fool. How many of us are fools? she wondered quietly.