Dumbles Gets Drunk

Written for Lamia's Daily Speed-writing challenge

Prompt - Dumbledore is drunk at the start of term feast

They thought it was odd when the headmaster stood up and announced that he would like to say a few words, those words being "nitwit, blubber, oddment, and tweak," his somewhat slurred voice carrying across the room as he stood before the group of first years gathered in the Great Hall. Perhaps he was just a bit strange, the students thought, not knowing that their headmaster was drunk off his ass when he made that statement.

"Thank you," he said, before taking a step back and almost falling into his seat next to the other teachers.

Severus sighed and rolled his eyes. Beside him Professor Quirrell was chattering away, completely oblivious to Dumbledore's current state of inebriation, that annoying stutter getting more annoying by the minute. He wasn't getting paid enough to do this. And if it weren't for the fact that he was the only one capable of acting as a spy for the light side, he would have quit his job a long time ago.

"Severus, my boy," said Dumbledore, a simpering smile on his face as he held up a half empty goblet of wine. "Are you enjoying yourself on this fine evening?"

"Yes, of course I am," Snape replied sarcastically, a frown on his face as he watched the old man grinning like a fool. He was trying very hard to ignore the constant stuttering going on in his ear as Quirrell continued to ramble on about Merlin knows what.

"S-S-Severus, wh-what exactly di-did you say his name was again?" Quirrell asked, motioning with a nod towards the drunk man who was now staring at his left hand as though it were the most fascinating object in all of human history.

Good god, were they both drunk? Or was Quirrell such an idiot that he couldn't remember the name of one of the most famous wizards in history?

"I am Professor Dumbledorf," said Albus, abandoning his fascination for his hand as he leaned sideways and almost slid right out of his seat. A portion of wine sloshed onto the table, staining the white table cloth a deep shade of rich violet. "Emphasis of the 'f'. It's Dumble-dorf," he repeated once again. "The f stands for fart, because I'm an old fart and I fear that no one understands me due to my advanced age." He then belched loudly and buried his nose in his goblet of wine.

Snape groaned and buried his face in his hands, his greasy hair spilling forward to frame the sides of his face.

"I told you this would happen," came Trelawney's voice from further down the table. "I warned you what would happen when Saturn came in close contact with Jupiter during the alignment of Sirius and Neptune."

"Sh-sh-she's a lo-lovely young lady, isn't she, Sev-Severus?" chirrped Quirrell, pointing with his fork at the so-called seer seated on the other end of the table. He was smiling at her in a way that suggested he'd become rather fond of her in the short time he'd known her.

'How lovely,' Severus thought, his lip curling in disgust as Quirrell attempted to make conversation with Trelawney. 'They can get married, and instead of wedding rings they'll have matching turbans.' He thought for a moment what it would look like if Trelawney attempted to cram that mass of frizzy hair into one of Quirrell's turbans.

Beside him, Dumbledore was now laughing like an idiot, spilling the remainder of his drink down McGonagall's dress. When he tried to draw his wand to clean up the mess he'd made, he slid out of his chair and onto the floor with a loud thump.

"Class dismissed!" he called out to the room, while Hagrid and Professor Sprout got him by the arm and tried helping him onto his feet.

"Oh dear," said Quirrell, peering down at the drunk old man. "Is h-he going t-to be alright?"

Severus wished very much that he could crawl under the table and hide. It was going to be a very long night, and from the looks of things it was only going to get worse as the evening progressed.