Part One
A/N: With thanks to Zsenya
for
her help with the story, and R.J. Anderson for leading me to
SugarQuill
in the first place.
Then we came
to
a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at
an
open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet
kicking
the empty wine-skins,
But there was
no
information, and so we continued
And arrived at
evening,
not a moment too soon…
-from
"Journey
of the Magi", T.S. Eliot
Albus had granted leave for the day to any faculty member who
wished
it. Seeing as it was Christmas Eve and I had not yet purchased my
sister
Medea a gift, I went down to Hogsmeade, spent some time in my flat
there,
and thought about what Medea could want. She enjoyed books - she was
a
researcher for the Department of Mysteries - and I could likely find
her
something at Bodley and Tohms. After a fortifying cup of tea, I
braved
the thickly-falling snow and trudged down the high street. It was
nearly
five o'clock, and the stores were preparing to close for the
holiday.
I'd have to hurry.
I entered the store followed by a whirlwind of snowflakes.
Browsing
the stacks, I found a copy of Magical Moron: The Unauthorized
Biography
of Gilderoy Lockhart. I figured that since I had complained to
Medea
all that year about that buffoon, she would enjoy the book. She
certainly
had enjoyed my letters about him, or so she said; apparently, they
served
as needed comic relief.
I paid and exited, keeping one hand firmly planted on my hat.
The
wind had picked up, and the snow seemed so thick as to be a
blizzard.
I managed to struggle about twenty feet back up the street before
having
to duck in the Three Broomsticks to shelter from the storm. Brushing
the
snow off of my cloak, I took a brief glance around to see quite a
brouhaha.
Rosmerta, the proprietress, was bawling out the young
bartender.
"If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times -
never
serve Severus Snape! The man gives me the chills, and I don't want
him
in my pub!"
The bartender, however, was giving as good as he got. Slamming
down
a shot glass, he shouted, "You saw how he was! A man in his
condition
needs a stiff drink - he doesn't need to be thrown out in the
cold!"
"That still doesn't excuse you giving him a bottle of -
"
I cleared my throat. Rosmerta jumped, saw me, and quickly
became
all smiles. "Professor McGonagall! What can I get for
you?"
I put on my sternest, most professorial look. "You can
tell
me where Professor Snape is."
Rosmerta immediately assumed an indignant look. "He
stumbled
out of here, drunk as a Muggle - "
"With no little assistance from Rosmerta's foot," put
in
the bartender with a glare.
Rosmerta returned the glare and continued, "And where he
went
from there, I neither know nor care."
I nodded curtly, thanked her, and left the Three Broomsticks.
Well,
really. Severus was not the most cheerful person in the world, but
even
drunk, you didn't shove someone out in the middle of a howling
snowstorm
- and on Christmas Eve, no less.
I could hardly see, and that was likely why I stumbled on
something.
I looked down at my feet and saw a body. A long, black-clad body
clutching
a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky and snow collecting on the limp
black
hair. It was Severus.
Sighing, I considered my options. I couldn't leave him there. I
couldn't
Apparate back to Hogwarts - even if the wards weren't there, I
certainly
couldn't get him to Apparate while he was inebriated. Floo powder -
now
there was an idea. I could take him back to my flat, light a fire,
and
get him back to Hogwarts from there. Having settled that, I drew out
my
wand and murmured, "Mobilicorpus!"
Having raised Severus in front of me, I kept an arm on his
shoulder
to keep him from being buffeted about too badly by the wind. He also
served
as a shield for me - a light punishment for being drunk, even if it
was
a holiday. He was a teacher, after all, and a role model. That sort
of
thing just wasn't done.
We reached my flat in due time, and after removing his cloak, I
stretched
him out on the old sofa in the living room. It was then that I
noticed
that not only was he soaked, a darker substance had crusted on his
shirt.
A reddish substance that looked a great deal like blood.
