Severus Snape if life treated him kinder

1: I'm depressed, not drunk

I'm not drunk.

I am absolutely sober.

I am not drunk.

Three sentences his brain scanned over and over again as he stumbled into his head quarters, vision blurry, struggling to find the bed, or the couch, whichever was first.

Through the glazed lenses that covered his pupils he saw a figure. Somebody, a person, walking toward him. His body froze, his mind still reviewing the three sentences like a lifeline.

"I- am not sober DRUNK!" He screeched at the figure, his mouth dry. The person huffed, leading him to the couch. They lay a blanket over him as he lay there, motionless, trying to figure who was infront of him.

The person sat beside him, soothingly rubbing his shoulders while speaking incoherently to him. He focused on the voice. The shrill but calmness, the cold but warmth... Minerva? His eyes blinked open and he struggled but lifted his body upward until he was leaning against the couch.

"Minn- Minnnie?" His dry throat caught the words like a fishhook and a starving bass. His vision was slowly becoming steadier and he could eventually make out the green and gray robes and the large black hat sitting on the couch, her gray hair in a bun. 

"Severus." She replied in response, short and calmly. She hummed, setting her hat onto the coffee table and replacing the blanket over him with a weighted one, setting a few pillows upward behind his head and motioning him to lay down.

His wrinkled face twisted shamefully and he turned away, embarrassed. "I'm sorry," but before he could say much more, she cut him off with a hush. "If you're sorry, you'll stay sober from now on." We're the last words he heard before his vision cut out and his body slumped into the warmth of the couch and the weighted comfort of the blanket that lay heavy on his body.