Rough Times

Things were exceptionally hard. It was not only the grief and guilt, that was his own business, he could deal with them on his own; no, what was worse were the practical matters. Small things that hurt deeply, though he would never confess it.

As it was his first year of teaching, Severus, despite his introverted nature, had gone out of his way to please the other members of staff. He did not hope to belong, he knew he was not one of them - but he wished, at the very least, to blend in, for the room not to fall silent as soon as he walked in. Yet after five months, and despite Dumbledore's encouragements, things had not gotten any better. If anything, each of his efforts was met with even more suspicion by the staff.

That morning, when he had sat in the staff room in between two lessons, McGonagall had promptly gotten up and joined Flitwick on the other side of the room. This had reminded him not of his years as a student at Hogwarts, but of earlier days, those spent at his muggle primary school as one of the poorest students in the Cokeworth.

Feeling uneasy, he had turned to Professor Sprout to ask her about her newest shoots of evening primroses, which he hoped to be able to use for one of his experiments.

"They are not quite ready yet," she had answered rather coldly. "You can always try to grow your own."

"Of course," he had muttered. "Thank you for letting me know. Do you perchance have any free space I could use in the greenhouses?"

But she was already getting up, brushing her robes. "I can't say. I'll have a look if you like."

And she had left him there.

Both mortified and furious, he had left almost immediately, feeling his colleagues' eyes burning through his back.

"He wants to use my primroses for his potions!" Pomona had said as soon as he was out of sight. "Imagine if they were to harm anyone - I cannot take that risk."

Poppy nodded. "Albus wants him to brew my healing potions. What if he tried to poison a muggle-born? It is far-fetched, but I won't take them on principle."

Indeed later that day, when Severus had arrived in the hospital wing with a box full of potions, Poppy sternly turned him down. She had already ordered what she needed - she did not need any of those.

And he had stood there awkwardly, trying to calm his nerves. He had worked hard to make them, they were perfect, he was sure of it. But he understood that, if he were to leave them to her anyway, she would empty each of the vials in the sink as soon as he'd left.

His fingers, squeezing the box against his chest, turned white.

"Well, tell me if you need anything", he had finally said, knowing full well that she would do nothing of the sort.

Then he had left.

The headmaster was standing outside of the hospital wing talking to a student. He had seen him storming out, his face crimson red; but the younger man had disappeared in the nearest staircase before he could call his name.

Naturally, Albus was worried. Not only did Severus look sick and was losing weight, but he seemed, if that was possible, even unhappier than he had been a few months prior. The headmaster had thought, perhaps naively, that being back at Hogwarts would do him some good, that it would take his mind off the shallows of his mind. Clearly, he had been wrong, and his staff's trust, which he had lost after hiring the boy, had not returned with time. Minerva had been in his office the evening before, complaining of the way Severus treated the students, asking him to intervene. He had had, apparently, a particularly rough time with three seventh-year Gryffindors the previous afternoon. Albus had not had time to speak with him yet; he resolved to pay him a visit later that evening.

Albus knocked three times, shivering as he waited for an answer. This part of the castle was particularly cold at this time of year, and he hoped Severus kept his rooms warm.

A muffled voice, which he could barely hear, replied after some time. "What?"

"It's me, Severus. I wanted to have a word, if you're not too busy?"

There was a short pause. "Not now", the younger man answered.

Albus frowned. Severus' voice was different; his answers were not as formal as they usually were. The man normally chose his words very carefully.

He put his hand on the door's frozen handle. "Severus, are you sick? Just let me see you one minute, then I will not be bothering you any further. Severus?"

There was no answer. Increasingly worried, Albus called his name a few more times, to no avail. Using his headmaster's privilege, he finally unlocked the door, but with a rather uneasy feeling: he did not know the man that well, but he knew that he valued his privacy above all.

He would just check on him - that was reason enough to trespass.

The entrance corridor was dark and cold. A pale, white light came from the living room: Albus started walking towards her, but a sound under his shoes made him stop abruptly. Under his feet was broken glass, which he recognized to be the potions that had been in Severus' box earlier that day. They were scattered on the floor, having obviously been thrown against the nearest wall.

That wasn't good.

Severus was sitting very upright in an armchair, his hands wrapped around a glass of fire whiskey. He was staring at a dying fire in the fireplace. He had taken off his heavy cape, and there was an empty bottle on the table. Albus sat in front of him and gestured toward the fireplace. "You should not let your apartments get that cold, Severus. You will make yourself sick."

Severus reluctantly took his gaze off the weakened flames to look at the headmaster. His eyes were slightly glassy, his cheeks abnormally red. "I told you not to come in", he said after a moment. His hands were shaking. Sighing, Albus got up and took the glass away from him, emptying it with a gesture of his wand.

"You are in quite a state, young man. Alcohol is never the solution."

"With all due respect… headmaster- I did not ask for your advice on th'matter", the other man answered.

"Unfortunately, Severus, I am responsible for the well-being of the students of my school as well as that of my staff."

The Potion Master laughed bitterly. He thought of the potions he had brought to the hospital wing earlier: he, however, would not meddle with the students' well-being again.

As if reading his thoughts, Albus chose to tackle the subject.

"I suppose you are aware that there are a dozen broken vials in your corridor. Weren't they for Poppy?"

It was taking Severus more time to understand the headmaster than he would have wished.

"That bloody witch… she said she didn't need them… had asked St Mungo's to brew them for… for her… She thinks I'm going to poison the pupils!" he added, feeling another wave of anger rush through his body.

Albus peered at him carefully. "You mean she refused your potions?"

"Of course she did! And McGonagall keeps turning the students against me. And Sprout won't- won't allow me near her greenhouses… I just wanted to have a look at the mandrakes…"

His head was pounding. He closed his eyes; Albus pointed his wand at the fireplace to rekindle the fire.

"Do you have some tea in here, Severus?" he asked. Severus nodded.

He got up. Albus rose immediately, looking down at the man's unsteady legs. But he was surprised to see the man head successfully toward the kitchen, in what he certainly considered to be a straight line. Taking longer than he should have, Severus brought back a tea tray, stumbling only once. Then he was too dizzy to speak for a few minutes, and Albus, waiting for him to be responsive again, busied himself with the tea.

"They hate me, Dumbledore", Severus finally muttered, his eyes half-closed.

"I think they rather fear you," the headmaster replied, sighing sadly. "You know they are still grieving. And you are a constant reminder of... well. Many of our own students joined Voldemort."

Severus shivered. "Don't say his name."

"He isn't here to hear it. Severus – Albus put down his cup on the wooden table – Severus, I am sorry. I should have seen things were harder for you than I had anticipated. I will talk to the staff."

Severus opened his eyes and stared intensely at the older man. "You will do nothing of the sort. I… I do not need your help, nor do I want it."

Albus was surprised at how well the boy was holding his liquor: if he was obviously very intoxicated, he was still managing to handle the conversation without major difficulty.

"But we cannot go on like this, Severus. And you certainly will not get better if you start drinking yourself to oblivion."

Severus groaned. "I will not be the first in my family to do so."

"You are not your father, Severus. You are a very talented young man who has made bad decisions, and I will help you."

Albus tried to get a little closer to him, but Severus shook his head. " I don't want your pity", he said in a low tone. "I would have needed that… years… and years ago. You think you are such a good man- you aren't. You are… as dangerous as he is."

The headmaster looked away.

"I know I have failed you, Severus. But I have been trying-"

"THIS ISN'T ABOUT ME", Severus shouted, looking angrier than Albus had ever seen him before. So much anger in such a young face; that was not right. "Don't you s-see? Don't you see what you are doing just now? My house, Dumbledore- you do not care about them, no one does! From the very moment the sorting hat sends them to Slytherin, you all look at them with such disdain… you decide they are a lost cause."

"That is why I need you here, Severus. I know you are there for them."

But Severus continued.

"And Professor McGonagall, she said I was… picking on her students… they knew me as a student, Dumbledore, they were on Potter's side obviously- I don't see how you want me to do my job properly when my own students... know the nickname they used to call me..."

Some warmth was coming from the fireplace at last.

Albus sighed again. "I know, Severus. Time will make things easier, of that I am sure. I remember my first year as a teacher - the students were a nightmare. Or rather, I was not yet fit to teach, and this is the impression they gave me."

He worried Severus would become sick; his thin face had turned a light shade of green.

"Unlike you, I dislike… teaching… they are far from brilliant", he slurred. "And the staff, they could... they could ignore me, that would be enough, but they make me feel like a leper even though I am doing my b-best - my very best."

Albus smiled, though it was a bittersweet, regretful smile. "I know you are, Severus. And I promise, I will not let you down."

Severus looked blankly at him, trying to gather his thoughts and come up with a satisfying answer. He shook his head. "Please leave", he finally muttered. He got up hesitantly, growing paler with each step, and steadied himself against the nearest wall. "I told you… not to come in."

A few minutes later, he was sick. Albus gently held his hair as his stomach contracted painfully against the bathroom sink, his eyes closed.

"You are old enough to know you must not drink on an empty stomach, Severus," Albus said gently. "I think you have not been eating properly these past few weeks. You are skeletal."

Severus tried to stand, shaking. He felt incredibly dizzy. "I cannot eat", he mumbled - then abruptly passed out.

Albus was there to catch him. He felt his heart sink: he was so very light. He would not let Severus destroy himself. Not on his watch.

He gently put him to bed, placing him in a half-sitting position, his head turned on one side. He brushed the raven hair out of the boy's face.

"I promise you, Severus. I will listen to you."