Is She Really...? or What Happens When You Try To Drown Your Sorrows?
Title: Is She Really...? or What Happens When You Try To Drown Your Sorrows.
Team: The Ladies with Party Masks
Word Count: 100 x 8
Rating: Teen - for language
Challenge: Multitude including Turkey, No dialogue...
Author's Notes: Not mine, no beta and I’m not even sure it really works... but I needed to write this daft, stoopid plot bunny.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Severus Snape awoke to a cold, dismal January morning. His eyes were bleary and his head felt like a herd of elephants were trooping through, in short, Severus felt like the living dead.
He tried to remember what had prompted another mammoth night of binge drinking.
Lucius was away in the south of France.
Minerva had stopped harassing him about going out more.
He’d ventured out to Hogsmeade and witnessed a nausea invoking exhibition. Neville Longbottom had been, drunkenly, trying to extract the tonsils of Hermione Granger.
He’d decided that getting drunk was preferable to witnessing more of their engagement.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Hermione awoke with a start and groaned as she turned to look at the clock on her bedside drawers. The luminous acid-green numbers informed her that it was 11:15. As she raised her head slightly from the pillow it had been resting upon, a wave of nausea swept over her.
Blindly, she reached out from under the covers searching for the small purple vial that held certain relief within its perfect curves. She sighed as her fingertips alighted upon the bottle.
Fighting the rising nausea, she sat up and quickly drank down the liquid nectar.
She would never drink again.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Severus rose from his bed and blindly stumbled across his bedroom suite to the bathroom. He barely made it in time before his stomach churned in objection and he gagged and retched.
All hail to the pail, Merlin bless Armitage Shanks.
Wiping his lips with the back of his hand, Severus rose to his feet once more. Ignoring his reflection in the large mirror, he blindly fumbled in the cabinet before retrieving a small, curvaceous bottle and drank the contents with one gulp.
Damnation to Hermione Granger, Impotence upon blasted Longbottom; they were welcome to each other.
He didn’t care.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
As the warm water pounded rhythmically upon her skin Hermione replayed the previous evening’s events. She’d gone out in the hope that she would ‘stumble’ across Severus and be able to strike up an intelligent conversation with him. She’d ended it playing tonsil tennis with Neville Longbottom.
“Blistering Baldric’s Bollocks, way to go Granger,” she chided herself. “That’s how not to go about ensnaring a snarly Potions masters.”
Turning the taps off, she ran the palms of her hands over her face before squeezing the excess water from her mass of damp hair.
She definitely needed to go Cold Turkey.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Severus took a bracing shower, shaved in record breaking time, and got dressed in charcoal trousers and a grey polo shirt. His head had ceased to spin, and his stomach rumbled to remind him he hadn’t eaten since the previous evening. Glancing at the clock, he exited his room and made his way to the hall.
The growl from her stomach was deafening. Hermione looked at her reflection in the mirror, she looked better than she felt, but that wasn’t saying much. With a practiced arc she applied her make-up before exiting her room and heading for the Great Hall.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Severus seated himself in his usual place and began to load his plate with mash, parsnips, and roasted chicken. He wasn’t sure that he’d eat it all, but he needed it to coat his stomach.
He didn’t stir when Hermione sat beside him; he merely concentrated on the contents of his plate.
“Would you pass me the mash,” Hermione asked, gently nudging his elbow.
Severus didn’t look up; he just nudged the bowl in her general direction.
Hermione sighed, she was back to square one; he must have been in the pub last night.
Circe-cursed Yule, what to do now?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Look, Severus, I don’t know if you were...”
“Witness to Longbottom sucking your face off? Unfortunately I did witness a second or two of your encounter; I had mistakenly given you more credit, Granger. I thought you and I... well it doesn’t matter what I thought, I hope you and Longbottom will be happy together.” He pushed himself back from the table and rose from his chair.
“Severus,” Hermione hissed whilst grabbing his sleeve. “It’s not... it wasn’t... look I don’t fancy Neville, Ifancyyou.”
“What?”
“I fancy you,” she murmured, staring at her feet.
Slowly, he lifted her chin upwards.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“We should take this some place more... intimate,” he replied as his eyes locked hers.
Hermione took the proffered hand and followed him out of the hall. She felt like a schoolgirl once more, following Severus down to the dungeons for detention.
Without a word, Severus slipped into an abandoned classroom and pulled Hermione in with him.
“Did you mean what you just said?”
“I did,” she whispered.
“Circe, woman, why Longbottom?”
“It just... look I’m never going to drink again!”
Severus smiled down at her before kissing her lips softly.
“I think I can swap one addiction for another.”
Team: The Ladies with Party Masks
Word Count: 100 x 8
Rating: Teen - for language
Challenge: Multitude including Turkey, No dialogue...
Author's Notes: Not mine, no beta and I’m not even sure it really works... but I needed to write this daft, stoopid plot bunny.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Severus Snape awoke to a cold, dismal January morning. His eyes were bleary and his head felt like a herd of elephants were trooping through, in short, Severus felt like the living dead.
He tried to remember what had prompted another mammoth night of binge drinking.
Lucius was away in the south of France.
Minerva had stopped harassing him about going out more.
He’d ventured out to Hogsmeade and witnessed a nausea invoking exhibition. Neville Longbottom had been, drunkenly, trying to extract the tonsils of Hermione Granger.
He’d decided that getting drunk was preferable to witnessing more of their engagement.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Hermione awoke with a start and groaned as she turned to look at the clock on her bedside drawers. The luminous acid-green numbers informed her that it was 11:15. As she raised her head slightly from the pillow it had been resting upon, a wave of nausea swept over her.
Blindly, she reached out from under the covers searching for the small purple vial that held certain relief within its perfect curves. She sighed as her fingertips alighted upon the bottle.
Fighting the rising nausea, she sat up and quickly drank down the liquid nectar.
She would never drink again.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Severus rose from his bed and blindly stumbled across his bedroom suite to the bathroom. He barely made it in time before his stomach churned in objection and he gagged and retched.
All hail to the pail, Merlin bless Armitage Shanks.
Wiping his lips with the back of his hand, Severus rose to his feet once more. Ignoring his reflection in the large mirror, he blindly fumbled in the cabinet before retrieving a small, curvaceous bottle and drank the contents with one gulp.
Damnation to Hermione Granger, Impotence upon blasted Longbottom; they were welcome to each other.
He didn’t care.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
As the warm water pounded rhythmically upon her skin Hermione replayed the previous evening’s events. She’d gone out in the hope that she would ‘stumble’ across Severus and be able to strike up an intelligent conversation with him. She’d ended it playing tonsil tennis with Neville Longbottom.
“Blistering Baldric’s Bollocks, way to go Granger,” she chided herself. “That’s how not to go about ensnaring a snarly Potions masters.”
Turning the taps off, she ran the palms of her hands over her face before squeezing the excess water from her mass of damp hair.
She definitely needed to go Cold Turkey.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Severus took a bracing shower, shaved in record breaking time, and got dressed in charcoal trousers and a grey polo shirt. His head had ceased to spin, and his stomach rumbled to remind him he hadn’t eaten since the previous evening. Glancing at the clock, he exited his room and made his way to the hall.
The growl from her stomach was deafening. Hermione looked at her reflection in the mirror, she looked better than she felt, but that wasn’t saying much. With a practiced arc she applied her make-up before exiting her room and heading for the Great Hall.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Severus seated himself in his usual place and began to load his plate with mash, parsnips, and roasted chicken. He wasn’t sure that he’d eat it all, but he needed it to coat his stomach.
He didn’t stir when Hermione sat beside him; he merely concentrated on the contents of his plate.
“Would you pass me the mash,” Hermione asked, gently nudging his elbow.
Severus didn’t look up; he just nudged the bowl in her general direction.
Hermione sighed, she was back to square one; he must have been in the pub last night.
Circe-cursed Yule, what to do now?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Look, Severus, I don’t know if you were...”
“Witness to Longbottom sucking your face off? Unfortunately I did witness a second or two of your encounter; I had mistakenly given you more credit, Granger. I thought you and I... well it doesn’t matter what I thought, I hope you and Longbottom will be happy together.” He pushed himself back from the table and rose from his chair.
“Severus,” Hermione hissed whilst grabbing his sleeve. “It’s not... it wasn’t... look I don’t fancy Neville, Ifancyyou.”
“What?”
“I fancy you,” she murmured, staring at her feet.
Slowly, he lifted her chin upwards.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“We should take this some place more... intimate,” he replied as his eyes locked hers.
Hermione took the proffered hand and followed him out of the hall. She felt like a schoolgirl once more, following Severus down to the dungeons for detention.
Without a word, Severus slipped into an abandoned classroom and pulled Hermione in with him.
“Did you mean what you just said?”
“I did,” she whispered.
“Circe, woman, why Longbottom?”
“It just... look I’m never going to drink again!”
Severus smiled down at her before kissing her lips softly.
“I think I can swap one addiction for another.”