Severitus fic where Snape catches Harry drinking in the Gryffindor Tower. Harry has absolutely zero clue how Fred and George had managed to sneak various bottles of firewhiskey and dragon barrel brandy into Hogwarts, much less the gryffindor tower, which had a multitude of different charms on the entrances to not allow the presence of alcohol (which Hermione reminded everyone about more than once). There were also a few bottles and boxes that he didn’t recognize, which made him all the more confused. The twins refused to explain but sat proudly in front of a table covered in the bottles, already uncorking a few of them. Winter break was fast approaching so there really weren’t too many people in the tower, but enough that most of the bottles would probably be empty by the end of the night.
Seamus and Dean wasted no time in picking up whatever item was closest to them and transfiguring it into a cup for them to drink out of, giving themselves a hearty pour. Harry sat back with Ron and Hermione and laughed as Dean sputtered and coughed after drinking from his cup of firewhiskey. Neville nursed a cup and nervously sipped at it with a grimace permanently on his face, not long after he was practically begging Hermione to conjure up a cup of water for him, to which she patted his back pitifully and pulled out her wand. Fred and George quickly pulled Ron into the fray while Hermione was distracted, pressing a box of chocolate liqueurs into his hands.
Ron quickly popped one into his mouth as Hermione turned around, humming in surprise before shoving in a few more as she quickly approached them. He offered her the box as he finished off the ones he was eating, smiling nervously at her.
“Ronald Weasley, are you mad?” She exclaimed, pushing aside the box and smacking him on the arm.
“It’s fiiiine ‘Mione.” He laughed, trying to offer her the box again.
Hermione scoffed and turned, huffing as she threw herself down onto the couch. Ron and Harry turned to each other and laughed silently, trying their hardest to not be seen by her. Ron snickered and offered the box out to Harry, slightly swaying where he stood.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten so many at once.” Ron stammered, laughing again.
Harry stared at the box and contemplated. He really did want to try the chocolates, maybe not as many as Ron had eaten, but try them at least. But he also knew that the consequences would be extreme if they were caught, which was likely. He squinted at the box as if it had personally offended him.
“Harry’s scared of getting in trouble with his daaaad.” Fred and George teased in tandem.
Harry flushed and shook his head, stammering quietly.
“I think it’s sweet, Harry, the fact that you care so much about his approval.” Hermione chimed in, noting that she would rather keep watch of all of them instead of stewing on the couch as she came up beside him.
“I do not care about Snapes approval.” He argues quietly, staring at the floor to try and hide the red on his cheeks.
With a sudden determination, Harry grabbed one of the chocolates and popped it into his mouth, quickly grabbing another once he finished. He ate them with a grimace on his face, the chocolate barely helping with the burning taste of alcohol. Everyone around him cheered and laughed, filling their own glasses again.
Harry hoped that the blush on his face was gone by now, but the truth was, he really did care about getting Snapes approval. Like a lot. They had gotten extremely close over the summer (Snape even took care of him when he was sick!) after Snape was forced to take care of him over the break when it was decided Little Whinging wasn’t safe for Harry. He half regretted eating the chocolates, the thought of Snapes angry face made his stomach squeeze. But the other half of him was happy, he was so stressed all of the time about everything going on in the world, it was nice to feel like a normal teenager every once in a while.
It only took about an hour and a half for there to be a table covered in empty chocolate boxes and empty bottles. Harry and Ron had eaten most of the chocolates as they found it was the most pleasant way, laughing whenever Dean or Seamus choked or gagged on their choice of drink. They even convinced Hermione to take a small nibble of one of the chocolates, but she was too nervous to finish it, going on about McGonagall walking in and catching them. Neville had even loosened up some, snacking on a few chocolates whenever he could steal one away from Ron, still nursing his water just incase.
Harry and Ron had taken a break as insisted by Hermione, both of them sipping from cups of water, just watching everyone. They were still laughing way harder than they should have at everything, and their cheeks were red and warm, the chocolate liqueur sitting comfortably in their stomachs and warming them up from the inside out.
His stomach didn’t feel comfortable or warm when he heard the entrance to the Gryffindor Tower opening up, the Fat Lady jeering and laughing as she swung in. McGonagall entered with a horrified but knowing look on her face, her eyes quickly seeking out the empty bottles and shaking her head as Ron stumbled and fell back off the couch he was sitting on. Fred and George snickered quietly to themselves while Hermione looked like she wanted to cry, her hands wringing together in her lap.
“All of you!” McGonagall cried out, flicking her wand and ridding the room of the rest of the bottles. “To Madam Pomfreys office, now.”
There was a line of stumbling gryffindors following McGonagall down the hallways, heading straight for the infirmary as McGonagall complained out loud to herself. Hermione cried into Ron’s shoulder, quietly berating herself for participating and not just going straight to bed.
When they got to the entrance of the infirmary Madam Pomfrey was waiting outside and shaking her head in disappointment as Seamus and Dean stumbled over to her. They got sent in pairs, Seamus and Dean going in first. When they came out they were both sipping on cups of water, clutching their heads to try and minimize their headaches.
“Made us eat a Bezoar, she did.” Seamus spoke up when everyone asked. “Then a headache-clearing potion, since the Bezoar gave us one hell of a hangover.”
“The Bezoar didn’t give you a hangover, Seamus. It just sped up the effects of all the alcohol you drank,” Hermione explained. “Which I’m sure you know… tends to induce a hangover one way or another.”
Ron groaned quietly. “Why bring us to the infirmary if we’re still gonna be hungover?” He grumbled. “At least just let us sleep it off.”
By the time it was Ron and Harry’s turn in the infirmary, they were basically sober, not that they were ever too intoxicated.
“Mr. Potter,” McGonagall called out just before they were about to step in. “I believe that someone is here to see you.”
Harry turned slowly with a grimace on his face, staring at the ground with a growing pit in his stomach. He could see a shadow behind McGonagall who was wearing black slippers and long black sleep robes. Ron patted him on the back before walking into the infirmary, wishing him luck quietly.
“Don’t think this gets you out of detention with me, Mr. Potter!” McGonagall called out as a hand gripped the back of Harry’s collar and began marching him toward the dungeons.
“Professor I,” Harry began, stammering for an excuse.
“Don’t start, Potter. I will deal with you once we are down in the dungeons.” Snapes voice was thick with sleep, which made Harry feel even worse about what was happening, having woken him up from sleep in the middle of the night.
“Where are we going, sir? It’s too late to clean the potions room right now… right?” He sure hoped he wasn’t going to have to scrub dirty cauldrons so late at night.
“Yes, Potter, it is far too late for such a punishment.” He muttered. “Perhaps tomorrow, though.”
Harry looked around, rather confused, as Snape stopped them in the long hallway that led to the potions room. He wasn’t sure where Snape was bringing him, and just as he opened his mouth to ask Snape brought up his wand and pointed it at the wall. He made a slow crossing motion as he muttered an incantation, quiet enough that Harry couldn’t hear it. Harry’s mouth fell open as the bricks started opening up to reveal a small living area, it was dark with only a single light on.
“Professor, is this?” Harry questioned, stepping in after Snape, removing his shoes by the door after it closed.
“Where I live, yes.” Snape answered quietly, walking around to grab a pillow and blanket from a closet in the corner, leaving them on the couch.
“I’m sorry, Professor, really.” Harry finally blurted out, feeling all the tension from the walk down was making his shoulders hurt. “I shouldn’t have joined them, I know! I don’t know why I did.” He rambled.
“Potter…” Snape sighed, rubbing at his forehead with his knuckles, it looked like he was trying to stave off a headache.
“I just wanted,” He continued, feeling more and more frantic. “I just wanted to have fun! I wanted to do something normal for once, to feel normal.”
He expected Snape to yell at him, to tell him that they were at war and his personal feelings didn’t matter, that he wasn’t normal, he was the boy who lived and he was destined to kill Voldemort. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, another one on the back of his head, slowly bringing him into a slightly awkward hug.
“You need to calm down Harry.” Snape murmured quietly to him, who didn’t even realize that his breath was erratic, and embarrassingly enough, his eyes were filling with tears. Harry laid his head on Snapes shoulder and nodded his head, sniffling. “I’m… not angry with you.”
“You’re not?” He said wetly, sniffling again.
“No, not quite.” He held Harry closer, which he appreciated. “When I was in Hogwarts,” he began hesitantly. “I did something quite similar to what you did tonight.”
It was an extremely rare occurrence for Snape to talk about anything personal, especially something about his childhood, so Harry listened closely, quickly getting his breathing under control.
“It was my fifth year, just before Winter break, and one of the muggle kids somehow snuck in a few bottles that they had snatched from their parents. I joined them, stupidly, and we were, of course, caught by our house master.” He continued, his voice was stunted and he kept cutting himself off. “They sent letters home to our families, and when I returned home for break, my father was.” He hesitated, trying to find the words. “Not quite so happy about it.”
Harry knew a little about Snapes father from the little bits he’s shared, picking up on the dark context clues that came with each story. He winced as he thought about young Snape returning home, knowing what was bound to happen when he stepped inside. He frowned and hugged his professor tighter.
“I told myself,” he paused, sounding almost a little scared. He gently let go of Harry, gesturing for him to sit on the couch as Snape paced the floors. “I told myself that I wouldn’t have any children,” He glanced at Harry. “For I was worried I would turn out like my Father.” He admitted. He sighed as he stopped pacing, falling back into a large cushioned chair with a high back, closing his eyes for a second.
“I’m rambling.” Snape ended the conversation, finally unable to deal with the discomfort of opening up about anything. “But no, Harry, I am not angry with you. I understand the want for teenaged idiocy.”
“Does this mean I’m not in trouble?” He sleepily rubbed at his eyes, exhausted from the late hours and from crying.
“Oh, no.” Snape laughed quietly to himself. “You are most certainly still in trouble. I believe there was quite the sticky accident made by one of your little friends that you would find so much joy in cleaning up.”
Harry sighed but understood. He finally gave himself a second to look around the space, there was a small light on in the corner and Snape had lit the fireplace when they walked in. There was a wall that was just covered in bookshelves, most of the spaces filled already, either by books or small knick knacks that pulled the room together. The space was pretty clean, aside from random piles of books and parchment that were strewn around. There was also a kitchen area and another room, what he assumed was Snapes bedroom, that he couldn’t quite see from where he was sitting.
Snape stood up as he yawned, walking towards his bedroom with a quiet goodnight. Harry stood up in confusion, calling out to him.
“Wait, professor. Aren’t I going back to the Gryffindor tower?” He questioned.
“I am far too tired to walk you back so late, Harry.” He stopped in his tracks to turn back to Harry as he spoke. “That is, of course, if you’re comfortable sleeping within my living quarters.” He tacked on awkwardly.
“I am! You don’t have to walk me back, it’s okay. But, am I even allowed in here? Since I’m a student and all.” He didn’t want Snape to get in trouble for letting him sleep over, seeing as it was his fault he had to be brought here in the first place.
“Well, yes, technically Professors living quarters are restricted from student access. But,” he paused, stepping closer to his room. “Family is allowed”
Snape quickly walked into his room, shutting the door behind him and leaving Harry alone in the living room with his jaw on the ground. After a few seconds he sat back down on the sofa, grabbing the pillow and blanket that were placed there for him. He laid down and closed his eyes but couldn’t keep his mind from wandering. He smiled as he thought back to Snapes words, family.
It took Harry a while to fall asleep, but he was comfortable, sleeping in front of the fireplace on a comfy sofa, with Snape just down the hall. Harry realized with a smile on his face that he’s never felt safer as he finally fell asleep.
