Disclaimer: None of the recognizable characters and settings belong to me. They are all the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling. I'm just playing around with them for the fun of it…no monetary gain is sought.

This story is dedicated to scattered logic for her cherished friendship and all her invaluable help.

Chapter Twenty Four: Drowning of Sorrows

The drafty, dim halls of the old castle were virtually silent at this late hour as Snape swept through them on his way to Minerva's rooms. His mind still couldn't completely grasp the fact that she'd actually resigned. Trying to imagine Hogwarts without Minerva in it was almost inconceivable to him. She'd always been there and always should be. Life would lose so much of its pleasure without her. Who would he argue with? What fun would it be to take points away from Gryffindor House if she wasn't there to be disgruntled about it? Winning the Quidditch cup wouldn't be half as satisfying if she wasn't there to shine covetous eyes on it and plot to win it back. She couldn't leave. She simply couldn't. If she left him, then they'd never get another chance to…

Alarm caused his steps to falter. What if he was already too late? Albus said that she'd submitted her resignation that afternoon. What if she'd packed up immediately and left even before dinner? No. If she'd already left the castle, the insidious network of house-elf spies would've informed Dumbledore, and he wouldn't have been sent on this errand.

Surely, she wouldn't leave without saying goodbye to him? He frowned darkly as he turned the corner into her corridor. Not that he'd have been here to receive her goodbye if she'd offered it, having been summoned to dance attendance on the devil all evening. Anyway, considering the current state of their relationship, she might very well leave without telling him. No doubt she believed that he wouldn't care.

When he arrived at her door, he wasted no time in knocking firmly and stood waiting for an answer with an impatient frown on his face. When no answer was forthcoming, he knocked again…even more firmly. By applying his ear to the door and listening intently, he could discern faint sounds of movement on the other side. Someone was definitely in there. It had to be her.

Snape opened his mouth and added an entreaty to his third knock. "I know you're in there, Minerva, so there's no point in trying to deceive me. Open this door. We need to talk."

Just as the frustrated Snape was fingering his wand and trying to decide how best to open the door himself, it was flung back, and he was faced with an amazing vision that swayed gently in the doorway facing him. Minerva stood unsteadily in front of him with bleary unfocused eyes and peered carefully up into his face as if she was trying to figure out who on earth he was.

With her tangled hair floating around her like a shawl, she looked like some sort of fairy child who'd lost her way and wasn't quite sure where she was. The usually primly attired woman wore nothing on her slender form but a rather flimsy nightgown that was far too light for the season, and far too revealing for her to be wearing it where anyone else would see her. Her robe trailed after her like a bridal train, suspended from her elbows and threatening to fall to the floor unnoticed at any moment. One dangling hand held a mostly empty bottle of whisky clasped tightly in its grasp, and one strap of her lavender gown had slid unnoticed halfway down her arm, permitting a generous slice of her bosom to be viewed by any who might glance her way. And Snape was doing a whole lot more than glancing. He stared.

His jaw actually dropped open at this astounding sight. Here was something that he'd never expected to encounter. Angry Minerva, frustrated Minerva, even sad and crying Minerva, yes…but Minerva McGonagall so plastered that she couldn't even see straight? No. Not that she was a tea-totaller by any means, but even on that well remembered night when they'd first begun their private liaison, she'd still known who he was and had retained the ability to walk a straight line with only a little deviation from the center. Clearly at the moment, though, the only thing keeping Minerva upright was her own determination and sheer dumb luck.

She frowned up at him and shook her head, causing her body to lurch wildly, and Snape to reach out to try to steady her and keep her from falling gracelessly to the floor. "Careful, Minerva. Perhaps you should sit down."

"I don't need to sit down," she exclaimed with fervor as she tried without success to shake off his restraining hand. Determinedly, she looked up into his face once more, and suddenly her expression brightened like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.

"Shevrous…is that you?"

As he grimaced at her mangling of his name, it occurred to him how much he'd always enjoyed hearing her say his name aloud. With her soft burr, her lovely accent had always made his name sound much less harsh than it tended to on the lips of others.

"Yes, Minerva, it's me. We need to talk. May I come in?"

"Talk?" Her frown returned, and she shook her head fiercely. "You haven't wanted to talk to me lately. You don't trust me anymore. Don't want me. Did Albus send you? That old goat. He'll try anything to get me to stay, but it won't work. No, sir. It's none of his business. It's none of yours, either." She aimed a finger at his chest and thrust forward with it, missing by almost a foot.

Then, with extra effort, she managed to pull her arm from his grasp and stumbled back away from him. Before she went sprawling on the floor though, she somehow managed to regain her balance and, turning her back on him, she swayed her way across the room towards the door to her balcony.

Snape hurriedly stepped inside the room and shut the door firmly behind him. The last thing they'd need was for some wandering student to get a glimpse of her in this condition. Whatever her problems were, that could only make them worse.

The room he entered, usually so neat and tidy, looked as if it had been searched by an incompetent. There were two partially packed trunks standing open near the bookcases. Yet most of the clothing, books and other items that were no doubt intended to go into them were still strewn haphazardly around on every surface.

Obviously, she'd been distracted by the liquor before she'd made that much headway with her packing. Just as well for him, he supposed. At least it meant that she hadn't managed to leave before he could talk to her, though he'd never known her to utterly lose control this way. Whatever had caused this reaction must be more serious than he'd imagined.

Very concerned now, he followed in her unsteady footsteps and watched as she upended her bottle to take a rather large swig, managing to spill a portion of the drink down the front of her gown in the process. She jumped as the liquor ran down between her breasts and wiped inaccurately at herself before upending the bottle once more and finishing it off completely.

"Oh, dear, that's all of it," she complained and let the bottle fall unheeded to the floor along with one of the sleeves of her robe. She staggered once more and reached out a hand to steady herself against the back of her desk chair. "I know there's another bottle here somewhere," she murmured softly while she looked vaguely around her as if expecting it to simply step up and introduce itself.

Snape reached out, grasping her arm as gently as he could and still maintain a grip, and tried to steer her back into the room towards the sofa near the fire.

"I don't think another bottle is necessary at the moment. Perhaps, it would be best if you sat down for a while. Then we could talk."

"Who?" Apparently, she'd forgotten his presence already and seemed surprised when he took her arm. "Oh…Sevrious…what are you doing here?"

With a grim expression on his face, he tightened his grip and began to lead her across the room towards the hearth, while trying to keep them both from tripping over her trailing robe.

"I'm here to find out why you want to leave us," he stated quietly.

"Leave you? I don't want to leave you," she exclaimed heatedly, stopping dead in the middle of the room. "I just have no choice. No choice at all."

"Why don't you have any choice, Minerva?" Snape asked as he searched her face for answers.

Her eyes filled with tears in an instant, and she reached a shaking hand up to lightly caress the side of his face. "I can't tell you…I can't. I wish…I…ohhh…" Suddenly, she moaned softly, her eyes rolled closed, and she collapsed as if her strings had been cut.

Caught by surprise, Snape barely managed to catch her as she fell. He swung her limp form up into his arms, paying no attention to the fact that her robe fluttered to the floor behind them, and carried her into her bedroom, laying her gently on the top of her bed. The room in here was only slightly disarrayed with the wardrobe hanging open and a few stray possessions out of their usual places, but for the most part, things were still well organized and most of her clothes were packed neatly into a practically full trunk. Obviously, she'd begun her packing in here and had made good progress before becoming sidetracked by the bottle of whisky.

With a frown, Snape turned his concentration back to the unconscious woman on the bed. He didn't like what he saw. Colorful bruises stood out up and down the length of her upper arms where someone with strong hands had obviously grabbed hold of her roughly, more than once. Some of the marks had faded to a sickly yellow, while others still remained purple or black. The red mark that he'd noticed on her throat the previous evening stood out against the pale flesh even more strongly now than when freshly made. Her face looked drawn and tired with the delicate flesh under her eyes darkened in reminiscence of yet more bruising.

Gently, he reached out and pulled the strap of her nightgown back up into its normal position and ran a caressing hand through her tangled hair and down over her flushed cheek. What the hell was wrong? What had that bastard Standish done to her to produce this sort of completely uncharacteristic effect? It was apparent that he'd physically abused her while he was here, but this reaction seemed to be about more than that. Something was seriously wrong. He'd never seen Minerva come unglued like this. She, more than anyone else he knew, was always calm and controlled and able to handle anything that life threw at her. She was a fighter…yet she seemed to have given up the fight…why?

Obviously, he wasn't going to be getting any answers out of her until he sobered her up. He had some sober-up potion down in his quarters. Did he dare to leave her for long enough to go and get it? Surely, she'd be all right for a short time. Without intervention, she was likely to remain unconscious for hours anyway.

Thoughtfully, he ran a gentle finger along the side of her cheek once more and smiled a slightly dark-edged smile. He should probably also bring along a follow up potion to deal with the nausea and headache that were sure to arise with sobriety. Though it was always entertaining to watch others have to deal with the aftereffects of overindulgence, it wouldn't be particularly useful in this case, and he wanted to spare her any more pain if possible. Not to mention that if she was too hungover, he wasn't likely to get the answers that he sought.

With a final concerned glance at the sleeping woman, Snape got up off of the bed and left the room swiftly. Almost as an afterthought, he paused to erect new wards on her door that would allow him to reenter at will, but that would prevent her from leaving. There was a slim chance that she might regain consciousness before he could return and attempt to wander off somewhere, and that would be a disaster. Once that was completed, he set off for the dungeon as quickly as he could go.

When Snape returned a short time later, he reentered Minerva's bedroom to find the woman on her feet clinging to one of the twisted mahogany bedposts and swaying dangerously. Amazed that she'd be conscious again so quickly, the Potions master crossed to her dresser to set his vials of potion down where they'd be safe before moving across the room towards her with the idea of getting her to lie back down on the bed.

As he approached, she raised her head and saw him coming. Breaking into a happy smile, she let go of the bedpost to reach for him. He stepped close enough to grab her just as she lurched unsteadily against him, causing them both to overbalance and fall together to the floor. Cursing under his breath, Snape nevertheless managed to twist around just enough to be the one who landed first on the carpet with her sprawled out on top of him.

The impact with the rather solid floor knocked the wind out of the Potions master, and while he was recovering his breath, the inebriated woman on his chest crawled much more firmly on top of him and began to nuzzle his neck affectionately.

All the while she was kissing him, she was murmuring in a plaintive tone, "Make love to me, Sevrous. That used to be so much fun. Why did we stop?" Her hands began to skim down over his body, flirting with the buttons of his frock coat as she rubbed her body seductively against his.

The stunned man groaned low in his throat, gritted his teeth, and tried to pry her off of him. "Not now, Minerva. I have something for you to drink. I need you to drink it before we do anything else, all right?"

To his shock, she lifted her head and giggled. "I've already had a drink…lots of them…" As he stared up at her, she returned to trying to unbutton his coat, a feat of coordination that was far beyond her at the moment.

"Yes, I can see that," he retorted dryly. "This is a little different, though. It'll make you feel much better."

An amused smile drifted across her lips as she continued to struggle with his buttons. "I feel just fine…" Then, quite suddenly, her expression became more uncertain, and she looked down into his eyes. "But why did you stop making love to me? I don't… Oh." A cloud settled into her eyes. "I do remember… You said I was too old, that I wasn't good enough."

Snape shook his head. "No. Stopping was your idea, Minerva," he stated firmly.

"It was? I don't think so. You said that I wasn't any fun. You know, I can be fun…" Her voice became rather determined.

"Yes, I know that you can. Please, Minerva…if you would just drink the potion." He gestured towards the dresser and tried to shift her off of his body to no avail.

Instead, she seized his head firmly with both hands and lowered her head. "I'll show you," she whispered softly against his lips before kissing him passionately. With a moan, Snape couldn't help but respond to the intensity of her kiss, pulling her firmly against him and running his hands down over her back. It'd been far too long since he'd held her like this, and his body was more than ready to respond to her advances.

With a smirk, she pulled back and stated smugly, "See…I'm good."

He took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes, you are, but…"

Without letting him finish, she murmured, "I'll show you." Then she sat up on top of him again, settling herself firmly against his groin. Her eyes lit up as she could feel his firm erection hardening even further beneath her. "You see," she stated triumphantly. "You do want me. I can feel it."

As she rubbed against him, Snape moaned once more and grasped her firmly by the arms. He didn't want to hurt her, but this had gone far enough. Much too far for his peace of mind, actually. Though the thought did flit through his mind that perhaps he should simply shag her senseless as she seemed to want, and then he could just pour the potions down her throat and be done with it.

However, the thought of then having to face the sober Minerva and account for his actions firmly removed that idea from his mind, as tempting as it was. Instead, he flipped her off of him onto her back as gently as he could manage. Then he held her down against the floor and stated firmly, "Now I'm going to get up and get the potions, and then you're going to drink them for me. I've had quite enough of this foolishness."

She smiled happily up at the looming man and answered, "Oh, I love it when you pretend to be masterful."

"Who's pretending?" he snarled back.

With as much dignity as he could recapture, Snape got to his feet and readjusted his clothing. Then he crossed the room to the dresser and reclaimed his vials of potion. When he returned to Minerva's side, she'd managed to pull herself up into a sitting position and was leaning back against the end of the bed looking a trifle green.

"Oh…" she moaned softly. "Everything's spinning."

"What a surprise," murmured the Potions master as he knelt next to her and uncorked the first vial. "Can you drink this yourself or will you need my help?"

With unfocused eyes peering at his hand as it swam in front of her, she frowned in concentration and held a shaking hand out for the vial. "Of course, I can drink it. I drank all the whisky, didn't I?"

"Oh, yes, apparently you did." With a shake of his head, Snape held the vial to her lips and helped her to swallow its contents. The effect was almost immediate and quite dramatic. All color leached from her face, and she moaned softly, clutching first at her head and then her stomach.

"Oh, my, god," she moaned again. "Severus… What are you doing here? Why do I feel so horrid?"

He raised an eyebrow and answered softly, "You feel the way anyone would who'd drunk an entire bottle of whisky by themselves…no doubt on an empty stomach."

"Well, my stomach doesn't feel so empty now. In fact…oh, dear…" She raised her hand to cover her mouth and looked pleadingly at him from wide eyes.

Quickly, he uncorked the second vial and held it out to her. "Here, drink this; it will settle your stomach and take care of that headache as well."

Without a word, she grabbed the vial from his hand and downed its contents, then as the horrible feelings of nausea and throbbing pain began to fade, she sat back against the bed and closed her eyes wearily. When she opened them again, she looked appalled.

"Please, tell me that this is all a nightmare. Tell me that I didn't just throw myself at you like some common streetwalker."

"Well, I could "tell" you that if you wish…" he said with a smirk as he settled onto the floor next to her. Then his expression grew serious, and he asked her quietly, "What do you remember?"

Her eyes closed and she covered them with her shaking hands. "Oh, I can't even face you. What you must think…" Reluctantly, she lowered her hands. "I'm sorry, Severus. My behavior has been disgraceful."

He shook his head. "It really doesn't matter. Obviously, something important is troubling you severely to make you drink like this. What's wrong, Minerva? Why did you resign?"

Pain rippled across her face, and she lowered her eyes to her still trembling hands. In the process, she got a good look at her attire and gasped loudly. "Oh, my goodness," she exclaimed in horror. "Why am I wearing this flimsy thing? Where's my robe?"

She scrambled to her feet and looked futilely about her before heading off into the next room. With a frown on his face, Snape got to his feet and followed her. When he reached the doorway, he watched her shrug into the missing garment and belt it securely around her thin waist. Then she clutched the lapels close to her neck and moved over to stare down into the burning fire.

Snape joined her silently. Together, they simply stood there for a long moment. She watched the dancing flames while he watched her struggle with herself.

"I'm not leaving until I get an answer, you know," he stated quietly.

Her troubled face rose up to meet his, and she shook her head. "I can't tell you. I can't. You wouldn't believe me even if I did."

"How can you be so certain? Now you're the one who isn't trusting me."

"It's not a matter of trust. There's nothing that you can do to help me, and I don't want to drag you, or anyone else into my troubles."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of whether or not I can help you? I'm quite serious when I say that I'm not leaving without an answer."

His voice was soft and low, and she closed her eyes and shivered as it washed over her. What she really wanted to do was to turn towards him and bury herself in his arms, to let the warm comfort of his embrace hold her fears at bay, for a little while at least, but she simply didn't dare to try…to take the chance that he might refuse her.

Hesitantly, he raised a hand and laid it on her shoulder. "Tell me the truth, Minerva. What did that bastard do to you to make you run away from us like this?"

When her eyes opened again they were filled with tears. Suddenly, she felt so absolutely bone weary that it just didn't seem worth the effort to fight any longer. "It's not what Ian did, that's the problem, Severus. It's what it appears that I did that's causing me to have to leave."

He frowned in confusion. "And what did you do?"

"Apparently, I committed a murder, and now I'm going to have to be punished for it."

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Next Chapter: Minerva tells Severus the truth.