A/N: I don't own Harry Potter or any related characters
This is for the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Word Count: 452
Warning: alcoholism
Midnight and she was sneaking out. He was already hitting the bottle when she slipped into his chamber. She didn't speak as he passed her the bottle. It was mostly empty. She'd been running late tonight, had almost gotten caught by a prefect. Idiots. They'd never realize the rules didn't apply to her, not anymore. The ministry had managed to take care of that, maybe the only thing they'd ever gotten right. Of course, she was also an eighth year student, one who had returned after the war to get the education she deserved. She wasn't sure the prefects even had power over her at this point.
She finished the bottle and waited as he grabbed the next one, taking that one as well. There were a few more on the floor. She vanished them nonverbally, her wand in her pocket. He'd figure he'd already drank them, or that he'd miscounted. It didn't matter what he thought, all that mattered was making this one disappear as well.
She brought her lips to the brim the alcohol burning her lips, pretending to drink. If she vanished it slow enough, he'd believe she was drinking it. She never actually drank much when she did this, a few sips, yes, but she knew to keep her senses. She needed them to be here for him, to help him. She hadn't realized what she was getting into when the ministry had married her and Severus in some farce of a law. But now they were husband and wife. His problems were hers and vice versa.
She knew this was a temporary fix. She knew he needed help, but he'd never admit it. He wasn't ready to admit it. When he did though, she would be here for him. The law might have forced their hands, forced them together, but she'd come to love him, come to care for him in a way that she couldn't describe. She watched as he picked up the empty bottle, gave it an annoyed look before throwing it against the wall. It shattered, but Hermione was quick with a shielding charm. The glass bounced off harmlessly. She turned to the man sitting next to her. His face was gaunt and his eyes were red. He'd been crying. Maybe this was a good sign, maybe it meant he was finally ready to confront the demons that haunted him.
"He made me do it, he made me kill him," he sobbed. "I deserved to die!" he wailed. She nodded, wrapping her arms around him and holding him, letting him cry the tears he would deny come morning light when he pretended to be the same emotionless, heartless dungeon bat everyone loved to hate.