Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associated ideas, characters, places and events are the property of J K Rowling. Severus Snape and Hermione Granger pairing is not canon, there is an age difference of almost twenty years (please consider wizarding standards) and are in a student/teacher dynamic.

Years of Burden explores the ancestral origins, life decisions and obsession of Severus Snape. The story starts at a pivotal point in his life in 1996 when Dumbledore has instructed him that should the opportunity arise he must be the one to kill him. Snape falls into a spiral of drug and potion abuse, internal dilemma, moral corruption and temptation. Can anyone bring him from the depths of despair?

The story also follows Hermione Granger's struggles and growing attracting to her Professor. In light of his allegiance to the Order of the Phoenix she is forced to see him in a new light. Snape's enigmatic and sporadic disposition entices an intellectual interest and physical attraction despite Hermione's own protests (She does NOT like Professor Snape) and with Harry and Ron otherwise occupied her compulsion to find answers no matter the cost is left to fester.

Warnings – swearing, drug and alcohol abuse, murder, betrayal, assassination attempts, sexual intimacy, physical and sexual abuse.

Hope you enjoy the story.

Polyplectron

CHAPTER ONE

Enough is Enough

~~oOo~~

Albus Dumbledore peered warily over his half-moon spectacles with an earnest look of concern etched across his face. After all, it was a Headmaster's duty to ensure that all staff members were setting fine examples for impressionable students and slouching over a dinner plate, playing with one's food, did not constitute well-mannered behaviour.

"Eat Severus"

It was a simple enough request but it elicited a negative response from his companion. Severus Snape had no intention on eating or heeding the Headmaster's request so instead he continued to push cuts of meat around his plate and slowly rub his temple with a faltering hand. The usually authoritative man looked tired and sickly. His thick hair hung slick down either side of his face creating black steel curtains containing an impenetrable scowl. The expression was half hearted for he found that this evening his energy was quickly escaping him but appearances still had to be kept.

"Must you constantly order me about?" Snape hissed. He was finding it difficult to keep a hold of his fork and placed it down gently with a shaky hand. The tremors were the unfortunate side effects of weeks abusing potions and mixing concoctions instead of retaining a healthy diet and sleeping regularly. When one bounces back and forth between teaching hoards of rowdy students and participating in Death Eater raids there is little time for a decent nap or nutrient rich meal. A balanced lifestyle was a luxury that Snape had yet to experience and even if he had the time to sit down to a meal (like now for instance) he could never bring himself to eat. Food was like ash.

"It would not be necessary Severus if you were to tend to your more primal needs properly," castigated Dumbledore, "How it worries me, that you have been helping yourself to Poppy's storages for weeks now instead of attending meals regularly. You cannot sustain yourself on pepper up potions. Enough is enough."

Enough was enough it seemed as Snape released a string of obscenities internally whilst being mindful of his companies occlumency capabilities. The Headmaster's reprimand was the final straw on a gruesome week and Snape decided he would be better suited to taking his meals in isolation. Slowly he summoned what little energy he had left and thrust himself off the chair to stand, hands flat on the table to support his weight, the chair teetered and slam backwards against the stone floor. The sound drowned out amongst the clamour and chatter of the Great Hall, much to Snape's pleasure and he turned to glare at Dumbledore, raising to his full height and regaining what usual fearsomeness he exuded.

"Yes Albus," he whispered so as not to draw attention to his departure, Snape was not one for theatrics and he detested scene causing, "enough is enough. Seeing as my eating ritual does bother you so from now on I shall take meals in my quarters, out of sight and out of mind, and as for Poppy's potions I created the majority so my entitlement to a vial or six is self-explanatory. It is not as if I have the time to make my own. Good evening." Snape turned and stormed out of the Great Hall, his dark cape billowing angrily in his wake. The bitterness he radiated made a startling impression on the students he past, causing them to shy away or frown angrily at him, after all the dreaded Bat of the Dungeons and many a student had cause for feeling dispassionately towards him.

The Headmaster stared after his colleague with a small frown of annoyance replacing his look of concern. Once Snape had disappeared through the Great Hall doors Dumbledore released a terse sigh and turned his attention towards the charcoaled remains of roasted poultry. At the sight he absent-mindedly he cradled his blackened hand under the table, it was as dark and unfeeling as the remains on his plate and the thought made him feel slightly ill. Reorganising his thoughts he mused on his fleeing colleague, Snape was a very stubborn man, almost as stubborn as himself, but Dumbledore knew when to put the priorities of the wizarding world over self-pity and laziness. Snape had never been able to see the 'big picture'.

How can he ever expect to be useful to me if he keeps putting his own health in danger?

Despite the series of events that brought Snape and Dumbledore together, the aging Headmaster had come to care for the younger man over the years on some level. Through pity or sympathy he could no longer tell but to put it in simple terms, one would describe there relationship as one of unquestionable loyalty. Neither particularly liked the other but they had an ultimate trust in one another, regardless of their very different reasons for defeating their common enemy. Dumbledore was still very aware of the reasons why Snape was fighting for the light and risking his life in the darkness and in all honesty the older man wondered if the Snape's allegiance to Lily Potter was still paramount. Without her influence over Snape, where would the bitter man be this very day? In Azkaban? Dead? Snape was positively a catalyst for the prophecy coming to fruition and his involvement for success was integral.

What a heavy burden to have on one's shoulders.

Dumbledore knew all too well the weight of life's burdens but it was unwise to dwell. Never the less the newly appointed Defence Against the Dark Art's teacher was still the same selfish little boy who had entered this very hall twenty five years ago. A little boy who had his heart set on being broken, a startling passion for dark arts and now was cursed to suffer the rest of his life because of it. Dumbledore hummed in deep thought,

Severus never did say thank you for being granted the position

Snape had only been asking for the position his entire teaching career and Dumbledore had a plethora of request letters in his office to prove it. Dumbledore's constant rejection was based on two dominating factors. Firstly the position was cursed allowing no DADA teacher to teach a second year, he could not risk losing Snape over something so trivial as teaching a subject and secondly, the Slytherin was too obsessed with Dark Magic and his exposure to it might unearth his old passions for powerful and unstable magic.

Dumbledore was not foreign to Snape's youthful fascination for powerful magic he himself once became lost in an endless conquest for eternal power but only ended up hurting those he claimed dearest, just as Snape had. Not many knew his involvement with Gellert Grindlewald expanded that beyond what can be found on a chocolate frog card. A forbidden love and ancient power had been chaotically intertwined. Ultimately his youthful admiration and infatuation with his old friend had been his undoing. Grindlewald's hunger for the Dark Arts and the Deathly Hallows had resulted in his imprisonment in Nurmengard an action which had broken and hardened Dumbledore's heart. Never would he allow himself to truly love again.

Raising his golden goblet of fine sherry to his lips, Dumbledore closed his eyes and took a long sip. The flavour was slightly bitter but the taste of the brew was the furthest thing from his mind. His dead man's hand brought his dangling mortality to the forefront of thought and his past present and future hung in the balance. Aberforth hated him, Gellert was incarcerated, Tom was at large, Harry was not yet ready to fulfil his destiny and Severus was falling apart at the seams. That was the price of power; utter bedlam. In the end Dumbledore had gotten what he wanted and at the end of his long life, that achievement alone was enough, the Elder wand, the Resurrection stone and the Invisibility cloak, all three Deathly Hallows were in reaching distance and in his command. Everything he and Gellert had ever wanted.For years against his better judgement he had wished to visit Gellert one last time, for reasons only a rational person would describe as selfish and now that he was reaching an end perhaps it was time to grant himself one last request.

To his side Minerva McGonagall bristled at Professor Snape's abrupt departure and eyed Albus suspiciously. She was not aware of Snape's decline in health and it would hardly bother her if she had noticed. McGonagall was much more concerned by the injustices delivered to her house. The beginning of the term had begun with a whirlwind of unjust detentions and humourless attacks on her Gryffindor students and to say she was very unimpressed was putting it mildly. At the forefront of the onslaught was Professor Snape who was taking his personal vendetta against Gryffindor to new extremes. And now, when the future was very bleak and uncertain, was not the time to berate the already anxiety ridden students. Once Dumbledore finished a savouring sip she addressed him with a bursque clearing of the throat.

"Albus, we have to discuss Severus's behaviour as of late," seethed McGonagall, "Are you aware he has deducted over two hundred points from Gryffindor this week alone? It's preposterous and utterly ruthless! I am all for a healthy bout of house rivalry but I am afraid he is taking it well over respected boundaries."

The feather in her hat kinked roughly as she tossed her head back and forth animatedly, emphasising her frustration at her colleague. Dumbledore nodded vaguely, placing his goblet on the table and resting his head on half knitted fingers. The cursed hand felt little pain but was incredibly awkward. Discussing Snape's behaviour was something that should be unnecessary; he was Head of Slytherin, a teacher for over a decade and a respected individual. The fact that he was being more than unfair than he usually was should not arouse the distaste of Minerva of all people; usually she revelled at a challenge.

"Minerva, I am fully aware of Severus deducting of house points and I will rectify the problem with all due reason but perhaps the matter that needs discussing is Severus himself. Poppy has informed me that Severus has been pilfering potions from the Hospital Wing instead of attending meals and I dare say it has been having some dominating influence on his work ethic. I have already expressed my concerns with him and did not sit well at all."

A small itch enticed Dumbledore to reach towards his chin and tug softly at the beard hair; in the process he placed his darkened hand on the table, a sight that was relatively new to the staff.

"Yes I saw him leave that is why I- Albus what in Goddrick's name happened to your hand!"

McGonagall sucked in a harsh breath at the sight of Dumbledore's blackened hand.

"What have you done to yourself?"

"Nothing too serious but unfortunately this little ailment of mine is resistant to even the finest concealment charms. But fear not Minerva, it is nothing to feel so distraught over." His lie did nothing to take the fire out of his colleague's eyes but McGonogall said nothing of the matter.

With a pop, the deserts materialised on the table and Dumbledore's mood instantly lightened. Calling himself sentimental, he eagerly grabbed a clean spoon and scooped into the steaming pudding. He rested his dead hand on his golden goblet and admired the turquoise stones lining its curves. It was his favourite goblet, given to him by Gellert, it has belonged to a famous wizard lord, the name had escaped him over time but that was irrelevant for the goblet only held sentimental value to him now. Knowing that he had still managed to keep it after all these years seemed to soothe him and remind him of happier days. McGonagall responded with a tight lipped smile and a deep frown as she turned her attention to a small lump of coconut slice that had also materialised.

"You have to put an end to this Albus," she chewed, "In all your wisdom you choose to keep the staff and myself in the dark on important matters but when it comes to the students I will not stand for a blind eye. I understand that Severus has been undergoing missions on behalf of the Order and perhaps it has been taking a toll on him mentally and physically, one can only imagine what it is like to stand before He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and return to live another day but we must not lose our heads. The students must not see us in disarray, only through solidarity can we truly triumphant and I will tell you now, a snake stirring kittens makes for one ferocious mother cat. I will get my claws out Albus. No longer will I tolerate his abuse of staff privileges, or his abuse of my students or his ridiculous reasons for deducting points. Severus needs some bloody good counselling!"

Savouring the satisfaction of bread and butter pudding in his mouth, Dumbledore neglected to respond straight away. Instead he looked out over the sea of students. Happily eating their Sunday night feast and swapping important gossip of the week amongst themselves. Some of the older girls at the Slytherin table giggled at a group of boys at the Ravenclaw table. A few Hufflepuffs were sitting at Gryffindor table discussing the upcoming Quidditch match and a few younger Hufflepuff's and Ravenclaw's were in a heated discussion with the Fat Friar who looked nothing but amused.

To be young again. . .

Looking closer he could see Harry Potter. The young lad was laughing at Ronald Weasley whose mouth was overflowing with food and apparently finding it difficult to swallow. Next to him sat a very unimpressed Hermione Granger and embarrassed Ginny Weasley. It was hard to believe that these were the same students who battled mountain trolls, defeated basilisks and cursed diaries, conquered dragons and battled Death Eaters within the Ministry's walls. It was even harder to believe that these where the students that held the fate of the wizarding world in their hands.

Dumbledore broke into a sad smile. Harry will carry an even greater burden once he passes on. The boy will blame himself, so much for his impending death, that it may derail him from completing his destiny and all Dumbledore could do until his demise was condition and train the boy into overcoming personal woes for the greater good, just as he has Snape. Harry was fortunate that he had friends and family that will support him through this terrible transition but for Harry Potter the worst is only yet to come.

~O~

Hermione Granger felt eyes upon her and looked up at the head table. The Headmaster was staring at her, the familiar twinkle absent from his eyes. He looked sad. Slowly he tilted his head forward in acknowledgement to her. Next to him Professor McGonagall seemed to be bitting his ear off for some reason because she was chatting away animatedly and gesturing broadly with her right arm towards the Great Hall entrance. The Head of House must have been having a disagreement about Professor Snape because moments before he brushed angrily past Gryffindor table. Hermione smiled sympathetically at Dumbledore and he returned the gesture with pinched lips. Satisfied she turned back to the dinner table, Ron was choking on his food and she was far from impressed. Hermione now understood why the Headmaster returned her gesture of sympathy. Obviously Ron's immature behaviour had now become a spectacle and judging by the Slytherin's mocking them nearby they had quite the audience.

"Will you stop eating!" she scalded the red headed boy, "you are making such a scene, it is embarrassing just sitting here with you!"

"Mrph ermegerd!"

"Ugh! Disgusting, Ron you're getting food everywhere!" cried Ginny, who banished potato from her robe with a flick of her wand.

"Harry stop laughing this instant! This was hardly the brightest idea you both have ever had and now he is choking. Do you both honestly think Ginny and I are impressed by this? Seeing how many potatoes he can fit in his mouth?"

"You are both potato heads and I am embarrassed to call you my brother Ron." clipped Ginny and Hermione agreed with her motion by crossing her arms in annoyance.

Harry slapped Ron on the back roughly and Ron sucked in a harsh breathe, he coughed and slowly regained his breath. Ginny and Hermione sat rigid with arms crossed over their chests. Looking triumphant at his effort Ron turned to Harry and ignored Ginny and Hermione's death stares.

"Yes! Five baked potatoes Harry you owe me one galleon."

"One galleon?!" asked Harry incredulously, "I thought we agreed four sickles? That's a long stretch mate."

"Blimey, I remember one galleon!"

"One galleon for attempted suicide via potato are you both mental?" interjected Hermione.

"Calm down 'Mione," said Ron brushing down the front of his robes, "it was only a bit of fun, can't blame us for wanting to have a little bit of fun."

"Ron your idea of fun is vile" she snipped. "Now a poor house elf has to come and clean up all the mess you made" she indicated to the chunks of food now covering the table.

Scoffing, Ron used to sleeve of his robe to wipe his face, "Loosen up Hermione, you need to relax"

"Loosen up?," she scoffed, "I'll loosen up once dinner returns to some form of normalcy, just once I'd like to enjoy dinner with my friends without being showered in food or publically embarrassed!"

The girls began to banish the mess from the table to save the house elves the trouble, an act that caused sensational laughter from the Slytherin table. Embarrassed, Hermione moved to pack away her Numerology and Grammatica text book that she had been revising under the table but was horrified to find potato smeared all over the front cover.

"Look what you have done my book!" she shrieked. Hermione's face was bright pink with anger and the laughter amplified at her outrage.

"First world problems Mudblood!" yelled a fifth year Slytherin.

Harry and Ginny shot daggers at the Slytherin table and engaged in a heated interchange of angry words and verbal curses while Ron looked sheepishly at Hermione's ruined text. The last thing he had wanted was to enrage the wrath of his friend. Ron knew how precious books were to her, especially boring ones like Arithmancy. Unbeknownst to him a lot of the others students were watching them and Ron had never really done well under pressure so no matter how this argument played out he was going to cock it up somehow and embarrass Hermione even further.

"I'm real sorry 'Mione I'm sure it'll come out with a scourgify, pass it here I'll fix it"

A grubby hand launched out to seize the book but the girl's reflexes where almost stoat like.

"No! Are you dense Ronald? You cannot scourgifya leather book it will wrinkle! You have to clean it by hand with diluted water pat-dry it using a micro-fibre cloth and then you must apply a moisturiser to stop it from drying out. "

"What is a macro-fibby cloth? Is that some type of muggle cleaning thing. You don't need those type of things in the wizard world 'Mione, Mum uses scourgify to clean Dad's leather jacket and old books I'm sure it'll work on your crummy book. I'll prove it!"

Ron pointed his wand at the book and yelled scourgify. Now Ron was mediocre at best with cleansing spells, after all Molly adopted majority of the house cleaning out of pure dominance. So it was no surprise to anyone except Ron when the book warped and wrinkled under the spell's magic. Harry and Ginny turned too watched awkwardly as the book dried into a wrinkled mess, barely legible to a highly skilled interpreter and certainly no longer useful for Arithmancy. Ron was beside himself and Hermione turned an even darker shade of red. She was almost crimson. The laughter from the Slytherin table had become infectious and they had aroused the attention of the entire hall and many eyes were upon them.

"S'pose a thank you is out of the question then" muttered Ron, red eared.

"Ronald Weasley" she whispered in harsh tones, "I told you not to do it, why on earth would you do it when I specifically told you not too?"

"I was only trying to help 'Mione," now annoyed that she was taking the accident out on him, "there is nothing wrong with your book it's just a little wrinkly. You have to calm down, it's a bloody wonder you can keep any friends these days with that attitude. Don't be so ungrateful."

Ginny and Harry's jaws dropped and Hermione looked stricken. At the high table Dumbledore rose from his seat having had his full share of confrontations and arguments for tonight and encouraged loudly for the children to finish their meals, bid them all goodnight and exited the Hall. After the Headmaster left slowly but surely the hall was once again filled with mediocre gossip and mindless chatter but at the Gryffindor table the awkward silence was infectious. Encouraging many of the younger students to leave the table. Hermione hugged the ruined text close to her chest and held back the tears that were threatening to fall.

"Are you alright Hermione?" asked Ginny but Hermione ignored her and instead picked up her satchel bag and shoving her wrinkled Numerology and Grammatica into it. Regaining what dignity she had left Hermione pushed up out of her seat and walked out of the Great Hall, passing through the Fat Friar in her wake.

"Nice going Ron, you always say the most stupid things! You two are never going to end up together at this rate, you are such a bloody git!" hissed Ginny who pushed up from her seat, seethed at her brother and ran off after Hermione. Turning to Harry, Ron had a look of confusion on his face and he did not understand how something so simple had escalated so quickly.

"Nice one Ron" goaded Seamus as he passed Harry and Ron on his way out of the hall, "yer have such a way with women."

"Piss off Seamus!" Ron sighed, "What is everyone's problem Harry? I don't understand it at all. One minute I am sitting her with my best friends having a laugh and then 'Mione has one of her famous fits, she's mental she is! It seems anything I say to these girls they flip the lid and nothing I say ever comes out right. It's like they are meant to hate me, I mean I was only trying to help her out a bit."

"I don't know mate," answered Harry, "I am just as confused as you but you really shouldn't say things like that to Hermione. You know her books are important to her and after obliviating her parents earlier in the year, we are really all she has left. You think she really wants the idea of her not having friends on her mind?"

Harry picked up his spoon and resumed eating his pumpkin soup. It was cold now, but it did not bother him, years of eating the scraps the Dursley's gave him taught him to appreciate even the most mediocre meal. Harry allowed Ron to muse over his words. It was bad enough the impending doom of Voldemort's retaliation looming over them but having his best friends quarrel was something he did not appreciate right now. It was so hard to watch them bite at each other's throats when their attraction was so obvious. Watching Ron choke on potatoes was the first time he had truly laughed since Sirius had passed through the Veil. Harry needed more laughter not more fighting! He wished Luna had come over and sat with them, she always knew just what to say, although, whatever Luna would say would usually be very unusual, but it would be enough to distract any awkward tensions over to her.

"Yeah I guess so," slumped Ron, "I don't know what Ginny's all on about though. Me and Hermione? Yeah that's a right laugh, me and her. . . . we are just friends, just friends. Good friends."

"Sure thing mate" offered Harry, absent-mindlessly, his attention was distracted by a heated discussion between Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy and the latter stood with his goons Crab and Goyle and exited the Great Hall. As they passed Gryffindor table Malfoy casted Harry a hateful look and disappeared out the doors.

"I know he is up to something," mused Harry, interrupting his friends rant, "but what?"

~O~

Severus Snape sat sullen in his worn club chair. The threads were pulling at the seams from age and years of picking compulsively at it while reading many scrolls of student parchments. In one hand he held a glass tumbler with no ice and in the other a bottle of Odgen's Firewhisky. Staring blankly at the roaring fire in front of him, he poured himself another drink. The bottle was almost finished but he could make out about an inch or two left until he reached the bottom.

"Not a bad effort indeed."

Long ago had he ditched his heavy dress robes and buttoned up jacket, sitting only in his trousers and black dragon hide boots. It felt, reassuring, to feel the cold nip of the coming winter and the roasting fire biting his skin, it made him feel alive. Slowly, he kicked off his boots and carelessly kicked them over the other side of the room, aiming for a black chest; it was about a metre in length and was carved with Anglo-Saxon imagery. It was covered with his discarded clothing. Normally he was anally retentive about folding what little clothing he owned to ensure longevity bit tonight, he so lacked in energy that he had not bothered. Flexing his toes in the dark shag carpet he let the tumbler slide out of his hand onto his side table. A sigh escaped him, in the comfort of his living quarters he could finally try to relax and forget about all of his burdens, only alcohol could allow him to lower his guard. The occlumency walls that he had been developing since 1982 made it difficult for him to relax and would leave him with a terrible ache, one that alcohol dulled considerably.

The shag carpet felt good between his toes, it was the little things that helped.

Snape's chambers were spacious enough to suit him. Lining his walls were rows upon rows of leather bound books, hard cover literature and manuscripts. Sheepishly he had neglected to read over half of them as many were obtained via unwanted gifts, Death Eater raids and various potions books Dumbledore thought necessary for his practice but still lay unopened and unappreciated. Every now and then an obscure object would be propped up against a book containing watery specimens and suspicious powders he valued too highly to keep in the potion storages. He always tried to keep his personal objects and potion supplies separate but they always found a way to coincide. The lighting in the room was dark, which he preferred; he owned one large overhead candle lamp which he used for reading. It was charmed to hover over him so he could move about the room while he read.

While he sat in his drunken stupor he tried his hardest to avoid looking at his accursed ink. One decision made in his youth that could not be taken off via laser removal. In his younger years he had contemplated cutting off his arm to remove the tattoo in an act of drunken passion but thankfully years earlier another fool had tried a similar tactic and the tattoo simply moved to another part of his body. As if sentient the Dark Mark sent a small but noticeable pinch up his arm, demanding his attention. Looking down, the ink seemed to darken, appearing more vivid and ominous than any other moment in their time together. The snake coiled around the decaying skull, a vision that he so desperately loathed. Did it sense his doubt? Ignoring the tattoo he closed his eyes and welcomed a familiar sight that had plagued his thoughts for as long as he had been branded with the Dark Mark.

Lily Evans hovered in his mind's eye, plain as day and pure as ever. Resembling the last time he ever saw her, cold and dead on the floor of Potter's Cottage. The vision only solidified his festering guilt but at the same time it was the only thing keeping him together, knowing that one day, all his devotion and hard work will make up for the part he played in her death. In front of him Lily Evans floated, silently screaming at him and pointing the finger. Her appearance was sporadic but usually occurred when he was feeling overburdened or intoxicated. The sight made him feel a mixture of comfort and despair.

"You always yell at me," he stated as a matter of fact, "but I never know what you are saying."

The woman flicked her red hair and shot a scathing look at him. He opened his eyes.

"Am I not suffering enough perhaps?"

He picked the tumbler back up and knocked back the remaining liquid. It burned his throat on the way down causing him to double over and choke. Tears clouded his vision as he feebly tried to regain his composure. Slowly his breathing calmed, his throat fell numb and the unshed tears were blinked away angrily. Annoyed at himself for drinking too hastily he threw the tumbler at the fireplace. The tumbler exploded into a cloud of shiny shards that flew out of the fireplace covering a considerable amount of carpet and his neglected clothing. The fire hissed in retaliation, the added fuel enlarged the fire causing it to cast shadows that danced manically around his living room. Snape smirked a lopsided grin and knocked back the remaining Odgen's straight from the bottle. The bottle soon joined the tumbler but to Snape's disappointment it did not smash, only the label took to the fire quickly, it coiled and turned to ash.

Snape was not aware how long he had been staring at the fire. It was not until the Ogden's bottle rolled out of the fireplace and onto the carpet did he truly wake up and pay attention. And if it was not the bottle falling out of the fireplace it was fire that dragged along with it causing the shag carpet to catch alight.

"Bollocks!"

Quickly he drunkenly pointed his wand in the general direction of the small patch of fire and soundlessly fired Aqua Eructo. A powerful jet of water erupted from his wand and collided with the fire. It bounced off the floor and smashed into the fireplace with such force that Snape was propelled backwards and fell hard behind the club chair. A shower of water began to rain upon Snape, drowning him as he tried to coherently sound the counter charm. The sheer coldness of the water forced him awake and eventually he managed to shout the counter charm and end the endless rainfall. Staring in disbelief Snape took in the sight of his living room, completely saturated, his fireplace was empty and his clothing was sprawled all over the now charred shag carpet. Cursing to himself he allowed his body to drop backwards onto the floor, his arms dropped heavily to his sides and he willed himself into unconsciousness. Everything will be taken care of in the morning, for now it was better for him if he passed out and forgot how stupid he was. As he slowly drifted off to sleep Lily reappeared, bending over him with her arms crosses and a large smirk on her face. And as the vision of her grew darker and his consciousness grew weaker Lily's smirk turned into a face of meek concern and pity.

"It's not my fault." he slurred as he finally fell asleep.

Snape's reading lamp hovered over him faithfully acting as the only light source in the room, it illuminated his tight skin, his shallow pectus excavatum and his jutting hip bone that poked out awkwardly against the rim of his trousers. His greasy hair lay wet and limp across his face, covering his unseen tears that began to trickle out of his eyes as he slept. Tomorrow he would wake up cold, sick and angry but tonight he would sleep a dreamless sleep and it was these nights when he was drunk and doped up on Dreamless sleep were when he slept a most peaceful sleep.

To be continued. . .

~~oOo~~

Hope you enjoyed this chapter don't forget to leave a comment!

Notes:

*Snape doesn't normally drink but in light of Voldemort's second coming and Dumbledore's behest to be the one to kill him should the opportunity arise well, that's enough to make the man want some kind of relief. He is not a social drinker and does it in the confines of his own quarters because being intoxicated is a weakness that anyone would love to take advantage of.