Firewisky was probably a bad idea

"Can I try?"

If you had told Harry a few years ago that he'd be sat in the Hogwarts kitchens drinking Firewhisky with Severus Snape at eighteen, he'd have told you that you'd gone mad. He'd have said that Snape hated him and he hated Snape. He'd have said that Snape was a greasy bastard who wanted nothing more than to terrorise his students (Harry especially) simply for the fun of it. That Snape would never be caught dead doing such a thing and more than likely would have taken the time to torture Harry in detentions for the entire year.

Now however the idea seemed entirely plausible and actually made a lot of sense.

When Harry had ventured out of his dormitory on a cold night in late November, he hadn't expected to find Snape half drunk in the kitchen's.

After a particularly bad nightmare filled with screams, tears and a lot of flashing green light, Harry had decided to escape his dormitory to the kitchen's for a midnight snack.

Usually after a nightmare he would go to the Astronomy Tower. Despite the bad memories of the place, being able to look aver the Hogwart's grounds gave him an oddly calm but numb feeling.

Tonight however he was feeling more sporadic and felt as if he needed to do something. He didn't know what that something he needed to do was, but had decided that heading down to the kitchen's for food should be satisfying enough.

When he got there, invisibility cloak firmly wrapped around him, he was taken aback at the sight of Snape.

Nobody else was in here, the house elves all having turned in for the night. Nobody except Snape.

He was just sitting there. Hunched over the table, head against the wooden surface. His hands were in front of him, clutching onto an almost empty bottle of Firewisky as if it was his life line.

Harry wasn't sure if the man was even awake. He was slouched in such a way that suggested unconsciousness.

Harry had never seen him like this.

Taking a slow step forwards, Harry carefully let the cloak fall from his shoulders. It pooled into a puddle of silver silk at his feet.

"Professor." He spoke timidly, barely above a whisper.

Snape must have heard him though as his head snapped up. The movement was slower than usual but the action however still seemed to make the man dizzy. Realising the bottle with one hand he gripped the edge of the table as if about to topple over. He stared blinking at Harry for a couple of seconds, he looked a little dazed. For a moment Harry wondered if Snape even knew where he was or what was going on.

"Potter." He croaked out. His voice was raw and scratchy as if he had been crying. "What you gr-oing?" His words came out slurred.

They lacked the harsh vitriol of malice it would have had in the past. Although to be fair on the rare occasions Snape talked to him these days there seemed to be no feeling whatsoever behind any of his words. And in this case it might just be the alcohol.

"I was hungry." He replied, because what was he supposed to say.

Oh I'm feeling like I've been wondering around aimlessly since the war. Not doing anything or being able to feel anything, just sitting here not knowing what to do with my life. Feeling completely empty that I'm practically a ghost and felt like I needed to change something but I'm too scared to actually do anything about it so I came to the kitchen's instead.

No. So instead he went with the easy version. He always goes with the easy version. "Thought I'd get something to eat."

Snape made a small noise from the back of his throat but didn't reply.

They stared at each other for a few moments. Harry searching for something, though he didn't know what and Snape looking as if he wasn't actually seeing him.

Harry swallowed before speaking "Can I try?"

Snape let out a noise that sounded like a hiccup. "Tcrry what?"

"The drink." Harry said nodding towards the bottle still clutched in Snape's hand.

Snape studied the glass bottle in front of him minute before he realised what Harry had said.

If this was a normal night Harry was sure that Snape would deny him immediately, telling him to go back to bed and taking house points.

This was not a normal night however. Snape was drunk. Nothing about this situation was normal.

"Sure." "Tates hrorrible n-don't know why rink it." Snape said, sliding the bottle over the table. It was more of a toss actually and the bottle would have definitely fell off the table if Harry hadn't dashed forward to grab it.

He caught it by the neck, it was slightly cold under his fingers.

He lifted the bottle to his lips, letting the liquid fall from the glass and down his throat. It burned slightly and went straight to his stomach dropping like a stone. Snape was right, it did taste awful but it left him with a sort of full feeling as it settled in his stomach.

He lowered the bottle. Setting it down on the table and letting his fingers trail down the side until his hand had wrapped around the body of it. The glass was warm from where Snape had been holding it a moment prior.

He looked back at Snape. The man was watching him, eyes more focused than they were before. Harry raised the bottle again, eyes never leaving Snape as he drank.