Severus was surprised to find a letter on the kitchen table when he reappeared at Spinner's End. He did not live here while school was in session, after all. He blanched when he saw where it was from. Something dire must have happened at the hospital for them to send duplicate letters to wherever he might be found. He was sure an identical one would be waiting for him at Hogwarts as well, and that they had already failed to reach him by floo. All the Hogwarts staff knew he was out for the evening, but not where.

Dear Messr. Severus Snape,

There has been a development in Eileen Snape's case. Healer Valerian requests your presence at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries at your earliest convenience in order to discuss. Healer Valerian will be available at all hours day and night until we hear from you...

Severus did not read the rest of the letter but rather dropped it back on the table and disapparated straight to the hospital lobby. He strode up to the witch at the desk and said, "Severus Snape. I received a message to meet with Healer Valerian as soon as possible."

She raised her eyebrows skeptically. "You're Professor Snape?" It was only then that Severus realized he was still wearing muggle clothing. And that the witch probably had a younger relative currently attending Hogwarts.

He leaned forwards and gave her his best, most menacing glare. "Yes. I was led to believe the matter was urgent."

Her cool professionalism shattered. "Right. Of course, Professor. Er... let's see... Top floor. Conference room C. I'll have the healer meet you there."

Severus nodded and spun on his heal. He transfigured his muggle jacket and trousers back into robes whilst in the elevator. He placed a cool hand at the side of his neck where the jacket collar had been. Maybe eventually he would invest in some genuine muggle clothing, not just the transfigured stuff, which tended to itch for some reason. Transfigurations had always been amongst his least favorite subjects, through no fault of Minerva's, of course.

He waited only a few minutes for Healer Valerian, and several others who he had not previously met, to join him in the conference room. "What has happened?" Severus asked without preamble.

"What we rather feared," Healer Valerian answered. "She got very agitated a little after we administered the most recent dose of the Essence of Euphoria that we had started this week. She suffered an uncontrolled outburst of accidental magic. Two other patients and three staff members were injured, and she has been moved to a private, high-security room." Severus listened numbly as the healers explained in more detail that the magical outburst was truly unformed, bearing no resemblance to any identifiable, intentional enchantment or to any of the known side effects of the Essence of Euphoria. This was less akin to usual accidental magic and more to what was recorded regarding Obscurials. They offered to show him exactly what had happened with a Pensieve, but Severus decided he did not really want to see it. In terms of treatment plans, they had administered the antidote to the Essence of Euphoria already and would not try that particular mood potion again. Representatives from the Department of Mysteries had already been notified. The healers were also considering contacting the retired magizoologist Newt Scamander or possibly Albus Dumbledore, as each was known to have interacted directly with the last documented Obscurial, back at the onset of Grindelwald's War. "We prefer not to contact Dumbledore without your permission, though, since he is your employer," Healer Valerian concluded.

Severus smiled mirthlessly. "That is the least of my concerns."

Valerian nodded. "We'll wait for the Department of Mysteries assessment first, and go from there."

Severus agreed. "May I see her?"

All the healers winced. "Well, you can, but be careful and use a Protego maxima."

The healers' concern for his safety proved unwarranted. When Severus entered his mother's new, highly warded room at the very end of the long-term care ward, she stood up immediately, grabbed his hands and squeezed them, tears running down her face, but showed no signs of aggression this time. "I have to go home, honey. Please let me go home!"

"It's not safe for you to be at home, Mother," he said softly.

"It is! I was making it work! It's just too stressful here! But I can stop it again. I know it."

Severus shook his head. "What happened today was always going to happen eventually, no matter where you were, and regardless of the potion you took today. It is better that you are here, where people can help you and keep you safe." And contain the damage. Who knew how many of her muggle neighbors might be injured or dead if she had been at Spinner's End? He smiled tightly. "We have to make you better again, and then go home."

She cried some more and leaned against his chest. He held her silently. He couldn't say what he was thinking, that she probably wasn't going to get better. The weight of history was against her.

On Saturday morning, Severus nursed a bottle of firewhiskey from Madam Rosmerta's recently reopened tavern in Hogsmeade. He had visited the establishment for the first time around midnight upon his return from the hospital. The brew was excellent.

He was thoroughly drunk by the time Minerva McGonagall barged into his quarters that afternoon. She may have knocked, but that did not register through his inebriation. He had to close one eye to squint up at her because of the double vision, but he managed to focus in time to see her initially angry expression shift to one of concern. "Severus, are you unwell? You weren't at dinner, breakfast, the morning staff meeting, or lunch." He gestured vaguely towards the firewhiskey. She raised her eyebrows. "You're drinking? That's not like you! What's wrong?"

Severus shrugged. "Shientific pogress, Minerva. I met the firs' ever adull Obshcur-iral yezzerday."

Minerva's mouth fell open, and she caught herself on the arm of his chair in surprise. "What?"

"M' mother," he mumbled. He was beyond caring who knew about his troubled family life at the moment. His eyes drifted closed, but Minerva shook him forcefully awake again.

"Severus, focus. Are you hurt?"

"Nooo..."

"You said you met an Obscurial?" He nodded. "Where?"

"S' Mungo."

"...Ah. Who?"

"M' mother," he repeated. Wasn't she listening?

Minerva sighed. "Ugh, splinched ears, why couldn't we have this conversation before you got sloshed? Expecto Patronum!" Severus watched Minerva's bright silver cat appear and then gambol away. "Albus, we might have a situation, could you meet me down in Severus' quarters?" she said a little later once the patronus found its target. In the meantime, Minerva thoughtfully conjured him a large glass of water and stood over him as he reluctantly drank it.

The headmaster joined them a few minutes later and frowned at him.

"He's drunk," Minerva supplied before Albus could ask. "As to why, he says he met an Obscurial at St. Mungo's. Yesterday!"

Even Albus looked shocked at that. He shook his head slowly. "That's impossible. I've long had contacts in the Department of Underage Magic to get advanced warning on those kinds of cases, and even formal agreements ever since I became Headmaster and had the position to intervene."

Severus snickered. "Underage..."

"Severus, who did you see at St. Mungo's?" Albus asked kindly.

"M' mother."

"Your mother is in the hospital?" Severus nodded. "Since when?"

"Shummer."

"Summer? Merlin's beard! What happened?" Minerva asked. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"She's dying. She shtopped uzhing magic, an' now... she's dying."

Albus lunged forwards and dragged Severus' chin up to meet his gaze. His long grey beard fell against Severus' chest, like a fluffy blanket. Or a pillow? A cloud? Anyway, Severus could tell Albus was trying to use legilimency, and he did not bother to resist with anything beyond his usual subconscious defenses. He just recalled the meeting with Valerian so the old schoolteacher could find what he was looking for. It was easier. Albus blinked, and it looked like he might start crying behind his half-moon spectacles. "Severus... I'm so sorry. Is it alright with you if I visit her and speak to the healers myself?" Severus nodded again vaguely. Albus straightened up. "Minerva, there is no child at risk, fortunately. Would you stay with him until he's sobered up somewhat? I need to go to St. Mungo's. Feel free to cancel his Monday classes if you think it necessary."

Severus closed his eyes again. "Squeaky?" Minerva said. Crack. The sound of the house-elf apparating into his room jarred him back to wakefulness. He noted Albus had gone. "Could you bring Severus a salty broth, please? And while I'm thinking of it, make sure there's some comfort food options nearby when he deigns join us all in the Great Hall again."

She corked the firewhiskey and moved it to the shelf over the desk, then dragged his desk chair over and sat down. She sighed. "Honestly, Severus, you're supposed to let me know about things that might affect your ability to work."

"I can work," he objected loudly.

"Really. You weren't drinking earlier in the week, were you?"

Severus glared at her, highly offended. "Nooo..."

"So your students really earned all twenty of those detentions, did they?"

"Yes."

"Including the one for Ms. Portchester?"

Severus struggled for a moment, trying to remember who that even was. He finally recalled her, a Gryffindor third year. He didn't remember giving her detention, though.

"...Yesh?"

"For having a set of gobstones on her desk?"

Severus hunched into himself. Annoyingly, he felt tears forming at the mere mention of the word gobstones. He lifted a hand over his eyes to disguise them; hopefully Minerva would just think he had a headache. "Dishtraction," he muttered. "Dangerous in potions."

"Ms. Portchester tells me she had only taken them out temporarily while searching in her bag for a fresh quill." Severus shrugged. He had no idea if the student was lying, and Minerva was right, she probably did not deserve detention for such a minor slight, in the normal course of events. The deputy headmistress sighed again. "You're our youngest staff member, Severus, and I know this is your first real job as well, so I won't press you further about it right now. Particularly since you'll probably be forgetting this entire conversation. But in future, I need you to let me know if you are unwell or you have other extenuating circumstances. You are allowed to request time off periodically, remember." He flinched when she patted his hand. He flinched again when the house elf returned with another resounding crack. "Alright, eat some soup, Severus. I'll let you sleep after that. No more firewhiskey. I'll check in on you again tomorrow, and if you're still hungover when I do, I will cancel your Monday classes to make room for meetings with both myself and Albus. I assume you'll need the extra time to grade papers anyhow after wasting all of today."

Severus growled softly in her general direction, even though she was probably correct. He slowly stood up, feeling extremely light-headed and wobbly as he did. He grudgingly accepted Minerva's assistance to get to the desk, where Squeaky was arranging a bowl of soup as well as some toasted bread and a steaming and quite fragrant herbal tea.

On Sunday, Severus did hear Minerva knocking on his door, it just took him a few beats to distinguish the sound from the intense throbbing in his head. The one thing he had definitely established yesterday and today was that drinking away one's problems made them worse rather than better. Headaches made everything worse. Vomiting made everything much worse. Hives caused by the anti-emetic potion reacting with his still elevated blood alcohol level also compounded the misery, but at least the potion did stop the nausea. He just wished he had remembered that unfortunate side effect and picked a different option. In short, he was definitely still very hungover when Minerva let herself in.

She stared at him. "Are you actually ill today, Severus?" He shook his head, which was a big mistake. "You have a rash," she pressed.

"I noticed," he hissed. "It's from the Schatzki Vagal Tonic. It causes mast cell duplication and activation in the presence of sufficient levels of ethyl-aldehyde. Or formaldehyde. Really any of the small-molecule aldehydes... doesn't matter. I already did the blood measurements and can tell you I'm far enough on the tale end of this curve, I won't be dying of anaphylaxis, at least not today."

Minerva chuckled. "I made that mistake once, also with firewhiskey. But I suppose if you're capable of telling me exactly what went wrong and that this will definitely be the worst of it, then I won't worry. Just don't-"

"-Mix any anti-itch potions with it. I know. I have to suffer. I am a potions master, remember."

"Your potions expertise didn't stop you from taking Schatzki Vagal Tonic for your hangover."

He forced a grin. "No, but that's because I was still tipsy then, not even fully hungover. Merlin, yesterday was a mistake."

"Well, now you know." She dragged his desk chair across the wooden floor again, and Severus winced at the loud squeak. She sat down and folded her arms. "I'll cancel your classes tomorrow, double up some of the ones later in the week. Now, do you want to talk about it?"

"About what?"

"About why you drank yourself into a stupor yesterday. About your mother."

Severus frowned. "I don't remember telling you about her."

"Somehow, I'm not surprised."

"What did I say?"

Minerva looked down. "You said she'd been in the hospital since summer." Severus slowly nodded. Minerva looked up at him with sorrowful eyes. "You said she stopped using magic and was dying. You said she was somehow becoming an Obscurial." He squeezed his eyes shut, whether against his throbbing headache or the pain of Minerva's words, he wasn't sure. "Do you want to talk about it?" she repeated.

"I... what is there to say, Minerva?"

She shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, I don't know. It is a terrible situation all 'round, and not one I have specifically heard of before. But Severus, I am here for you. Both as your supervisor... and as your friend. If you need time off to take care of things at St. Mungo's, or just for yourself, come to me. If you decide you do need something off your chest, come talk to me."

"Thank you."

"And don't take your problems out on the students."

"Was I?" Severus asked in surprise. He had thought he had stayed in his room all day.

Her nostrils flared in irritation. "We discussed Ms. Portchester's detention yesterday." Severus shrugged. He did not remember that part of their conversation either, and all the detentions from last week had nothing to do with his mother's worsening health, not that he would disabuse the deputy headmistress of the notion. Minerva's jaw worked, and she sighed. "To sum up, I do not believe it was deserved. Don't do it again."

Severus felt so miserable and apathetic at the moment, he actually rolled his eyes at the her. "No more detentions for Ms. Portchester. Got it."

Minerva's lips thinned dangerously. "We'll discuss this more at your meeting with me. Tomorrow morning at 10:15. Don't be late. You'll have one with Albus too, I'm sure."

Any retort he might have thought of died the instant he heard the rustle of the Protean journal. He had been distracting himself from his itching hives by re-reading some of Petunia's anecdotes from earlier in the fall, trying to figure out how else he could relate to Harry in future. He failed to close the thing properly in his misery and hungover inattention when Minerva came in, just dropped it carelessly on the end table.

Minerva found the source of the sound and picked up the journal curiously, which magically fell open to the active page, as it was meant to. Her eyes widened as she watched a new message from Petunia appear. "Severus, what is this?"

"It's a journal enchanted with the Protean charm," he grumbled, slouching further in his chair.

"I can see that. Where did you get this? Who has the other one, and why are they writing to you about Harry Potter and Potter's muggle family?" The last was a veritable shout that set his tender ears ringing.

"I made it," he said evenly. "I gave the other to Petunia Dursley last year. I knew her when I was a child, before Hogwarts. I answer her questions about magical youth as best I can."

Minerva gaped down at the journal again. "P is for Petunia... You're S, obviously. V is her husband, then?"

"Vernon, yes."

"You were at Petunia Dursley's house on Friday?!"

Severus winced. "Yes. It was her idea. I was also there for Harry's birthday, and briefly around last Christmas."

"Please tell me Albus knows about this."

"...I will tell him at the meeting tomorrow," he said grudgingly.

Minerva dropped the journal again and leaned her forehead on her fist. She inhaled sharply and moved her lips silently as if praying for patience. "I am disappointed, Severus, that you would risk that boy's safety like this."

Now Severus was annoyed. "I assure you, Minerva, I have been extremely cautious up 'til now. I am confident you are the only witch or wizard who knows that I have ever been to that house. And nothing you can say to me will cause me to regret it."

She huffed. "Fine. If you're discrete enough to turn traitor on You-Know-Who, I'll trust you're discrete enough for this, at least when you're not drunk. This part is Albus' problem. But you will tell him about it, by tomorrow at the latest. And you're not to leave the castle until you've spoken to him; I'll have the house elves make sure of that." Severus rolled his eyes again. He had no intention of leaving this room today, let alone the grounds. She was just being petty now. "You best keep better care of that journal from now on."

"You don't have to tell me that," he sneered.

Minerva stood up suddenly. "Alright, I'm done bothering you. For now. I have the whole week's schedule to rearrange. I trust you'll be in better shape tomorrow, and ready to return to work on Tuesday."

"I will," he agreed. He did feel guilty for being so grumpy at her when she was trying to be understanding.

"Good. And I meant it before. If you need a friend, I am here. You shouldn't be so alone, Severus, not now." She left without another word.

Severus received one other visitor that day. It was after lunch, when he had finally forced himself to start grading the mountain of student homework waiting for him. He was being unusually lenient, because he couldn't be bothered correcting everything. He wondered idly what the students would think of his sudden vacillations, not that he really cared one way or another. There was a timid knock on the door, and he gruffly called for entry. A Hufflepuff fifth year and prefect opened the door. She was one he had given detentions to three times this year alone, Melody Perkins. She was holding flowers, a cluster of grapes, and a card. Severus stared at her in surprise, wondering if this was a hallucination. It shouldn't be, he reasoned. He was not a chronic alcoholic. "What is it?"

She nervously stepped into the room. Finally, she smiled weakly. "Er, hello, Professor. Professor McGonagall told us all at lunch that potions classes tomorrow were canceled, because you were ill. Er... us 'Puffs figured that was why you were docking so many points and things last week, that you already were feeling under-the-weather, so this here's our apology for probably making you feel worse..." She extended the flowers and grapes. The card fluttered to the floor between them. Severus slowly reached down to pick it up. Melody quickly added, "I'm not trying to get out of detention or anything! I'm sure I probably deserved it! Just, um, get well soon..."

"You can put them on the desk," he said. Or rather, he tried to. It seemed his voice was gone. Perhaps he had miscalculated and his throat would soon be closing up from the Schatzki Vagal Tonic after all. The student understood, though. She took two steps forwards, set the flowers and grapes down, and practically ran from the room. He was unsure if she was terrified of him in general or merely of the possibility whatever he had was contagious. He appreciated Minerva had not told everyone he was suffering a hangover.

He looked down at the card. It was yellow, with large, cartoonish letters spelling Get Well Soon! on the front of it. There was also a drawing of a kitten with what appeared to be a muggle thermometer in its mouth, blinking up at him with droopy eyelids. He opened it up but had to close it again almost immediately; the inside was written in eye-straining color-changing inks. He took up his wand and muttered, "Impedimenta." The freezing jinx had many obscure utilitarian purposes beyond dueling. He opened the card again, all the colors temporarily static, and read,

Dear Professor Snape,

We are very sorry to hear you are sick. We know it must be very serious because you have never canceled potions class even once before. We appreciate your dedication to our education, even if we're not very good at showing it. We will try harder when we are back in class to follow your instructions and keep our voices down, especially while you are convalescing. Please forgive us for all the times we have been really, really clueless buffoons.

Get well soon!

Love,

All the Hufflepuffs

Indeed, it appeared virtually every Hufflepuff student had signed their names, even the sixth- and seventh-years who had dropped his class. He felt strangely touched as he closed the card again. These tokens from the Hufflepuffs more than anything Minerva had said to him made Severus feel rather guilty about all the detentions; none of his students had ever before been so nice to him. Of course, no one besides Lily had been nice to him when he was a student himself, either. He found himself wondering if he would have been happier in school if he had been in Hufflepuff.

He snorted to himself at that thought, but he carefully set the card on the shelf over the desk. The Sorting Hat may have struggled to place him, but Hufflepuff was the one house it had not considered for even a moment. He may be relatively hard-working, but he was not at all dedicated to this job, and no one had ever called him patient, fair, or nice, not even in jest. Well, he would try to reign in his impatience at the students, at least a little. Who knew how long that would last.

Author's Note: well, Hogwarts was going to find out about this at some point, right? Will continue to update Fridays, and thank you all for the reviews! Title is reference to Ogden's Old Firewhiskey. Thank you for the reviews! Also, I am ahead of my drafting schedule and may take to updating Fridays and Sundays for awhile. :)