Title: White Flag
Chapter Title: Drunk
Disclaimer: Everything you recognized belongs to the brilliant J.K. Rowling
Summery: She won't wave a white flag in his face. She won't surrender to how she should logically feel. She's in love and always will be in love with him. HGSS
Rated: M for some choice words and situations
Author's Note: Thank you for the fabulous reviews. Some of you had questions but they will all be answered in good time, my dears. All in good time. I'm hoping the next chapter will be finished by Thursday night and posted on Friday but there's no way to know for sure. As always, enjoy! And reviews are always appreciated. Happy Valentine's Day!
The Firewhiskey burns as it runs down his esophagus and he closes his eyes in response to the sensation. How many has that been? One? Two? Three? Four? Ten?
He takes another sip of the fiery substance before dropping it on the table besides him. Violet Eileen Snape. Violet. How could he have ever agreed to such a horrible name? Eileen Catherine Snape would have been so much better. Then it dons on him. All that time he stood there and not once did he look at his only child. Disgusted with himself, he takes another drink of the vial tonic.
His whole body aches and throbs. He had told Abigail to expect him tonight but he is in no mood to fulfill his manly urges, having seen Hermione and all. When his with Abigail he can show all thoughts of her to the back of his head and enjoy himself but after seeing her tonight in that position with their baby clutched to her breasts, he's not so sure. Still, he can't believe he missed his own daughter's birth.
It wasn't a ploy. He should have known better. Hermione would never stoop so low as to tell him she was in labor just to get him to come 'home'. It wasn't her kind of thing. Honesty was her only policy. But it isn't his. That's for damn sure. Double-dealing? Lying? Cheating? Two-facing? All in a day's work. With one last swig he finishes off his last bottle of Firewhiskey and drops it into the trash can besides him.
He's been sitting here for over three hours, drinking away every minute of it. The chimes start and the clock strikes twelve. He missed dinner, patrols, and detentions. Although scaring Mr. Kingsley is quite fun, for Mr. Kingsley is quite possibly the next Mr. Longbottom, he called off the detention without informing the detente. His stomach rumbles of hunger and disdain for liquor but he ignores its desperate plea for nourishment. He can almost hear Hermione. "Don't you realize what you are doing to your liver?" Don't you realize that I don't love you?
No. That's wrong. Don't you realize that I disdain you? He will probably always love her. Just like he loves his mother and his first love, Lily Evens. Potter's wife.
He shakes the image from his head and rises from his leather chair. His head spins and he staggers over to his bed. He collapses onto the bed and a drunken sleep over comes him. This is the only way he can actually live with himself at night. Drunk.
A piece of paper hits the small of his back, waking him from his drunken and restless sleep. He grabs the paper and opens the envelope to see what it is about. It's probably Dumbledore telling him, he's fired. He squints as the reads the cursive print,
Professor and Mrs. Severus Snape are proud to announce the birth of their daughter,
Violet Eileen Snape
Thursday, April 6th at 9:56 p.m.
Seven pounds, Eight ounces
Hermione wasted no time in letting the world know of their child's birth. Disgusted, he picks the paper up and holds it over the trash can. His fingers are a bout to let go when the picture besides the announcement moves and for the first time, he can see his daughter's face. He pulls it back to him and gazes at the small child. She has his eyes and his hair but she has Hermione's delicate features. Just the way he wanted it.
The boys will be knocking at his door in no time. No, they won't. His poor daughter is stuck with him as a father. She has his eyes, his hair, and his last name. Deep down he knows that doesn't constitute as a father. What was it Hermione once told him when he spoke of his own father? Any male can be a father but it takes a man to be a dad.
The door knob to his bed chamber jiggles and he grabs his wand just in case. The door swings open and there stands Minerva.
"Glad to see you're awake, Severus. Your students missed you in class today. Was the Firewhiskey to your liking?" He groans inwardly at the thought of missing classes and Minerva knowing way.
"Can I help you Professor McGonagall?" He spits out as he turns around on top of his bed. His clothes from the previous day are winkled and reek of stale liquor.
"I just wanted to tell you congratulations on Violet's arrival. Will you be taking time off?" She asks him smugly. She knows that he and Hermione are, well, apart at the moment.
"No. Now if you will excuse me. I need to get dressed in fresh clothes."
"Very well. You can thank Hagrid for covering your classes after you are clothed."
"You let that dimwit cover my classes?" He roars but she dismisses his comment completely and shuts the door. He drops his wand on the bedside table as he gets off of his bed. The covers are in complete disarray like his clothes and he heads towards his bathroom to try and get the stench of alcohol off of him. Wouldn't want the precious students to know that their potions professor could technically be classified as an alcoholic. Dumbledore would not be too please with him.
The refreshing water cascades over him as he contemplates his role in Violet's life. When she starts her schooling at Hogwarts he will be her potions professor but in the meantime? But for now she is in the competent hands of a Mrs. Hermione Granger Snape. There is no need for him right now. What could he even do?