The longer the old ladies in the portraits went on, the deeper and deeper set Snape's scowl was becoming with each mouthful of ice cream. A bitter irony; just when he thought he had found himself a peaceful hidey-hole, it turned out to be full of Black worshippers - just like everywhere else.
Snape took another swig and shuddered slightly as a slightly nauseous feeling washed over him. He pressed his teeth together...how bloody inconvenient – he needed the toilet; preferably now rather than later. And Potter was up there...Snape shrugged; and so what? He'd been wanting to get Potter on his own for years – see if he was such a big man without the likes of Black by his side.
And besides, with the discovery of this room, he now had something interesting to relay back to base...Potter was obviously holding big and important Auror meetings in a secret room like this – something the Dark Lord would find very interesting indeed...
Snape gave a sly grin as he reached into his robe pocket and pulled out his vial of pepper up. He stared at it for a few seconds before putting it away again. He would wait a little longer before taking it...after all it was sort of pleasant feeling the way he did. Sharper...more focused...but so relaxed at the same time...Snape rose to his feet. If he could stand, well, he could certainly make it up the stairs.
click.click.click.click.click.click.click.
"AAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!"
A loud sound of hissing and the strong smell of burnt human hair filled the dark kitchen.
"I WIN" roared the triumphant voice of Sirius Black over the catcalls and raucous laughter. "I survived twenty five seconds! No more challengers, so that means I'm the hardest! So get the champion a drink you weak pussy!"
Lupin found the bottom of the stairs and sat, swirling the glass round. Pansies...pansies...pansies.
He sighed. The smell of Snape in the Potters' home was so faint now, he had to have gone. Lupin took a small metal bottle out of a pocket, poured some of his drink into it and screwed the cap back on tightly. He would just have to find out what this stuff was later...
Lupin was so preoccupied with thinking about potions that he near started in surprise when he heard the creak of the hall cupboard opening not too far away from him. Strange. He quietly pocketed the bottle and stood stiffly. He sniffed the air, and felt the back of his neck prickle as he recognised the fresh scent in the hallway. And by the sounds of it, he owner of it was heading right for him.
Snape kept hold of the cupboard door for support and groped around for a wall to follow. For fuck's sake, why was the hallway blacker than the inside of a burnt cauldron? How was he meant to find his way up the blasted stairs now!?!
Lupin swallowed nervously as Snape made his way along the wall. Should he alert him before he reached him – or wait for the inevitable? He did need to talk to him, but on the flip side it was a very, very bad idea to surprise Severus Snape.
Snape was making steady progress. He paused. Now if he was not mistaken – the stair post should be just about...here.
Lupin tried not to flinch as the Slytherin's bony hand grabbed hold of his shoulder and groped it.
Snape frowned. He didn't remember the stairpost having coats hung on it, but, oh well. He took a step up.
Lupin crammed his hand into his mouth to stifle a yell as a dragon hide boot came into contact with the first step, and his fingers. Oooh, that hurt!
Snape took another step, and took a white knuckled grip on the banister, (which fortunately for Lupin was actually the banister, and not him this time.) Lupin held his breath as Snape clambered past him, and let out a sigh of relief once he had passed.
He flexed his fingers, wincing. Close wasn't the word.
While the talk in the study barely veered off Quidditch, the noisy games continued on in the kitchen and living room. As was true of many parties, each room of people seemed oblivious to anything that might be happening in adjacent rooms.
"I loved you," whispered Lily finally, breaking the terrible silence between them.
Nigel snorted derisively and moodily pulled himself away; it was the last straw as far as he was concerned. Lily's heart wrenched as she heard him snatch open the door and escape into the hallway.
She made sure he was just out of earshot until she added bitterly to the darkness,
"And I still love you."
Snape took each stair cautiously. There would be no mistakes – checking his robe for foot clearance; one hand gripping the banister, his jaw tensing each time he made a step cre-eak...
The last thing he would want to do here is trip up – he'd already got pretty bored of being jeered at. And falling flat on his twice mended nose would probably mean an extreme pushing of luck to hope Lily'd fix it a third time.
On reaching the top step Snape allowed himself a few seconds to get his bearings and survey the dim landing. Four doors, presumably bedroom one, bedroom two, some sort of cupboard and a bathroom.
Cautiously he tried the first door on his left. It was a small robe storage cupboard of some sort. A dry, fragrant smell wafted out, powerfully reminding him of Lily at school. There had always been the scent of Jasmine around her. Sitting at the same group of tables in potions...
"Mmm..." he hummed absent-mindedly, his eyes half closed.
It should be becoming clearer to the outside observer that the alcohol Snape had so aggressively necked back was steadily beginning to break down the safety wall between his Ego and his Id. The safety wall in the human brain which normally resists and filters out subconscious desires, was rapidly being demolished brick by brick, and reason was drowning in alcohol.
Yes, he, Snape had been drunk once before. It had been on Butterbeer, illegally. (Damned Rosier's idea.) And of course an experience he hardly cared to repeat since it had resulted in a visit to the hospital wing, being force-fed full-strength emergency regurgitation draught, and enduring a good deal of smirks from his housemates for weeks afterward.
As such, Snape had never actually tried Firewhisky 'til this evening, and so the real dangers of it were unfamiliar to him. He had previously sworn never to touch it...but a house full of Gryffindors and dogs, (who seemed to be alternately wanting to speak with, come on to, and drool on him in turn) had skewed his morals. The infuriating Muggle appliances had hardly helped either. In fact, what he'd been through in the past few hours would have probably driven the most zealously anti alcohol activist Ravenclaw to drink. And he had done well on only half a bottle...
Snape felt a pleasurable tingle down his back. He had never felt so...relaxed? It was as if all the important issues in his life were muffled and didn't matter, and were floating above him on the surface, while he was diving, suspended peacefully in the calm waters.
And that damn cupboard smelt so damn nice. He was a born cynic about any sort of religion...but if there ever was a heaven, Snape believed with no doubt that it would smell of jasmine...
The dining room door clicked open. Lupin stood and cleared his throat to reveal his presence.
"Who's there?" growled Norway.
"Only Remus Lupin," was the reply.
"Oh thank Merlin, Remus," came Lily's relieved voice.
"Seen Snape, Remus?" enquired Norway gruffly.
Remus paused. He didn't like Norway's tone – it sounded almost predatory. "I...think I last saw him in the kitchen," he replied clearly.
"Good," was the smart reply. Lupin heard the kitchen door wrench open. The sound of cheering and raucous laughter spilled into the hallway.
"Promise me!" he heard Lily say worriedly over the noise. As the kitchen door shut Lupin was positive he didn't hear a reply. He moved closer.
"Thank you Remus, you are truly a lifesaver," sighed Lily resignedly, feeling her way into the cupboard. A few flips of switches later and the lights were back on.
The two of them squinted in the sudden brightness. As Lupin's eyes adjusted, he was taken aback by the state of Lily's face. Pale and red eyed, she looked as if something had really, really upset her.
"He's upstairs really," commented Lupin softly. "And he is very, very drunk."
"Oh, good," she replied quietly. "Nigel's after his blood, and the less Severus knows about it, the better." She gave a hollow, nervous laugh.
"And Nigel's only known Snape five minutes," jested Remus. Imagine what he'd be like if he'd known him half his life, like us poor wretches?"
"Imagine," replied Lily faintly.