Downside of Aging Potions - Chapter Nineteen

"And I forget just why I taste
Oh yeah, I guess it makes me smile
I found it hard, it was hard to find
Oh well, whatever, never mind."
-Nirvana, Smells Like Teen Spirit

"What... I mean..." Hermione struggled for words as well as her breath.

She noticed blood beginning to run down his hand and dropping rhythmically onto the floor.

Drop.drop.drip...

Instantly, she stood up to help him. She got all the way to his hand when he stopped her.

"No!" He shouted, then winced and lowered his voice, "no, just go."

She did.

Hermione had trouble sleeping that night. Correction; she didn't sleep at all that night.

At three twenty-two, she tossed in bed and opened her eyes.

All night, she had been replaying what had happened in Snape's office, thinking about what he was thinking. Just wondering...

She got up and went into her trunk, thankful she had the Head Girl's room so she didn't have to be quiet.

Wrapping a shawl over her bare shoulders first, she then took out a book, a journal, actually.

The summer before her sixth year, she went to Portugal to spend the summer with her cousin. Her wild, out-going, party-till-five AM cousin. Her half English, half Portuguese, flaming gay, punk rock cousin. He was also a drinker.

A very odd guy.

Point was, they made a journal throughout the whole summer, writing down what they saw, all the hot boys, and one page she was looking for specifically. He had written her tons of things about alcohol.

She flipped page after page, scanning everyone quickly. She stopped about ten pages after the middle.

"Hermione's Guide to Drunken Nights".

Grinning, she searched through the list, passing where it was okay to throw up, how to realize what was going on when drunk, and how to act sober when around adults.

Then, finally!

Ramiro had written some studies about how people interact when they are drunk with other drunk and even sober people. But what Hermione was looking for:

'Some scientist people say that when you are under the influence of alcohol, and some other drugs, a sort of truth barrier comes down at let's the truth out. So the intoxicated person is more likely to act on how they feel and say what they feel. (SEE, I so know Montego wanted to bang me!)

Hermione laughed. So, "some scientists" say that. But then...

'Then the other scientists say that intoxication only makes you stupid and you do stupid things for know reason. Bullshit in my opinion.'

Well, Hermione didn't know much about drinking, but she wanted desperately to believe that the truth came out on alcohol.

She decided. She was going to see Snape.

When she arrived, she wasn't sure if she was shocked or disappointed more when she found him looking into the fire unfocusedly, a scotch bottle in hand.

"Severus!" She said, exasperated.

He looked up, and squinted, trying to make out who was there.

"Hermione?" He propped his head on his palm, and gazed at her. The blood from where he'd punched the wall was dried, leaving a nasty cut.

She could not believe he was drunk again. She walked over and ripped the bottle from his hand, dropping it into a bin.

"Hey!" He reached for it, but she pushed him back into the couch.

"You need to stop drinking like this." She said firmly, pushing him back into the couch and took out her wand to heal the cut.

He held his head from a rush he'd received with his opposite hand and looked up at her, "You can't treat me like this... fifty points from Gryffindor."

"Please." Hermione bit out, wiping the remaining blood on his robes.

"I'm still your teacher Miss Granger." He slurred.

She laughed coldly and muttered, "You've been everything but."

"What?"

"I asked you what you were thinking, are thinking." She tried, sitting next to him, closer than necessary.

"You... have no right to wander the corridors... middle of the night..."

He was more drunk than he was last time she found him with scotch. She sighed and started walking away, "Fine then. We'll separate. Just like you wanted. Drink all the scotch you want." She tossed him the bottle.

"No! Hermione... don't leave..." He rasped.

Hermione turned around coolly, and asked (just as coolly,) "What?"

"Please don't..." He begged helplessly, making Hermione slightly uncomfortable. It made her cringe to hear him use that voice, taking on that uncharacteristic whine.

"What?" She asked more softly.

He shook his head even as they rested in his hands, "I can't..."

"Can't what?"

"Will you stay with me?" He asked too quietly, not looking up, "I don't want to be alone anymore, Hermione..."

Hermione tensed.

No. Nonononono. Not again.

Not like this.

"Severus, I... I can't-" But even as she finished he was standing right in front of her, head bent slightly so she could smell the scotch on his breath, the smell of his clothes.

His hand curled around her neck softly and he murmured, "You're so..."

Her eyes were heavy with the closeness of his body, and as he bent his head to her lips, she didn't- couldn't- stop him.