A.N: I'm not going to be home in able to update this weekend, so I'm doing it today. Mom's sick, so I'm home to help out.

Hipa was my first (online) reviewer, so hipa's my favourite. LOL

Britt, I didn't make you sound like a bitch. I made you sound like its thanks to you that I finished it, therefore you can't be a bitch. I'm locking my door tonight and taking the quarter.

MoroTheWolfGod, thanks for reviewing. It makes me very happy. I only have 3 reviews on my other story, and it has 6 posts so far. Tear.

Speaking of, my other story is called Lost Unity, and only XxRoGuExHeArTxX has reviewed it (online) so she's my favourite on that one. HOWEVER, if I get more reviews on it, I may have several favourites (hint hint). LOL

Enjoy!

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Severus Snape leaned back in his chair and stretched. The exams were complete. Tomorrow he would bring in the written OWLs and NEWTs and begin those. He smiled faintly to himself, pleased.

Plus, he reminded himself, the little bastard children would be gone in eight days. Then he could go home and relax. That reminded him of something…

Oh. That.

Next week would have been Remus and his one-year anniversary. His mood plummeted instantly, and he wondered what he'd done with that bottle of fire whiskey.

He walked slowly to the ingredient cabinet, moved it and went through the hidden doorway to his chambers. The same chambers where, not even a full month ago, his heart had shattered.

He found the whiskey in his room sitting on his dresser. He didn't remember putting it there. He went back to the living room to finish it off. It wasn't enough to get much of a buzz, but it numbed a little.

He stewed in his thoughts for almost an hour before he decided to go to bed. On the way he stopped outside the second bedroom. It had never been used that way; Severus rarely had guests, and certainly never ones that stayed that night… except Remus, but there had been room enough for two in Severus' bed. Not needing the second bedroom, Severus had long since gotten rid of the furniture and changes it into a studio. Few people knew of his passion for art, which rivalled his passion for potions.

He entered the studio now, and the candles lining the walls instantly spluttered to life, throwing long, moving shadows along the floor. At the back of the room were canvases of all sizes, of scenery, people, still lifes. The largest was a view of the mountains around Hogwarts. Along one wall were sculptures, all unfinished clay. Along the other were shelves, piled high with tools; pastels, chalk and oil; paints, water colours mostly, but there were some acrylics; brushes that ranged fro the finest you could find to large ones, the kind one used on walls; many sharp and rounded objects, for sculpting and scratchboard. Several shelves also held books of all sizes, about different styles and types of art, a couple from Remus on Muggle artists and styles, and biographies on some of the most famous. Had several on the 1700's goblin painter Clawfoot, who painted with his enemies blood, and Eugene Sherb, a wizard form the earlier part of the 1600's who specialized in acrylic paints.

The last wall happened to be his favourite. Half of it was also shelved, but the openings were only about an inch and a half wide. This is were his pastel compositions went. The half not blocked by the shelves had a desk, which could be tilted up while working. Currently discarded on it were his failed attempts at scratchboard. They were terrible in his opinion, but Remus had quite liked them. Remus was one of two people, the other being Dumbledore, his school-bound sanctuary.

He wondered around, looking over his works, criticizing and evaluating. He stopped in front of an acrylic he had done just this last Christmas. It was of the mountains near his home at sunset; he'd done it from his roof. It was a Muggle style called Impressionist- made out of dots of colour, not necessarily in any order. There were no definite, hard lines. It was Remus' favourite. Severus had been going to give it to him for his birthday.

Severus left the room, his heart heavy and his throat tight. He searched the cupboards until he found a bottle of brandy. He drank the entire thing and passed out on his bed, a picture of a smiling and happy couple under his hand.