Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Delirium Tremens ❯ Chapter Two ( Chapter 2 )

Severus slumped back into his armchair, guzzling the dregs of his anti-intoxicant potion. The remainder of his headache withered and died, and when he opened his eyes, the firelight no longer hurt.

He eyed the fine bottle of Old Ogden's that sat atop the mantle, and he grimaced. Never again. Not if it made him do such repulsive things. He crossed to the fireplace, determined to toss the whole bottle in, and consequences - such as singing his eyebrows - be damned.

He had just leaned toward the fire, bottle in hand, when a face appeared. He stumbled, then, into his own coffee table, dropping the bottle. It shattered, golden liquid splashing everywhere and glass tinkling.

“Lupin! What gives you the nerve to pop your head into my fireplace unannounced?” He sat down - hard - atop the table, still clutching the goblet in one trembling fist.

Lupin calmly wiped a smear of whiskey from his cheek. “Give you a fright, did I? Terribly sorry. But I just wanted to look in on you, Severus,” he said with a chuckle, damn the man.

Severus spluttered, appalled, and told him quite bluntly, “I'm in no mood to chat with you, Lupin, so if you would kindly remove yourself…”

“No, no, Severus, I wanted to talk to you about, erm, last night. To apologize, too, for giving you such a scare this morning. You were awfully drunk, but I thought—”

“You thought what?” Severus snapped. “Thought you could take advantage of me?” Oh, the nerve of some people. Severus wondered, vaguely, why he had ever changed sides. At least the Death Eaters were fairly honest in their manipulative scheming.

“I did not take advantage! Or if I did, it was because I was rather drunk, too, and you threw yourself at me. I simply thought it was lowered inhibitions and—”

“And? I did not throw myself at you! Like I would offer myself to a mangy, flea-bitten, poorly-bred werewolf. Or to you at all, fleas notwithstanding! You had to have put something in my drink; I know you've been lusting, werewolf, I see the way you look at me!” Severus' voice had gone into an octave he should not have been able to attain. That bastard Lupin was driving him batty.

“Oh, good God, Severus! You're being ridiculous. Are you actually accusing me of date-raping—”

“Yes! I was likely out cold by the time you came around with your rampant werewolf hormones!”

“That is the stupidest… You threw yourself—”

“Yes, yes, tell yourself what you will, werewolf—”

“Would you let me finish a sentence, already?” Lupin snapped at him. The beast was losing his composure. “You were begging for my—”

Severus had clearly struck a nerve; he should have known Lupin would stoop so low. “You're disgusting, you know that? Aren't Gryffindors supposed to be upstanding—”

“Oh, I never—”

So Lupin was determined to fight this, was he? Severus came undone, surely. “Date-raped me? Yes, you did! How else would I have wound up in your bed?”

“You came—”

“Oh, I'd say you're the one who—”

“Would you stop that?! I was trying to—”

“Get into my trousers, I know! Rapist!” And with that, Severus hurled the goblet. It made a delightful smack and crunch when it hit Lupin, and the man's face disappeared from Severus' fireplace. A moment later, the connection went out.

Severus stood shakily, plucking his wand out to clean up the mess of the bottle, and when he moved back to his armchair, he realized that his goblet had gone through the fire with Lupin's head. Hmph. A rapist and a thief. Bloody Gryffindors.