Don't own Harry Potter. Un-betad, therefore read at your own risk.

Catching Lightning in a Firewhisky Bottle

by WriteAlong

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Catch lighthing in a bottle - to do the impossible

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"You are drunk…"

Said 'drunk person' groaned as he opened his eyes, bits of snow stuck to his eyelashes. The world swayed as he tried to focus on the sound. Where the hell was he?

"Wha cha talk'n 'bout?" He managed to slur, wondering why his tongue wasn't working properly. What had happened again?

He weakly protested when he was pulled up before his arm was slung over someone's shoulder. Its owner grunted as the stranger leaned heavily on him. The drunk's inability to stand made it difficult to take the first steps through the freezing snow.

"No seriously Mister… you really are." The young man grumbled as they stumbled on.

"R'ly?" His voice sounded incredibly surprised, completely forgetting about the fact that he had been trying to escape the younger man's grip.

"Incredibly so." The young man supporting him humored him, eying the bottle of very strong Firewhisky in the man's hand.

That was quite expensive stuff. To drink that in one go… he must really have been trying to forget something.

"Duh!" The drunk started laughing harshly. ""I'm ash sober ash 'm gonna git. And nuffink I – wait."

The raven-haired drunk man paused thoughtfully as he tried to figure out what he was trying to say to his rescuer. "And! There's nuffink you can do 'boutit."He finished with a solemn nod, which his whole body accidently seemed to follow. This in turn made the two of them tumble to the ground as the younger man couldn't hold them up any longer.

Both of them groaned as the icy snow enveloped them.

The sober man pushed himself to his feet again and looked down on the drunken man that was still groaning quietly. He sighed to himself, wondering why his conscience had to get the better of him when he had spotted the drunk in the freezing snow. In these horrible times, it wasn't that unusual to see drunken people at night, but they usually stayed at his Dad's pub or at home.

He hadn't looked like he would have moved any time soon.

The young man tried to lift the other man to his feet, but it was of no use. He rubbed his forehead, knowing that the pub wasn't that far away. His father would be there, he knew.

"Damn that magic rule." He wasn't allowed to cast spells yet. "I need some help. You eh… stay right here. Okay?"

"Shre"

He didn't have a clue what the man had said but nodded anyway.

"Right. I will be back soon."

He hoped.

Waking from his snooze, the drunk's green eyes automatically snapped open as he heard them approach, their boots crunching the snow beneath them.

Light entered his vision as they arrived at his fallen form.

"Daniel, you really have to be more careful with trusting people." The older man admonished as he met the absent gaze of the raven-haired man at his feet.

The teenager twitched. "But Dad, he might have died. There are too many people dying as it is."

The man sighed, knowing that his son had a point. "Still…"

"Ya should lissen to ya Dad." A voice slurred the man's green eyes were strangely focused on them. "Cnstn Vigilansh!" The man cried out indistinguishably, lifting a finger for emphasis. Having no energy, it soon flopped back to the ground.

The father figure squatted, leaning over the man. The light from the lamp that he carried shone down on the man's face. He didn't know him, but he looked vaguely familiar.

"Who are you?"

"I'm…" The man muttered, frowning as he scratched his stubbly beard.

Something flashed across his face and he said a little louder. "I'm…"

The two men held their breath.

"Drunk!"

The two men sighed, while the drunken man erupted into loud laughter, which eventually sounded more like sobbing than actual laughter. The father gave his son a pointed look.

"You sure know how to pick them."

The teenager shrugged, looking away and grumbling something under his breath.

"Let's get him a room and let him sleep it off. Just make sure that someone with a wand keeps an eye on him." He told him as he brandished his wand.

"Wingardium Leviosa."

Unfortunately, the spell didn't have the effect that they had hoped. Sure the man was lifted from the ground, but the man's reaction was rather violent. The two men started as the man's green eyes widened in panic and started screaming. "No! Leggo! Leggo! NO! Lemego!"

He struggled - no fought – aggressively against the spell and actually managed to break it without wand and get out of it. Never before had either of the men see something like that happen.

'Drunk' fell to the ground, somehow managing to catch himself. "Deatheaters!" He hissed dangerously as he swayed. "How dit ya find me? I'll kill ya Voldie-master ya her me?" He heaved his bottle back –

A flash of a spell later and the apparently Not-Death Eater was back on the ground, unconsciousness.

"You sure know how to handle drunkards." Daniel jabbed back to his father, whom coughed awkwardly.

"Let's try that again, shall we?"

At least, the man seemed to be an enemy of the enemy, the pair decided. No-one in their right mind would say the name of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named like the man had just done.

No matter how drunk. Well… except for this one that is.

"How is our newest guest doing?"

Rosmerta, who had been cleaning the bar, turned to her boss and smiled as she spotted the dark circles under the man's eyes. The man sighed and rubbed his head.

"Daniel really picked out a bad one to help out." Daniel Senior answered the barmaid and nodded thankfully as she held out his cup of coffee.

"Lucky him." She started as she continued to wipe the bar. "He should be glad that Daniel found him. Is he at Hogwarts again?" The father hummed in confirmation as he took, in his opinion, a well-deserved sip of hot coffee.

"Are you waiting until the stranger is sober? I noticed he made a ruckus."

"He is giving me even more grey hairs already." Dan agreed, moving his hand though his short brown-but-greying hair. "Hopefully he will be sober. No matter what Daniel and I tried, we couldn't get rid of his liquor." Dan pondered. "We have no clue how he manages to do that."

The girl's interest perked and she leaned forward. "He casted spells on his liquor?" This would be a great story for the guests tonight. An amusing story to laugh at, that was what everyone wanted nowadays.

"It's ridiculous." The man agreed, smiling slightly nonetheless. "The moment you don't look at it. It disappears back to the man's side. When we get rid of the whisky itself, it returns to the bottle. We eventually had to resort to find a way to keep the bottle closed, so he can't drink out of it."

The girl whistled.

"Neat! Could he teach me that?"

The smile disappeared. "I'm not sure if he wants to do anything when he is sober again. After he finally calmed down and decided we weren't… one of them. He seemed to stop caring. We helped him in bed. His wand seemed to have been broken and when we helped him out of his clothes… I think he has been tortured."

Rosmerta twitched, but couldn't help but ask meekly. "How bad?"

"I'm glad that Daniel had left by then."

"That bad?"

"Really bad." The man sighed unhappily.

The two of them remained silent for a moment before a third party interrupted.

"By him?" A female cook shakily asked as exited the kitchen and approached the pair. "Sorry, I couldn't help but listen in."

"I don't know." The man admitted but his eyes turned heavy. "Though by the looks of it, it wouldn't surprise me."

"Poor man." The bubbly woman muttered and Rosmerta nodded. Their eyes were troubled.

"Keep this to yourselves." The boss told them warningly. "No blabbering, you hear me?! If people are after him…"

The pair nodded.

"Anyway. Back to work!"

"Yes Dan!"

Unfortunately, but just as he expected, the stranger was still drunk the next morning.

Dan knocked and waited, wand in hand. He didn't get a reply and therefore he slowly opened the door. There were no curses flying towards him, so he regarded it somewhat safe. As he walked into the room – his wand ready just to be sure - it took a moment to find the drunkard.

Said man was currently in the process of throwing up in one of the baskets in the room. His hands were shaking badly, rattling the bucket in the process. His wild hair stuck to his sweaty forehead. The man groaned and feverish eyes landed on him.

"K'll me." He groaned.

Dan started and hesitated, before he answered. "I'm sorry, I don't follow."

"I sh'ld be dead!" The man spat, trying to stand up, but failing. The bucket fell sideway to the ground, while the man himself fell back against the wall. He slid to the ground sat there pathetically, looking at up at the dim light in the room. He breathed heavily and groaned. Sweat continued to drip down his face.

Dan slowly approached the unsteady man. The boss may have a lot of experiences with dealing with drunks – it was not the first time that people spoken to him like this – but this man seemed to be on a whole another level.

"Did something bad happen?" He cautiously asked as Dan crouched down halfway the room, not wanting to get any closer.

"Bad?" The man repeated with a slur. "Bad?" He repeated again, louder this time. "They k'lled her! She- She. She wash good! Good!" He yelled, stumbling over his words.

He clenched his fist and punched the wall behind him in an attempt to release his distraught emotions. "I couldn'tdo anyth'ng! I could not safe her!" He growled.

"I didn't! I- She died! Just like them! I failed them too! Like everyone!"

Whisky's hands landed on his face and he rubbed it angrily. Dan watched uncomfortably as the broken man in front of him broke down.

"I dunno wanna know anymore." The man muttered, reaching for the flask of Firewhisky on the ground. He took a swig, only to find out that nothing came out. He moaned. "Nooooo…. Pleash. No." He slurred and let out a wringed sob.

Dan tried to be strong, but watching the man writhe so brokenly before his eyes was too much. Soon he couldn't take it anymore and canceled the spell.

He watched with heavy eyes as the man gulped down the liquid like it was his last resort. Finally he calmed somewhat and his eyes dimmed.

Dan frowned. Its effects were too quick. Was it really only Firewhisky in there?

Taking a deep sigh, the inn owner carefully approached the man again and slowly held out his hand. "Maybe you should lie in bed and sleep." He stated as he watched the pained man lock eyes with him.

"Sleep?" The man repeated, his slur back in place. He squinted at his hand and then once more at his face – locking eyes with him in the process. Dan felt an odd shiver run down his spine before the man slowly nodded and reached out to accept his gesture.

Dan moved his hand to the right to make sure that the man didn't miss it and pulled the man up. Helping him into bed, he made a mental note to warn his staff to be careful with this one. Dimming the light, he took one last look back, before he let the man sleep.

That is, as peacefully as a broken man could.

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