Chapter 3
Severus could no longer be certain that his brain and his body were both in the same place. He was floating further and further away from all rational thought and the only thing which crossed his temporarily damaged mind was alcohol.
And Harry.
After three weeks he'd finally given in and allowed Harry to buy him a drink (or several). What he'd failed to notice was that, after a few hours, it had been him who had started to buy the drinks, an occurrence which he could not blame on Harry's persistence.
He decided hastily that the only reason Harry was so attractive was because he was seeing him through a haze of drunkenness.
Severus was not at all taken by surprise when Harry leaned across the table and kissed him, but nor did he try to avoid it.
"I would never sleep with you." Harry laughed and Severus was angered to notice that he was slightly more sober than himself.
"I never asked you to."
"Good. Because it's not going to happen." Harry smiled into his nearly empty glass.
"Okay, Professor."
'' '' ''
Severus woke with the world's worst hangover and buried his face into the pillow to shut out the sun streaming through his window. He thought of strong black coffee but couldn't make his body obey the wish to make some. It took him a few moments to realise that he wasn't clothed. He insisted that it didn't mean anything, that he was probably just too drunk to find any pyjamas, but that didn't stop the fractured memories, nor the sound of the shower. He turned his head slightly and saw a pair of dark rimmed glasses on the nightstand.
From the bathroom Harry sang chirpily but terribly out of tune.
The world's worst hangover indeed.