A/N: Written for QLFC Season 10 Round 1 | Appleby Arrows | Beater 2 | Main prompt: Yawning – Write about someone being possessed | Optional Prompts: 8. [dialogue] "What's the deal with you always wanting to ruin your own life?", 14. [action] coughing, 15. [word] slur | WC: 1000

TW: Murder, character death, swearing, alcohol, panic, abuse

Severus gave his report to the Order as usual, standing awkwardly from his seat at the long table and speaking steadily, monotonously toward the piercing eyes of the other members. He couldn't bring himself to meet any of their gazes. He knew what most of them would hold. A cursory glance around the room upon entry had told him that all of them were present save one: Black, the lazy mutt who couldn't be arsed to make it to a meeting in his own home. All for the better in Severus's mind; a day without encountering the man was much improved. His low voice did not betray the tension radiating throughout every fiber of his being even without Black's presence. A constant on-edge feeling had sunk deep into his bones since the Dark Lord's return — he would be wired on high alert for the foreseeable future. He'd always been a bit jumpy, prickly, he certainly knew that. But the pressure of spying was really taking its toll, and the Dark Lord seemed to have lost some of his previous tethers of relative sanity. The pacing of his speech increased by a few beats as he neared the end of the report. There wasn't much to it tonight. The Dark Lord was still breathing, the Death Eaters were still following, people were still dying, and the world was still spinning. It was just another Tuesday.

"That's everything," Severus said, finally moving his eyes over from the wall to meet Dumbledore's gaze. His duty to the order was done and he had to get out. Now.

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said quietly.

Severus ignored the empty remark of gratitude. "If I may, Albus, I really must be going now. I…have some business to attend to."

"Too important to stay for the full meeting, Snape?" Alastor Moody asked, his magical eye rotating to skewer Severus with its electric intensity.

Severus bit back a caustic retort as Dumbledore spoke for him. "I'm sure Severus has his own good reasons, Alastor." His eyes flicked to Severus in a manner that suggested he would be inquiring as to what those reasons were at a later date, privately.

Severus inclined his head in acknowledgement. He could play the damn game with the best of them. "Thank you, Headmaster." He took a step back and shoved his worn wooden chair back under its matching table before leaving, his cloak billowing behind him as he strode out of the room. He headed first for the exit, reaching the front door before pausing. He wasn't in a fit state to apparate. He took a sharp detour for the stairs, heading for the basement kitchen. A glass of water before he left, perhaps. A cold glass of water. Maybe he'd better pour it on his head. Silence the thoughts that roamed with reckless abandon. He just needed water. Then he could leave.

He descended the rickety old staircase and shoved open the door, coughing as century-old dust sprung up into his face. He walked through the frame and turned the corner into the kitchen with his eyes fixed on the sink and nothing else. As he reached out with a shaking hand and grabbed a glass from the nearest cabinet, he suddenly heard a low, growling voice from behind him.

"Whaddaya think you're doing, Sniv'lus?" the voice slurred.

He whipped around, the glass slipping from his fingers and cracking into pieces at his feet in his haste to find the source of the voice. His heart rose to dangerous levels as he took in the sight before him. Sirius Black was leaning heavily against the counter with a bottle of firewhisky in hand. Looking more closely, he could see a couple empty bottles scattered around. Sirius stared at Severus for a moment, his eyes glazed over and unfocused, the pupils dilated. His hair was in disarray, and he looked quite mad. Severus knew this image well. It was one he'd become accustomed to early on in his life, one he hadn't seen since he was 15, and one he hadn't expected to see again, God willing. He could smell the thick scent of whiskey on Sirius's breath as he approached and he immediately tensed, instinctively bracing himself for what was to come. His wand lay forgotten in his sleeve as the taller man got closer and closer.

Sirius dropped the bottle of firewhiskey onto the floor where the amber mingled with the clear glass already scattered around. Severus backed up until the counter was digging painfully into his back and slid along it, instinctively heading for the wall near the entryway, his mind blanker with panic than even the best occlumens could accomplish.

Sirius suddenly lunged at him, pinning him against the wall with surprising strength and any semblance of rationality was gone from Severus's head. He stood frozen in fear, his eyes wide, his breath coming in rapid pants. He could feel his heartbeat in his throat as he struggled to catch his breath against the calloused hands on his neck and shoulder. The man was so large and he was so small and the alcohol permeated his nostrils in the old two-up, two-down Cokeworth dwelling.

"What's the deal with you always wanting to ruin your own life?" Tobias Snape snarled in his ear. "You worthless little shit, you and your freak mother —"

Severus felt his own hands coming up, controlled by some outside force, as he fought against the restraining hold of the other man. He was still speaking but Severus couldn't hear anything except his own blood rushing through his ears as he fought the weight against him. His hands lashed out and his nails clawed at skin. He couldn't tell what sounds escaped his mouth as he kicked and clawed until he was free and the weight was gone and the calloused hands stopped moving and the crazed eyes were out of his line of sight.

When his body finally stilled Severus found himself staring down in shock, panic, and pure, unadulterated horror at the man lying unmoving on the ground. And at the blood on his hands.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god." The words escaped him in an endless, uncontrollable stream. "Oh god, oh god, oh god…"

Fin.

A/N: Well, this certainly went down a much darker route than I had originally planned.