Day 41

Day 41
Friday, October 11, 1996
Severus was quite in his cups when Potter woke up and emerged from the bedroom at half two in the morning. He stumbled out muzzy-eyed, messy-haired, and naked but for the lines crawling over his body. Severus, sitting in the near-dark and still drinking, watched him with hooded eyes and didn't say anything.

Potter didn't say anything, either. He approached Severus slowly and took the glass from his hand, and Severus was too taken aback to protest. Potter put it down on the small table next to the chair, grabbed a blanket from the couch, wrapped it around his shoulders, climbed on Severus' lap, and went back to sleep.

Severus, still taken aback, blinked at the fireplace, tucked Potter's head under his chin, and summoned his scotch.

***
Potter woke up in a panic. Severus could tell because he was sitting in the chair next to the bed, watching Potter sleep, and because the Fidelius informed him that Potter was in some sort of trouble. The boy thrashed in the bed and sat up with a soft cry, looking about the room wildly before seeing Severus. He stopped panicking.

"What are you doing?"

Severus had no idea. He stared at the outline of Potter's body and didn't say anything. Potter tried again. "What time is it?"

"Just gone five."

"At night?"

"No."

"Why'd you let me sleep so long?"

"It's not as if you've anything else to do, Potter."

Potter considered that and shrugged. "When are you leaving for class?"

"I'm not."

"Why not? What day is it? What happened to classes?"

"I canceled them."

"For me?"

Severus opened his mouth to say no. "Yes."

"You're very drunk, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Come to bed?"

"I'd rather not."

"If you're going to be creepy and watch me sleep, at least touch me while you're doing it. I sleep better with you."

"I don't care."

Potter paused, apparently to change tactics. "I thought you said you didn't get drunk."

"I'm an inveterate liar, Mr. Potter. I should think even you would have figured that out by now."

"I don't know what 'inveterate' means."

"Color me shocked."

"You could tell me instead of making fun of me, and I'll know next time."

"Habitual. Firmly established."

"See? That wasn't so bad. And I did know that, thanks, and I don't care. Please come to bed."

Severus stood. "You're speaking nonsense."

"Like you're in any condition to know." He stood up on shaky legs in the middle of the bed and started trying to fix the sheets. Severus rolled his eyes and reached for his wand, righting them quickly. Potter sat back down.

"Do not think that the imbibing of alcohol divests me of enough of my faculties to render me less lucid than you, Potter." He began unbuttoning his robes.

"God, who talks like that? Just get in bed."

"I talk like that." Severus stepped out of his robes and over to the side of the bed. "And don't give me orders."

"Sorry, sir," Potter said, clearly unrepentant.

Severus sneered, all too aware Potter couldn't see him, and slid under the sheets. Potter waited a few seconds for Severus to get settled, and then sprawled presumptuously over his chest. Severus, his defenses battered by alcohol, and utterly exhausted by assorted Potter-induced traumas, fell into a deep sleep.

***
Potter once again woke in a panic, which woke Severus. Severus, not used to sleeping and therefore not used to waking up, also woke in a panic, and was on his feet with his wand at the ready within seconds. Potter, seeing this, went for his own wand and flew off the bed, putting his back to Severus' and looking for the danger. They stood there like idiots, chests heaving, for several long seconds before either one of them realized there wasn't actually any danger.

Severus turned, crossed his arms, and glared down his nose at Potter, whose shoulders sagged as he turned around and looked up sheepishly. "Er. Good morning, sir."

Severus failed to see anything good about it, and he tossed his wand on the bed in disgust before heading for the loo. Once there, he splashed cold water on his face and willed his heart to slow down; the pounding was hurting his head. Being drunk was easily remedied with potions. Being hung over, on the other hand, was a problem. He glared into the mirror. Merlin, he loathed sleeping. His head felt full of cobwebs, his mouth felt full of cotton, his muscles were sore and stiff and not functioning properly, his bedroom smelled of stale, fetid air, and the entire endeavor was a colossal waste of time.

He stepped into the shower and stood under the cool water for a long time, his forehead against the tile. He stayed long enough for his head to clear and his muscles to stop trembling and start obeying orders. When he emerged, he was still hung over, but his mood was slightly less foul. He spelled his hair dry and wrapped a towel round his waist before going back into the bedroom, where Potter was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, surrounded by a stack of newspapers. He looked up with an uncertain smile, but Severus wasn't yet in the mood for conversation. He curled his lip, shrugged into his robes, and went to the kitchen to make breakfast. Potter, miraculously showing some modicum of sense, did not follow him.

***
"So," Potter said, using his fork to shove eggs from one side of his plate to the other. Severus raised an eyebrow. "Er. What are we going to do today? Sir."

Severus ground his teeth. "I have no intention of dancing for your amusement, Potter. You will begin viewing lectures via Overseer on Monday. You will continue your training. You will recover from your epic battle with the Dark Lord. Et cetera."

"But that's Monday. We have all weekend. Can't we..."

Despite the fact that spending three days in bed with Potter was not entirely distasteful, Severus' lip curled. "If you are not capable of saying it, Potter, then we ought not be doing it."

Potter stared for a moment and then threw his fork down on the table. "Fuck you, Snape," he snapped. "I'll be reading. Come find me when you're not being such a bastard."

"You shall never see me again," Severus muttered under his breath.

"Brilliant," Potter shot back, and stormed out of the room. Severus' own fork clattered to the table, and he dropped his head to his hands. He had played many roles in his life, but 'considerate partner' was not one of them. He'd liked his chambers as they were -- a sanctuary, free of the expectations of the outside world. He resented Potter's intrusion but recognized both that the brat had nowhere else to go and also that he himself had been half-mad without the boy around. Severus resented the implications. He resented the entire situation, full stop, and he wasn't sure he would be able to make the concessions necessary to pull the thing off properly. On the other hand, if he continued to goad and snap at Potter, he would very likely find himself serving yet another Dark Lord, a prospect which was distinctly unappealing.

He summoned the Oban from the other room and poured himself a glass, wondering how in Merlin's name he always found himself in these sorts of predicaments, doing things he could barely stomach for wizards he could barely tolerate.