Nothing in the world of Harry Potter belongs to me. I'm just playing in the great J.K. Rowling's sand box. Thank you.

Just a heads up that things with Severus are rather dark right now.

Chapter 5 - Fighting Addiction

June 1992

"Severus?" Minerva called from the floo. "Boy, where are you?"

When he didn't respond, she stepped through the floo and into his chambers. All around her, empty bottles littered the floor, sat upon tables, and filled the small waste bin. Dirty clothes hung over every chair in the room, except his large winged back chair by the fire and in piles on the floor.

The chair that had been Hermione's in the years she had shared the quarters with her husband was destroyed again. Minerva had repaired that chair more than dozen times since the girl had de-aged, but it seemed that finally Severus had decided to get rid of it for good, as half a charred chair leg was hanging out of the fire and all that remained where the chair once sat was a small pile of fluff. The space now filled with more empty bottles.

It had been three days since the students had left, longer since she had last seen Severus, and even longer still since she had visited his chambers. A quick spell vanished the empty bottles. With her son-in-law nowhere in sight, Minerva turned with determination towards the bedroom.

Kicking aside a clump of black robes, she entered the bedroom. The first thing that she noticed was the smell and she recoiled, holding her hand under her nose, hoping the scent of her lavender lotion would help. Stale alcohol, unwashed human flesh, urine, and the sour stench of vomit filled the room, stubborn enough to not be phased by Minerva's lavender lotion. Inside the darkened room, all she could see was a large black lump upon the bed.

Flicking her wand, the scones in the room flared to life, revealing a disaster zone. A disgruntled groan emerged from under a pile of blankets, but no person in sight. Empty bottles littered the floor and all surfaces in this room as well, ranging from butterbeer to muggle liquor. The dark bedding showed well-developed sweat stains and many discolored areas, where Severus must have thrown up in his drunken stupor. She couldn't help but notice, that the spots that could only be best described as, chunky, were the oldest. Since he hadn't seemed to have slowed down on the alcohol, the old witch assume he hadn't been eating.

Growling in irritation, she marched into the bathroom, the surfaces coated in dust, clearly unused. The toilet at least looked semi-recently used, but the smells in the other room had indicated that it hadn't been as frequently as necessary. Pointing her wands at the tap, the large tub, though it was more of a small pool, had started to fill. Marching back into the bedroom, she cast an evenesco on the linens covering, what she hoped and assumed was the form of Severus Snape.

The naked, urine and vomit covered wizard yelped in surprise, swearing up a storm at the old witch. Without hesitation, McGonagall levitated the man she's known since he was a boy, naked as the day he was born, and currently at his lowest.

"Minerva, you pesky, meddling cat! You put me down this instance," Severus yelled, his voice slightly slurred.

Much to her amusement, it was over the mostly full tub that he finished his statement, so she dropped the spell, and the man.

He sank like a stone, then struggled to the surface, sputtering, swearing, and threatening all sorts of cruel punishments for the witch. Soon, all words ceased as magical brushes scrubbed Severus from head to toe, including his mouth every time he tried to open it.

Sullenly, he suffered through his cleansing, dressed himself in the clothes she provided, the only robes she could scourgify clean without them falling apart, and sat himself in his chair, facing the annoyed witch.

Without consulting him, she had set a horde of house elves loose in his chambers, insisting the burn all his clothes and linens, before ordering more, assuring the little creatures that Madam Malkin would have his measurements on file. The little creatures scurried about the room, vanishing piles of dirty robes, dirty dishes, and the handful of bottles hiding under furniture that Minerva had missed. They siphoned dust off of almost every surface, oblivious to the glaring potion master.

"I haven't seen you since the incident with the stone," Minerva stated plainly, waiting for an explanation.

"I've been busy," he muttered sullenly.

"I can see that," she said, looking pointedly at a pile of empty liquor bottles being swept out from under the couch she sat on.

"Poppy says she hasn't been getting the usual batches of potions to resupply the infirmary. She even had to brew pepper-up herself. You should have heard that woman swear, muttering about how long it had been since she had been forced to brew," Minerva chucked, trying to lighten the mood.

"What do you want, Minerva?" Snape snapped.

"I'm worried about you, son," the old witch stated.

"Well, I'm not your son, so you don't have to worry," Severus replied sullenly. "Didn't you hear Dumbledore? My wife is dead. I'm no longer your problem."

"You are still my son-in-law," Minerva declared. "Dead or alive. Normal or de-aged. That wonderful girl is still my daughter. And she chose you to share her life with, so you will always be my son."

"Bossy witch," he muttered, cradling his head in his hands.

Despite his words, he didn't have the energy to fight her on the matter. His head was pounding worse than ever, since he hadn't even bothered to brew headache potions for himself recently. What he really needed was another drink. The perpetual state of drunkenness he had enjoyed for most of the year was starting to fade. Severus Snape for the first time in his life considered himself a coward, because he didn't dare face a world without his wife while sober.

"What would our Hermione think of you acting like this?" Minerva asked gently.

Without pausing to think, Severus responded, "My little witch would kick my arse, then hex me for good measure."

Minerva chuckled sadly, "And she'd do the same to me for letting you get into this state in the first place."

"I don't know how to do this Minerva," he admitted quietly. "I don't know how to live without her. How do I come home to these quarters we shared every day? How do I fall asleep without my arms around her or wake up and not be crushes that she isn't there? She was my whole life, Minerva."

"I know, son. She changed the lives of everyone she interacted with, but this hurts you and me the most. But she would want us to keep going. She isn't gone for good, Severus. We are going to get our girl back. Come hell or high water," Minerva assured him.

The wizard chuckled lightly at the older witches' determination. With a sigh, he pulled back the sleeve of his robe on his left arm.

"And to top it all off, there is this," he muttered darkly, all humor gone.

On his left arm, the dark mark appeared, outlined in a light grey against his skin. The image seemed to faintly pulse with life.

McGonagall gasped, "But wasn't that completely faded? Just a faint scar after the Potter's were killed?"

"Yes, but his soul survived somehow. The mark went dormant while he was away it seems," Severus explained.

"You mean to say that he is back?" She asked.

"Not really back. Not yet at least. But his spirit is stronger. And he is back in Britain. He was essentially hitchhiking on Quirrell this last year before the Boy Wonder thwarted him," Severus explained with disgust.

"Don't be so hard on the boy, Severus," Minerva pleaded. "He is not his father."

"His father or not, he has placed Hermione in danger," Severus growled, "And will continue to do so if Albus has his way. Danger follows that boy and she follows him. I will never forgive that."

Severus sighed and rose from the chair, opening a cabinet in the kitchen and pulling out a bottle of muggle rum. The pounding in his head was out of control, and he was way too close to sober for him liking. If the meddlesome old witch wasn't going to leave, then he was going to go ahead and drink with her here.

He didn't even bother with a glass or offering her one, as he sat, starting to work the lid off the bottle. Before he could get it open though, Minerva had vanished the whole bottle. Severus snarled in irritation, ready to lay into the witch.

"No," Minerva insisted firmly. "I will not allow this to continue! I will not fail Hermione and let you drink yourself into an early grave. We are going to survive this and it will all just be a bad memory when we have our girl back."

Embarrassment quenched the rage inside him. He knew that Hermione, his witch, the woman he had married, would be ashamed and furious with him.

"Besides, if we are going to protect her from the trouble headed her way, you are going to need to be at your best," the witch announced.

"How?" Severus asked quietly, "I don't know how to stop myself. I don't know how to quit."

"Then we get you help my boy. Though, I warn you, I won't be easy. You remember how hard it was to break your dreamless sleep addiction during the war. However, I'm here to help."

Severus nodded and let her drag him from his chambers. They wove through the castle, ending up at the hospital wing. Poppy had her head in a cabinet, reorganizing when they arrived, but emerged when Minerva gently cleared her throat.

They had a quick conversation with the mediwitch, exposing his weakness, much to Severus' annoyance. The final decision was that he would go to St. Mungo's Addiction Ward for treatment over the summer.

While not thrilled, the young wizard submitted, willing to do anything to get better. Minerva was right, he couldn't take care of Hermione as a drunk. The previous week had proved he couldn't even take care of himself. He needed to ger better, even if it killed him.

Unfortunately, he soon found out that it would do everything but kill him.

The St. Mungo's Addiction Ward was not a place for the faint hearted. Nurses saw it all, they typical anger, sickness, but dealt with spontaneous magic, despite the fact that all patients were stripped of their wands. Withdrawal symptoms were bad in the best circumstances and in muggles. Add in witches and wizards and things escalate quickly. And for one Severus Snape, who had barely been sober at all in the previous 10 months, this wasn't the best circumstances.

The first two days were the worst. Severus had been awake the whole time, unable to sleep, the headache pounding away in his skull, constantly puking his guts up. The worst though had been hallucinations. If Severus had thought that seeing younger Hermione had been torture, then reliving his past with his wife was complete hell.

June 1972

"How'd you do?" Severus Snape asked, sitting down at their table in the library.

Eleven-year-old, Snape was tall and incredibly thin, despite a year of Hogwarts feasts. His hair was long and so dark it always caught an unfortunately like, appearing greasy even when freshly washed. Much to his annoyance, he had a slightly larger nose, which was prominent on his youthful, but thin and rather hollow face. He didn't smile much, courtesy of his father's abuse and neglect, leading to crooked and slightly yellowed teeth.

"Trade," Hermione announced, sliding the parchment, with her exam scores, across the table to him.

Her bushy hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, keeping it out of her face while she read the large tome on the table in front of her. He could see the wayward tendrils of her bushy mane already tangling themselves around the band.

"Your transfiguration scores are amazing," he gawked, passing his paper to her.

"Yeah, but you beat me in astronomy."

"Eh, it was a bit of a hobby of mine pre-Hogwarts," Severus admitted, leaving out the part that the roof had been his safe haven during his father's drunken rants.

"Sweet Merlin," she swore, "your defense score is not human."

He blushed, tipping his head to hide his hair, while his mind shifted to the stack of questionable books in his trunk. While they were not outright banned, some of material within was rather dark. Severus was curious how Hermione would respond to the material.

They had discussed and debated many subjects and topics over the school year, but nothing along those lines. Lily had mostly bailed on him earlier in the year after catching him with Understanding Your Magical Enemy. She never hung out with him one on one anymore, only with Hermione around.

He was worried about losing Hermione too, but shrugged anyway and said, "I'll loan you a book."

"We were about equal in the other subjects," she announced before shouting in triumph. "Ha, I squeaked ahead of you in potions!"

"Slughorn's bias," Severus muttered.

"Bah, if he was biased, it would be toward you, you snake!" Hermione jokes, jostling him playfully.

Severus was grateful that she had gone straight back to her book and hadn't seen the way he flinched slightly in response.

March 1973

"But the Unforgiveables are really more unnecessary than anything else," Hermione argued. "The magical input required for any of the three spells is enormous. Not to mention the negative emotional input. Those energy requirements would be simply draining."

Severus and Hermione were sitting down by the lake, enjoying an early, but most likely short break from the snows. True to his word, Snape had loaned her one of his books over the summer. The wait had been utterly painful, but less than a week after he had gotten home, Hermione's owl (a present from McGonagall on her twelfths birthday) had pecked at his window, and he wasn't carrying a howler.

The response had been promising, which was a relief since he had expected outright scorn. While she had made it clear that she disapproved of dark magic, she had several points of interest and hypothetical questions for him. Before the end of the summer, he'd sent her another book, which was met with much the same response. Despite having to be home, the summer had turned out rather well for him.

"True, but it's not really about the energy requirements isn't it? It's more about the fear component," Snape argued in response.

The continued, back and forth for a while. Each pulling books from their bags to help prove their points. They had quickly exhausted the stash of books Snape had pilfered from his mother's old trunk in the attic within the first few weeks of school.

With no other options left to them, the two had spent most of the year devising a spell to break the magical locks on the Restricted Section without getting caught. Their first attempt had alerted Madam Pince, earning Severus two weeks of detention - which they considered getting off lightly since the librarian has assumed, he was simply trying to sneak in. Their second attempt, which had been a month prior, was a success and they browsed to their hearts content, in the name of educational pursuits of course.

October 1973

Dumbledore had decided, out of the blue, that instead of a Halloween feast, they should have a Halloween Ball. Third years and up had been invited to the ball held in the great hall on Halloween. First and second years would all have a mini-party of their own in their respective common rooms.

Rumors were circulating, probably from the upper class, that third years were only being included because the common rooms weren't big enough. Either way, the younger participants were going to enjoy themselves. The more popular students, like Sirius Black and James Potter had no concerns about asking a girl to the dance.

Tall, gangly Severus Snape was terrified, though mostly of the response than anything else. It had been three weeks since the ball had been announced and only another two until the actual day, so he'd told himself that he had to ask today, or someone else would beat him too it.

Watching her at their typical table in the library, he noticed once again, the wavy brown hair that was new this year. While he appreciated the new look, he thought it was a shame that endless comments about her out of control hair, and the frequent live occupant, all from the Marauders, had driven her to make the change.

Summoning his courage, Severus took his normal seat beside her, turning to face her when she looked up from her book.

"Hey Severus," Hermione greeted him with a smile.

He smiled back, something he found himself doing more and more often for her despite his teeth. Steeling himself before he lost his nerve, he decided to go for it.

"Hey, I was wondering," he started smoothly, and then she smiled at him encouragingly. "Um, if you might be interested ... but you don't really have ..."

He trailed off, his face glowing red with embarrassment.

"Yes, I'd love to go to the Halloween Ball with you Severus," she answered, chuckling lightly at his sudden awkwardness.

She went back to her book. He smiled as well, but then panicked, wondering if she thought he meant just as friends.

"But not just as friends, you know," he added quickly and somewhat quietly.

"I know," was all she said, peering up shyly from her book, a small smile hiding partially behind her curtain of hair.

To say that Severus Snape was floored would be an understatement.

Thirty-two-year-old Severus Snape puked and sobbed and swore and lashed out with bouts of wild magic. His mind seemed determined to remind him of the early days. The times in their lives where things had been easy and joyful between them. The time that she was now reliving without him.

His mind decided the visual torture wasn't enough though. It whispered his worst fears to him.

What if she finds someone else? She fell in love with you during school, why wouldn't she find love again? What if she falls in love with Harry Potter? Or even worse, the red-headed Weasley? You remember how irresistible she was to you when you were that age. Why would she pick you over her new love, even when her memories return?

At the height of the hallucinations, Severus had managed to control a bout of wandless magic, slitting both of his wrists open. The alarms had alerted the nurses, who had rushed in and patches him up despite his screams begging them to let him die. The magic had been so raw, that it had torn the flesh, rather than cutting it, leaving scars after it was healed.

However, the worst eventually passed and Severus rode out the rest of his stay in St Mungo's without further incidents. Eventually the headaches and the vomiting faded, he was able to eat solid foods again, and though he didn't believe that it would, the cravings started to fade.

More often than not, he still would have preferred to face reality drunk, rather than sober. However, the twitch of his hand reaching for the neck of a bottle faded. The dryness of his throat that he knew nothing else would quench disappeared. And he was able to sleep without being blackout drunk. Now he only had to find a way to cope with his life.

Minerva had picked him up from the hospital when it was time for him to leave. They had gone to her summer home. He smiled pleasantly, but the house held so many memories, much like his rooms at Hogwarts. One night over dinner, he asked her.

"How do you do it?"

She knew exactly what he was asking.

"I remember the good. All the love and joyous memories," she says, smiling fondly. "She's not dead Severus, quit acting like she's never coming home."

"And what if she no longer loves me?" He asked, wincing at the vulnerability he was showing. "I know what they call me. The greasy bat of the dungeon."

"Severus Snape," she snapped, startling him. "I've never considered you a fool, but at this moment. That girl is crazy about you. You two were meant for each other."

Severus nodded quietly, still nursing his insecurities, but warmed by the assurance of someone who just might know his wife slightly better than him.

"Now, when we get back to Hogwarts, you're to come have tea with me at least once a week. Hermione used to come have tea with me and I miss it. So, humor an old woman."

Severus agreed, seeing through the ploy for what it was, a way to keep closer tabs on him. Just maybe though, they really did need each other to get through these years.

Before they knew it, it was time to return to Hogwarts.

So, we are going to speed up a bit here and pass the middle years kind of quickly, then jump more into the meat of things!