Short chapter, sorry.

Chpt. 21- Deny

"Tristan!" Lyric shouted at her former friend. Tristan was standing, leaning against the doorway, carrying a half-empty glass of green liquid, shaking his head accusatorily.

"Mr. Merton, you are outside of your house past curfew," Snape snapped at him.

"True Professor. But I'm not the one molesting one of my students," Tristan said, taking a labored step into the room. He threw his glass against the opposite wall, it shattered and fell quickly. "I'm not a sick bastard like you," he slurred.

"Tristan, are you drunk?" Lyric asked, taking a step towards him.

"The question, my d-dear," Tristan stumbled over his feet and his words, "is, am I drunk? No, I mean, are you drunk? You're kissing that greasy-haired, Death-Eating Scum excuse of a witch. Or wizard. I forget which." Tristan's eyes darted around in his head as his eyelids fought to stay open. Tristan, having a brief moment of clarity, stood upright for a moment before falling onto the cold stone floor.

"Tristan!" Lyric knelt down to him. "Are you okay?"

"I love you!" he shouted into the ground. "And I miss you, and also… I love you," he began to sob. "Why did you kiss him? You're supposed to kiss me." Lyric pulled him up so he was sitting upright.

"Tristan, I-" Lyric started to say.

"Enough, Mr. Merton!" Snape commanded.

"Shut it, old man," Tristan tried to get off the ground, but failed to get his feet under him, "if I ever get off this floor, I'm gonna kick…your bat-like arse."

"Tristan, stop it. We need to get you to bed."

"To bed? He ought to be expelled for being drunk on school grounds. Off of homemade Absinthe, no less." Snape countered, circling Tristan as he fought to get off the ground.

"Professor Snape, I sincerely doubt you'd like Tristan to speak to the Headmaster right now." Lyric shot at Snape as she helped Tristan get to his feet. At this point, Tristan was too drunk to really do much of anything.

"Miss Dumbledore, that decision is up to me," Snape countered.

"Oh, and you're willing to risk your termination and exile just so he'll get a few detentions with McGonagall?" Lyric yelled back.

"Exile, Miss Dumbledore? That's a bit dramatic, don't you think?"

"Professor, but I am taking him back to his room to sleep it off," Lyric grunted pulling Tristan off the ground, as he had now gone to sleep. "Tomorrow's hangover will be punishment enough for him. If you really want to stop me, you'll have to call out McGonagall or my uncle. I doubt you'd want either one of them to hear what Tristan has to say. The choice is yours." Lyric drew her wand from her pocket, "Mobilus corpus!" she shouted at Tristan as he instantly began floating.

"Lyric?" Snape seemed to have snapped out of professor mode again.

"Professor Snape," Lyric answered curtly, holding back tears.

"How do you know he won't say anything to McGonagall in the morning?"

"Sir, after a night of drinking, Tristan can barely remember his own name. So I sincerely doubt this will be in the foreground of his memory."

"And if he does?"

"We'll do what you do best, Professor. Deny, deny, deny." Lyric wouldn't let Snape counter a response as she pulled Tristan out of the room.

Back in the Gryffindor common room, Lyric surveyed the remains of the party. It wasn't very late, but the Absinthe had been strong. Students lay sleeping on the couches, chairs, floor, and even a few on the coffee table. She shook her head as she took Tristan to his room and laid him on his bed.

Lyric surveyed her friend as he lay sleeping. She had been bluffing that he would not remember the incident, but she had been desperate to get out of Snape's office.

'He kissed you,' she thought to herself. 'And you kissed him back.' Lyric wasn't trying to fool herself, she had enjoyed the kiss thoroughly. But she found herself hating Snape again. He made her feel guilty for it. Something so beautiful and so good, was now sullied by him.

Perhaps Tristan had been justified in what he had done. Lyric was also haunted by what he had said in Snape's office. 'You're supposed to kiss me.'

Lyric crawled into bed beside Tristan wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her head on his shoulders. Still asleep, he put his arms around her and snuggled her close.

As she lay listening to his heavy breathing, Lyric felt herself suddenly sleepy. Closing her eyes, she succumbed to her fatigue.

At that exact moment, Severus Snape had flung himself on the couch in his private quarters in front of a roaring fire. He sat swilling a large glass of Firewhiskey, silently praying that the Merton boy would not say a thing.