(no subject)
Who: Harry and Snape
What: Drinking
When: Friday Evening
Where: Dive
Rating: TBD
Status: Incomplete/partial log
Harry loosened his tie as he stepped out of the police station and tugged the door shut tight behind him on the last day of his first week. It'd been a plainly boring one. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt as he took off in the direction of his mother's home and the nearest bar he could find. Despite Snape's words at the beginning of the week, this town hadn't offered him any challenges so far. All in all, Harry found it a welcome change from London. For a time. If things kept up this way, he thought he might go completely insane.
He ducked into the bar as unobtrusively as possible, keenly aware of his status in the town and what it would mean if people caught him running around pissed off his arse on a Friday night.
Snape had set himself up in a dark corner of the bar, drinking himself into a stupor. Every day he told himself that he wasn't going to drink again, but then the tedious boredom of life outside of a war would get to him.
Seven years. He'd lost seven years. Snape knew he should be grateful that he was at least alive, but seven years.
He looked up when the door opened and his eyes narrowed at Harry's entrance. Did the sodding brat have a town to save or something?
Scowling, his eyes tracked Harry's progress toward the bar as he sipped his bourbon.
Harry eyed the bartender warily as he was handed something that looked like sludge that had gone through a strainer and poured into his glass but was twice assured that it was, in fact, a rum and coke. Shrugging, Harry paid for his drink and slid off the bar stool and surveyed the mostly empty club. It was early still, barely seven, but Harry got the feeling this place wouldn't get much more crowded that night. His gaze roamed around the room, almost lazily until he spotted Snape. In the back. Of course Snape would sit in the back, in the dark, by himself. That, at least, made sense.
He headed over without waiting for any more acknowledgment then he was getting and slid onto the chair opposite the surly git. "Come here often?"
Snape watched Harry approach and was surprised to find himself unsurprised that the man was joining him. He couldn't even begin to understand their post-war, post-death relationship, but if nothing else, it might give him an opportunity to hex the brat.
"No," he lied, pulling his drinking closer as if afraid Harry would try and take it from him. "What are you doing here?"
"Same as you, I suspect. Cheers." Harry raised his glass and then knocked some of his drink back. The taste wasn't as awful as he had expected. He eyed his glass once to make sure he hadn't accidentally magically altered the contents to his liking, before setting it back down. He'd done stranger things without meaning to.
"Shouldn't you be at home? Parenting or something?" he asked, waving a hand in the air, his thoughts vague on the subject.
"Probably," Harry agreed affably. He should have gone to talk to his mum first before going out. But the idea to come here hadn't hit him until he was stepping out the door. He didn't plan on staying long though.
Snape snorted, and sipped his drink, watching Harry over the rim of the glass. "Are you attempting to get drunk enough for a quick fumble in the men's room?" Snape asked, arching his eyebrow in question.
Harry choked and could feel the sting of liquid going up his nose, making his eyes water. "No!"
Snape smirked, feeling smug at the reaction he'd gotten. If nothing else, he could still push Potter's buttons. Thank god something was the same.
"Perhaps you should stick to pumpkin juice."
"Thanks." Harry rubbed his nose on the back of his wrist, trying to get the tingling feeling to shove off before he took another sip.
"Did you know, Potter," Snape said, resting his elbow on the table, his glass waving in the air as he talked, "that Dumbledore was a giant poofter?"
Eyebrows rising, Harry reached out and snagged the half empty glass from Snape's fingers and sniffed the contents curiously and nearly gagged. Oh wonderful. "So everyone told me. How many of these did you have?"
"Not enough. I can still feel my feet," Snape replied, snatching back his glass. "Who is everyone and what did they tell you?"
"That's healthy." Harry let the glass go with reluctance. He took another hazarding sip of his own drink, realizing he'd only be having the one if Snape planned on getting home that night. "Just...everyone."
"You!" Snape shouted toward the bar. "He needs another one of those...whatever it is!" he ordered before looking back at Harry.
Snape pointed a long finger at him. "You'd make a rubbish spy. It's all in the details, Potter. You need to remember who said what and when. It could save your life one day."
"No, I don't--What're you doing, I haven't even--" Harry started when Snape brought that long finger back in front of his face. "I'm sorry?"
Snape made a look of disgust. "Do you ever pay attention?"
When Harry's drink arrived, Snape glared at him. "Drink up, Potter." If he was going to be drunk, then Potter was damn well going to get drunk with him.
Harry glared and took the new glass, dumping the contents over the first glass, refilling the old one to the top pointedly. "It's not like finding out Dumbledore was a shirt lifter affected anything," he grumbled.
Snape blinked at him. "What does that have to do with anything?" He nodded at Harry's glass. "Drink."
Harry gritted his teeth and purposefully played with the ice on the top of his glass. "You tell me. You were the one who brought it up."
Snape didn't reply, merely stared at Harry and arched an eyebrow toward his glass.
Sighing, he took a swig of his drink and set it back down on the table with a clack.
"Sodding Hufflepuff," Snape groused, rolling his eyes. "If you're not here to drink, Potter, why did you come to a bar?"
"I came here for a drink, Snape." Harry eyed Snape for second, before asking. "Why're you here then?"
"To get drunk," Snape answered, tossing back his drink. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he set his glass on the table. "From the moment you set foot in Hogwarts, a hot toddy was the extent of alcohol I was able to consume. Now, there's nothing to stop me."
He refilled his glass from the half empty bottle of bourbon and looking defiantly at Harry, took another drink.
Harry winced and covered it with his own drink, realizing if he drank it too fast Snape would just get him another one. "It's you liver," he said, wondering if he could, in good conscience, leave Snape here and go to get Teddy and head home. The answer was plain: no.
"If you're not going to drink, sod off," Snape growled. "I don't need you looking down on me from your high and mighty horse, Potter."
"I am drinking," Harry emphasized that by taking another mouthful and showing the half-empty glass. He reckoned that was about one full drink down. Which was as much as he had wanted to begin with. "Just...not as much as you are. I didn't know it was a competition."
Snape leaned back in his chair, running a finger around the rim of his glass. Contrary to what Potter might think, he wasn't drunk off his arse yet. Close, but not quite.
For a brief few moments, Snape's eyes drifted to Harry's lips, wondering what he would taste like. Probably puppies and sunshine. snape snorted in amusement at the thought.
"What?" Harry asked, unnerved by the stare. He sank backward in the chair without fidgeting, but Christ did he ever want to.
Snape shrugged, a slow smile appearing on his lips. He wondered what Potter would do if he asked him for a fumble in the bathroom. The man would no doubt have an apoplexy. It might be worth it just to see the expression on his face. Snape kept it in the back of his mind in case he tired of Potter's presence. It would be a sure fire way to make him leave.
"Nothing, at all."
Harry pressed his lips together in a thin smile. Something was going on behind Snape's carefully crafted smile and Harry thought it might be a bad idea to push to see what he was really thinking. Another night maybe. Or another few drinks. He eyed his now empty glass, frowning because he couldn't recall polishing it off. "If you say so."
"Suddenly you're listening to me?" Snape asked. "If only you'd shown as much respect as a student you might have learned something." Snape leaned forward, looking intently at Harry. He saw the stubble from his five o'clock shadow, and the weariness in his eyes. "But you're not a student anymore, are you," he said softly.
Harry found himself smiling, more amused by Snape's waffling than he should be letting on. "I haven't been for a long time." Not that long though. Six years was not that long of a time, but it was enough. "At least not yours."
Snape leaned back, cocking his head to the side. "Did they make you take your NEWTS, or did they just welcome you into the Aurors with open arms?" he asked derisively, almost certain of the answer.
"I took them." Harry did fidget this time, embarrassed, and a little frustrated that he wanted Snape to know that Harry had been offered an immediate position but did things the hard way. "They wanted me immediately though."
The unspoken words being, he could have completely botches his NEWTS and they would still want him at the Ministry.
Typical.
"I suppose I should give you credit for taking them anyway," he said grudgingly.
"You should. I re-did my entire seventh year too." And that deserved the rest of his second drink, which he swallowed in a hurry.
Again, Snape leaned forward, his eyes intense. "What of Minerva? Did she survive?" Suddenly, the answer was of the utmost importance to him.
"She did." Harry bit his lip and bowed his head. Things had been tough for the first year, Harry knew more than most just how much the destruction of the castle had affected Minerva along with Albus' death. They'd spent much of those summer months discussing what would happen that fall, amongst other things. Her health was failing though. And while she had been named Headmaster, Harry didn't think she would be staying in the position much longer. He silently toasted her with the last bit of his second glass, and let the tingling warmth spread out under his skin and settle in his cheeks.
Snape let out a breath and nodded. Putting an elbow on the table, he let his chin rest in his hand. "She was the closest thing to a friend I had," he said somewhat wistfully. "It was disappointing when she believed the lie. Necessary, but disappointing." He looked at Harry through half lidded eyes. "She attempted to kill me. Numerous times," he said, almost proudly. "The old cat could move like a...cat," he finished, looking confused.
"We all did." Harry let himself wonder what may have happened had he and Minerva known all along. The answer never sat well with him. They couldn't. If either of them had been caught and questioned...They just couldn't have been. "Thank Dumbledore for that one." Harry listened as Snape proudly, he was proud, funnily enough, told him how Minerva attempted to dispatch Snape from the Mortal plain more than once, before finishing really not eloquent for Snape. "I think you're drunk," he pointed out, not unkindly.
"That was the point," Snape replied, a lazy smirk on his face.
Sighing, he leaned back, sipping his drink. "Dumbledore, the ultimate puppet master," he mused sarcastically. "There were times I hated that man," he said softly. "There were times, Potter, when I wasn't sure which of them were worse. The Dark Lord or Dumbledore." Snape looked at Harry, grinning. "Darkledore."
Was it? Harry was pretty certain that was the exact opposite of any sort of point. He leaned forward, snagging Snape's bottle and pouring some into his own glass. "You are drunk." He savored the richer alcohol in his mouth before swallowing. "And I'm not drunk enough. Not for that. He loved you, you know. He really did."
"Be that as it may, he was willing to sacrifice both of us," Snape pointed out, his drunken smile turning into a sneer. "He didn't ask you to murder him. To risk what was left of your soul to do it."
"No, but he did make me poison him, which was really enough. Here." Harry topped off Snape's glass.
"Ta," Snape muttered, taking another drink. "Wait. What do you mean he made you poison him?"
"The stupid fucking locket?" Harry didn't swear, often, but he felt he was quite in the right with this. A part of him was angry with Regulus Black for cheapening that visit to the cave as much as he was grateful. It was a lingering sore point for him. They'd had the real locket right under their noses for two years. And no one had known. "It was in a basin of poison."
"A poison that could only be removed by drinking," Snape said, familiar with the Dark Lord's little tricks. "And of course, he couldn't let you do it, you weren't done with your part in the sick little play."
How Dumbledore even made it back to the castle under the influence of two curses was beyond him. Even if there had been time, Snape wasn't sure he could have done anything to help the man.
Snape raised his glass in mocking salute. "To Albus Dumbledore, the conniving old bastard."
Snape hated how much he still loved the old man.
Harry lifted his glass, clinking it gently against Snape's. Leaving the subject where it was. Dumbledore was part of the past, and Harry was certain that bar was still set. The we won't talk about the past unless it's about this sodding town. Which, Harry had nothing new to report. Even if he did, when Snape was this far gone, it was probably best to not mention it.
He realized, while draining his glass, that it was his third glass and if he wasn't careful, he'd be unable to get either of them out the door. Let alone to their appropriate houses.
"Are you drunk yet?" Snape asked, looking at Harry's empty glass. He smirked. "More to the point, if I push you in front of a lorry, would you be able to get out of the way?"
"Won't know until I stand up," Harry told him honestly. He suspected the answer was 'not quite', however. He blinked up at Snape from behind his glasses. "Do you want to?"
"No," Snape sighed, disappointed in his answer. "However, I wouldn't mind if you got your nose broken by a bludger."
Harry smiled into his cup of ice. "I did say I was sorry about that."
"And I'm sure I'll not be the least bit sorry when I return the gesture."
Harry stood, and yes, swayed just a bit on his feet, feeling tingles run straight through him as his vision swam. And then he was fine. A little warm, a little fuzzy around the edges, but good enough to step forward, he hoped. A lazy grin pulled on his lips as he pointed out. "You're not going to be able to do much in this state."
Snape scowled at Harry, insulted. "I bloody well could."
He pushed back from the table and got to his feet before sitting right back down again. "It occurs to me that I have no idea where I live."
Snape knew where he lived, but he was finding it difficult to figure out where exactly his new flat was from here.
"Right." Harry leaned his hip against the table while folding his arms across his chest. And just to prove how very unafraid of a pissed Snape he was, he stayed where he was when he stood and then sat again.
"You've forgotten?"
"Of course I haven't forgotten," Snape scoffed, brushing imaginary lint from his shoulder. "It's a flat on Butcher street. Number eleven."
It was number eleven wasn't it?
"I know where I live, Potter," he said, standing up again. This time, he was prepared for his head to spin and managed to stay on his feet. "I'm just not certain which direction it is."
Harry laughed. He couldn't help it. "I'm sure you do. Here. Let me just--" He pried the glass from Snape's fingers and then ducked under the man's arm, levering them both. Snape might be standing, but from experience, that didn't mean anything about moving forward.
"I don't need your help, Potter," Snape snapped. His body, however had other ideas as he leaned heavily against the other man. "I will not participate in a quick fumble in the bathroom," he warned.
Harry shook his head, bracing himself when Snape leaned against him. He hadn't thought Snape to be terribly heavy, but... "You wouldn't be able to keep it up even if you wanted one."
"Sod off, Potter."
The problem with that was, if Harry did sod off, Snape would probably end up face down on the ground.
"If you're implying that I'm impotent, I may hex you until you are."
Staggering under Snape's weight, Harry ended up with one arm wrapped firmly around Snape's waist and the other clutching the man's flailing hand.
"Yeah? Maybe I'll let you try when I get you some place to sleep."
What: Drinking
When: Friday Evening
Where: Dive
Rating: TBD
Status: Incomplete/partial log
Harry loosened his tie as he stepped out of the police station and tugged the door shut tight behind him on the last day of his first week. It'd been a plainly boring one. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt as he took off in the direction of his mother's home and the nearest bar he could find. Despite Snape's words at the beginning of the week, this town hadn't offered him any challenges so far. All in all, Harry found it a welcome change from London. For a time. If things kept up this way, he thought he might go completely insane.
He ducked into the bar as unobtrusively as possible, keenly aware of his status in the town and what it would mean if people caught him running around pissed off his arse on a Friday night.
Snape had set himself up in a dark corner of the bar, drinking himself into a stupor. Every day he told himself that he wasn't going to drink again, but then the tedious boredom of life outside of a war would get to him.
Seven years. He'd lost seven years. Snape knew he should be grateful that he was at least alive, but seven years.
He looked up when the door opened and his eyes narrowed at Harry's entrance. Did the sodding brat have a town to save or something?
Scowling, his eyes tracked Harry's progress toward the bar as he sipped his bourbon.
Harry eyed the bartender warily as he was handed something that looked like sludge that had gone through a strainer and poured into his glass but was twice assured that it was, in fact, a rum and coke. Shrugging, Harry paid for his drink and slid off the bar stool and surveyed the mostly empty club. It was early still, barely seven, but Harry got the feeling this place wouldn't get much more crowded that night. His gaze roamed around the room, almost lazily until he spotted Snape. In the back. Of course Snape would sit in the back, in the dark, by himself. That, at least, made sense.
He headed over without waiting for any more acknowledgment then he was getting and slid onto the chair opposite the surly git. "Come here often?"
Snape watched Harry approach and was surprised to find himself unsurprised that the man was joining him. He couldn't even begin to understand their post-war, post-death relationship, but if nothing else, it might give him an opportunity to hex the brat.
"No," he lied, pulling his drinking closer as if afraid Harry would try and take it from him. "What are you doing here?"
"Same as you, I suspect. Cheers." Harry raised his glass and then knocked some of his drink back. The taste wasn't as awful as he had expected. He eyed his glass once to make sure he hadn't accidentally magically altered the contents to his liking, before setting it back down. He'd done stranger things without meaning to.
"Shouldn't you be at home? Parenting or something?" he asked, waving a hand in the air, his thoughts vague on the subject.
"Probably," Harry agreed affably. He should have gone to talk to his mum first before going out. But the idea to come here hadn't hit him until he was stepping out the door. He didn't plan on staying long though.
Snape snorted, and sipped his drink, watching Harry over the rim of the glass. "Are you attempting to get drunk enough for a quick fumble in the men's room?" Snape asked, arching his eyebrow in question.
Harry choked and could feel the sting of liquid going up his nose, making his eyes water. "No!"
Snape smirked, feeling smug at the reaction he'd gotten. If nothing else, he could still push Potter's buttons. Thank god something was the same.
"Perhaps you should stick to pumpkin juice."
"Thanks." Harry rubbed his nose on the back of his wrist, trying to get the tingling feeling to shove off before he took another sip.
"Did you know, Potter," Snape said, resting his elbow on the table, his glass waving in the air as he talked, "that Dumbledore was a giant poofter?"
Eyebrows rising, Harry reached out and snagged the half empty glass from Snape's fingers and sniffed the contents curiously and nearly gagged. Oh wonderful. "So everyone told me. How many of these did you have?"
"Not enough. I can still feel my feet," Snape replied, snatching back his glass. "Who is everyone and what did they tell you?"
"That's healthy." Harry let the glass go with reluctance. He took another hazarding sip of his own drink, realizing he'd only be having the one if Snape planned on getting home that night. "Just...everyone."
"You!" Snape shouted toward the bar. "He needs another one of those...whatever it is!" he ordered before looking back at Harry.
Snape pointed a long finger at him. "You'd make a rubbish spy. It's all in the details, Potter. You need to remember who said what and when. It could save your life one day."
"No, I don't--What're you doing, I haven't even--" Harry started when Snape brought that long finger back in front of his face. "I'm sorry?"
Snape made a look of disgust. "Do you ever pay attention?"
When Harry's drink arrived, Snape glared at him. "Drink up, Potter." If he was going to be drunk, then Potter was damn well going to get drunk with him.
Harry glared and took the new glass, dumping the contents over the first glass, refilling the old one to the top pointedly. "It's not like finding out Dumbledore was a shirt lifter affected anything," he grumbled.
Snape blinked at him. "What does that have to do with anything?" He nodded at Harry's glass. "Drink."
Harry gritted his teeth and purposefully played with the ice on the top of his glass. "You tell me. You were the one who brought it up."
Snape didn't reply, merely stared at Harry and arched an eyebrow toward his glass.
Sighing, he took a swig of his drink and set it back down on the table with a clack.
"Sodding Hufflepuff," Snape groused, rolling his eyes. "If you're not here to drink, Potter, why did you come to a bar?"
"I came here for a drink, Snape." Harry eyed Snape for second, before asking. "Why're you here then?"
"To get drunk," Snape answered, tossing back his drink. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he set his glass on the table. "From the moment you set foot in Hogwarts, a hot toddy was the extent of alcohol I was able to consume. Now, there's nothing to stop me."
He refilled his glass from the half empty bottle of bourbon and looking defiantly at Harry, took another drink.
Harry winced and covered it with his own drink, realizing if he drank it too fast Snape would just get him another one. "It's you liver," he said, wondering if he could, in good conscience, leave Snape here and go to get Teddy and head home. The answer was plain: no.
"If you're not going to drink, sod off," Snape growled. "I don't need you looking down on me from your high and mighty horse, Potter."
"I am drinking," Harry emphasized that by taking another mouthful and showing the half-empty glass. He reckoned that was about one full drink down. Which was as much as he had wanted to begin with. "Just...not as much as you are. I didn't know it was a competition."
Snape leaned back in his chair, running a finger around the rim of his glass. Contrary to what Potter might think, he wasn't drunk off his arse yet. Close, but not quite.
For a brief few moments, Snape's eyes drifted to Harry's lips, wondering what he would taste like. Probably puppies and sunshine. snape snorted in amusement at the thought.
"What?" Harry asked, unnerved by the stare. He sank backward in the chair without fidgeting, but Christ did he ever want to.
Snape shrugged, a slow smile appearing on his lips. He wondered what Potter would do if he asked him for a fumble in the bathroom. The man would no doubt have an apoplexy. It might be worth it just to see the expression on his face. Snape kept it in the back of his mind in case he tired of Potter's presence. It would be a sure fire way to make him leave.
"Nothing, at all."
Harry pressed his lips together in a thin smile. Something was going on behind Snape's carefully crafted smile and Harry thought it might be a bad idea to push to see what he was really thinking. Another night maybe. Or another few drinks. He eyed his now empty glass, frowning because he couldn't recall polishing it off. "If you say so."
"Suddenly you're listening to me?" Snape asked. "If only you'd shown as much respect as a student you might have learned something." Snape leaned forward, looking intently at Harry. He saw the stubble from his five o'clock shadow, and the weariness in his eyes. "But you're not a student anymore, are you," he said softly.
Harry found himself smiling, more amused by Snape's waffling than he should be letting on. "I haven't been for a long time." Not that long though. Six years was not that long of a time, but it was enough. "At least not yours."
Snape leaned back, cocking his head to the side. "Did they make you take your NEWTS, or did they just welcome you into the Aurors with open arms?" he asked derisively, almost certain of the answer.
"I took them." Harry did fidget this time, embarrassed, and a little frustrated that he wanted Snape to know that Harry had been offered an immediate position but did things the hard way. "They wanted me immediately though."
The unspoken words being, he could have completely botches his NEWTS and they would still want him at the Ministry.
Typical.
"I suppose I should give you credit for taking them anyway," he said grudgingly.
"You should. I re-did my entire seventh year too." And that deserved the rest of his second drink, which he swallowed in a hurry.
Again, Snape leaned forward, his eyes intense. "What of Minerva? Did she survive?" Suddenly, the answer was of the utmost importance to him.
"She did." Harry bit his lip and bowed his head. Things had been tough for the first year, Harry knew more than most just how much the destruction of the castle had affected Minerva along with Albus' death. They'd spent much of those summer months discussing what would happen that fall, amongst other things. Her health was failing though. And while she had been named Headmaster, Harry didn't think she would be staying in the position much longer. He silently toasted her with the last bit of his second glass, and let the tingling warmth spread out under his skin and settle in his cheeks.
Snape let out a breath and nodded. Putting an elbow on the table, he let his chin rest in his hand. "She was the closest thing to a friend I had," he said somewhat wistfully. "It was disappointing when she believed the lie. Necessary, but disappointing." He looked at Harry through half lidded eyes. "She attempted to kill me. Numerous times," he said, almost proudly. "The old cat could move like a...cat," he finished, looking confused.
"We all did." Harry let himself wonder what may have happened had he and Minerva known all along. The answer never sat well with him. They couldn't. If either of them had been caught and questioned...They just couldn't have been. "Thank Dumbledore for that one." Harry listened as Snape proudly, he was proud, funnily enough, told him how Minerva attempted to dispatch Snape from the Mortal plain more than once, before finishing really not eloquent for Snape. "I think you're drunk," he pointed out, not unkindly.
"That was the point," Snape replied, a lazy smirk on his face.
Sighing, he leaned back, sipping his drink. "Dumbledore, the ultimate puppet master," he mused sarcastically. "There were times I hated that man," he said softly. "There were times, Potter, when I wasn't sure which of them were worse. The Dark Lord or Dumbledore." Snape looked at Harry, grinning. "Darkledore."
Was it? Harry was pretty certain that was the exact opposite of any sort of point. He leaned forward, snagging Snape's bottle and pouring some into his own glass. "You are drunk." He savored the richer alcohol in his mouth before swallowing. "And I'm not drunk enough. Not for that. He loved you, you know. He really did."
"Be that as it may, he was willing to sacrifice both of us," Snape pointed out, his drunken smile turning into a sneer. "He didn't ask you to murder him. To risk what was left of your soul to do it."
"No, but he did make me poison him, which was really enough. Here." Harry topped off Snape's glass.
"Ta," Snape muttered, taking another drink. "Wait. What do you mean he made you poison him?"
"The stupid fucking locket?" Harry didn't swear, often, but he felt he was quite in the right with this. A part of him was angry with Regulus Black for cheapening that visit to the cave as much as he was grateful. It was a lingering sore point for him. They'd had the real locket right under their noses for two years. And no one had known. "It was in a basin of poison."
"A poison that could only be removed by drinking," Snape said, familiar with the Dark Lord's little tricks. "And of course, he couldn't let you do it, you weren't done with your part in the sick little play."
How Dumbledore even made it back to the castle under the influence of two curses was beyond him. Even if there had been time, Snape wasn't sure he could have done anything to help the man.
Snape raised his glass in mocking salute. "To Albus Dumbledore, the conniving old bastard."
Snape hated how much he still loved the old man.
Harry lifted his glass, clinking it gently against Snape's. Leaving the subject where it was. Dumbledore was part of the past, and Harry was certain that bar was still set. The we won't talk about the past unless it's about this sodding town. Which, Harry had nothing new to report. Even if he did, when Snape was this far gone, it was probably best to not mention it.
He realized, while draining his glass, that it was his third glass and if he wasn't careful, he'd be unable to get either of them out the door. Let alone to their appropriate houses.
"Are you drunk yet?" Snape asked, looking at Harry's empty glass. He smirked. "More to the point, if I push you in front of a lorry, would you be able to get out of the way?"
"Won't know until I stand up," Harry told him honestly. He suspected the answer was 'not quite', however. He blinked up at Snape from behind his glasses. "Do you want to?"
"No," Snape sighed, disappointed in his answer. "However, I wouldn't mind if you got your nose broken by a bludger."
Harry smiled into his cup of ice. "I did say I was sorry about that."
"And I'm sure I'll not be the least bit sorry when I return the gesture."
Harry stood, and yes, swayed just a bit on his feet, feeling tingles run straight through him as his vision swam. And then he was fine. A little warm, a little fuzzy around the edges, but good enough to step forward, he hoped. A lazy grin pulled on his lips as he pointed out. "You're not going to be able to do much in this state."
Snape scowled at Harry, insulted. "I bloody well could."
He pushed back from the table and got to his feet before sitting right back down again. "It occurs to me that I have no idea where I live."
Snape knew where he lived, but he was finding it difficult to figure out where exactly his new flat was from here.
"Right." Harry leaned his hip against the table while folding his arms across his chest. And just to prove how very unafraid of a pissed Snape he was, he stayed where he was when he stood and then sat again.
"You've forgotten?"
"Of course I haven't forgotten," Snape scoffed, brushing imaginary lint from his shoulder. "It's a flat on Butcher street. Number eleven."
It was number eleven wasn't it?
"I know where I live, Potter," he said, standing up again. This time, he was prepared for his head to spin and managed to stay on his feet. "I'm just not certain which direction it is."
Harry laughed. He couldn't help it. "I'm sure you do. Here. Let me just--" He pried the glass from Snape's fingers and then ducked under the man's arm, levering them both. Snape might be standing, but from experience, that didn't mean anything about moving forward.
"I don't need your help, Potter," Snape snapped. His body, however had other ideas as he leaned heavily against the other man. "I will not participate in a quick fumble in the bathroom," he warned.
Harry shook his head, bracing himself when Snape leaned against him. He hadn't thought Snape to be terribly heavy, but... "You wouldn't be able to keep it up even if you wanted one."
"Sod off, Potter."
The problem with that was, if Harry did sod off, Snape would probably end up face down on the ground.
"If you're implying that I'm impotent, I may hex you until you are."
Staggering under Snape's weight, Harry ended up with one arm wrapped firmly around Snape's waist and the other clutching the man's flailing hand.
"Yeah? Maybe I'll let you try when I get you some place to sleep."