Chapter 35
Besides paperwork and tartan, there was one thing in abundance in Minerva’s rooms, and it was alcohol.
She hadn’t had a drink in nearly a year. She had sworn off of it when Severus stole control of the school from her. Though there was nothing she had wanted more than a way to numb the pain that the school year brought, she knew she had to keep a clear head if she wanted to protect her students.
She was under no such constraints now.
The students were gone until at least September, the repair crews wouldn’t begin arriving for another two days, the school was empty and she had done more than anyone could have expected her to. There was no reason to abstain any longer.
Except, as she reached for her best and oldest bottle of firewhiskey she hesitated. She had been down this road before and she had not liked where it led. After her husband died, still during the war against Grindelwald, she had begun a bad habit of drinking. When the war ended it had become so much worse. That summer she had seen no reason to keep a clear head, no reason to want to be any more aware than she was after a whole bottle of the strongest stuff she could find in Hogsmeade. The consequences had been… unpleasant to say the least.
So she put down the glass in her hand. She turned away from the bottle on the mantle in front of her. This wasn't a path she should tread again, and she knew that very well. It was too soon, the timing was bad. The world around her and within her was in too much disarray, there was too much disorder and brokenness still to be repaired and restructured. She did need to keep a clear head for now.
When the world was good again she would go into Hogsmeade and take advantage of the Headteacher’s discount at the Three Broomsticks, or possibly even pay a call on Aberforth at the Hog’s Head, though they were not always on the best of terms.
Yes. When the pieces of life had been put back into place then she would go with Filius and Pomona on a Friday evening after dinner and have Rosmerta cut her off at four.
When all was well she would once again have a drink at her desk late in the evening, still working but looking for an excuse to stop. Being half-tipsy is a good excuse to put off reviewing the school budget until morning.
But as it was, her alone in an empty castle with enough whisky for a half-giant to drink themselves to sleep, and in her present state, it was best to continue that hold out. She turned away from the mantle, leaving the glass and bottle there, and disapparated to her summer house.
The usual relief washed over her, the feeling of escaping the pressing pains of the school, a wave of tiredness came with it. That was an impulse she felt no guilt giving in to.