Slow motion. Nothing felt right. Severus glanced over to his Potions shelf and rose stiffly from his bed. It was 4pm in the afternoon and it was first time that he'd gotten up today. He could feel his unused muscles protest, his joints crack.

The Potions. The bottle of Dreamless Sleep Potion was actually stuck to the wood. The cork had opened on its own under the pressure. Some liquids tended to expand after years of being off. Draught of Living Death used to be clear, but had now taken an ugly shade of misty grey. The Calming Draught had come alive again and was trying to escape the small glass bottle.

The shelf itself was sticky and dusty, but Severus did not clean it. What was the point.

Slytherins were famous for their survival instincts and for the vehemence they fought death with. For their ability to cope, to adjust, to change loyalties whenever it was convenient. But maybe Dumbledore had been right. Perhaps, we Sort too soon.

The Slytherin in the back of his head, that icy cold voice which scolded him whenever he didn't get up, didn't pay his bills, didn't fulfill even the simplest of duties was fading rapidly. Depression had taken over, swallowed him whole. Dullness, inerta, fogginess had grabbed him by the feet and pulled him down. Slowly, but a little bit more each day.

The only people who knew about his whereabouts were the parole officers. Yes, he had been cleared of most of the charges, but not all of them. Thanks to Judge Gregory Burbage, he was not allowed to leave the country and had to report to the Ministry about his doings every six months. The man he reported to, what was his name, was clearly half-Dementor.

Solemnly, Severus filled an old, grubby bowl with the Potions and cast a weak heating charm. They started to bubble and mix. With curiosity, Severus cocked his head and watched the slimy brown and ill-smelling liquid that did not deserve the label 'Potion' any more.

The voice in the back of his head started to snarl and yell abuse as usual, demanding to get a grip of himself, to stop this stupid experiment and get out and make himself useful. He owed it to the world.

With little effort, and because it was fading anyway, he silenced it. No, and Severus was completely unable to live up to his own standards. He cleared his mind for one last time, then brought the deadly brewage to his mouth and gulped it down. All of it.

His hands clung to the shelf before he fell and then there was nothing.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Professor! PROFESSOR!"

Whose voice is that? He couldn't make it out. Definitely a woman though. Lily? No, she wouldn't call him Professor.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod. Harry. Bring him upstairs. Now. Go. GO!"

Damn it. Potter was here. He was alive. NO! The stench made his eyes water and without being able to help it, his body convulsed. Bitter, dark green bile ran along his cheek, into his hair.

A baby cried upstairs.

Painfully aware of the smell, of the fact that his last shred of dignity, if he ever possessed any, had been taken from him, he quickly threw his arm up and grabbed the girl's head. He pulled her close, until hear ear nearly touched his lips, wanted to scream in it, but all he managed was a hoarse croak. "Fuck off."

He glared at her, then let go.

Tears pooling in her eyes, she shook her head and apologised. Then she cast more spells at him that his insides burn like hell, where he belonged, his stomach and bowel protest audibly and as he was about to lose control of both of them, she cast elimination spells, never stopping with her useless apologies.

"Tergeo. Scourgify." She even tried cheering charms, but those had stopped working on him a long time ago. And frankly, his body could not take any more magic.

"You'll pay for this, Granger."

She hurried over to the fire place and got something. Then came back and thrust a bezoar down his throat and held his nose shut so that he had no choice but swallow if he wanted to breathe. But he didn't want to breathe.

The baby upstairs cried again. There hadn't been any hallucinogenic Potions. Maybe the Draught of Living Death did have the tendency to go that way after years of standing around. Who knows. Who cares.

Granger shouted into the fireplace again. A few seconds later, a cup of some hot, steaming liquid was lifted to his mouth. It smelled like a cocktail of many Potions, Severus could definitely make out Anti Nausea, Pain Relieving and Calming Potions. And something else that he couldn't quite identify.

His stomach wanted to revolt again.

"Take it. It will make you feel better. Please."

He opened his eyes to see the girl, his former student. Granger looked frantic, her frizzy hair flying around wildly and the widened brown eyes were full of worry, full of pity. He looked away, grabbed the cup from her. He wasn't going to be fed. Against his will, driven by that damn survival instinct, he gulped the concoction down in one go.

The nausea, the pain, the fogginess disappeared after only seconds. A strange sensation of reality washed over him, something he hadn't experienced in years. His previously blurry vision cleared and he felt like someone had thrown him out of a black and white movie and into real life.

With less effort than it taken him for a long time, he sat up and looked down onto his robes. He was utterly disgusted with himself.

"Excuse me," he managed to croak before he disappeared into the bathroom. Her eyes followed him, he could feel them in the back of his neck.

He turned the shower on and stood there for ages, letting the scolding hot water finish the job of bringing him back to his senses. When he was finished, new robes appeared right in front of him. Calmly, he dressed himself, then cast a daring look into the mirror. Only to punch it until it shattered. Good riddance.

Someone walked downstairs and into the living room. There was talking. Cleaning and tidying spells. He cringed when he remembered what the house had looked like upon their entrance. And how on earth did they get in here? Spinner's End was more secure now than it had ever been during Voldemort's time. Now they whispered.

He took a deep breath and decided he couldn't stay in the bathroom forever. He could banish them from his house. Where was his wand? Not that it could do much damage anyway. The Ministry had secured it after he walked out of St Mungo's six years ago.

Feeling self-conscious and terribly exposed, he stalked over to the sofa and sat down. They'd even lit a fire. Two pairs of eyes were regarding him suspiciously.

Granger rose, explained that she had to go an organise something and stepped into the fireplace. She cast a doubting look to Potter, who nodded in agreement and mumbled something about being fine. Then Granger disappeared. Good for her not to use his floo powder, or she would have ended up in ten fireplaces at once.

He glared at Potter, who was cradling a newborn baby in his arms. This house was not a good place for infants.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, surprised that his voice did actually work, after not having been used for a while. After those Potions...

The young man looked healthier and better cared for than Severus had ever seen him. The uncoordinated, insecure and lanky boy was replaced by confident and content grown-up.

"I just felt the urge go and look for you. It was instinct. I brought Albus Severus because... well... I wanted to ask you if you want to become his Godfather. And I needed to give Ginny a break, she is shattered. I'm... glad we found you."

I'm not, he thought.

Severus snorted and shook his head. It felt utterly surreal to him that he was sitting in his own Living Room with Harry Potter whose son was named after him, Merlin knew why, having a conversation after he'd just tried to... He shrugged the thoughts off, thankful that Potter had as much tact not to mention it.

Potter walked over to him, sat down right next to him. Close, too close. Without a warning, he handed over the infant and said: "Look."

Severus, who felt awkward and insecure around little ones, gazed down at the infant. The smell from the baby's head was a welcome change to the stench he still felt tingling in his nose. The boy had Lily's high cheekbones and her pointy chin.

Emerald eyes, dazzling and overly large, opened and looked at him. Into him. Lily's eyes had often looked at him with doubt and indifference, Potter's with resentment and hatred. Those eyes held nothing but trust and sincere interest. A single tear dropped on the baby's forehead and when he wanted to wipe it away, annoyed at his own sentimentality and softness, the tiny boy grabbed his finger and didn't let go.

The omniscient eyes closed and a small smile appeared on the tiny face and he fell asleep.

Severus tried to disappear behind his hair and master his breathing, but he did not succeed. Potter's hand was on his shoulder and he didn't want to jerk it away in case he woke the boy.

"You'll be alright... I'm sorry we couldn't find you sooner. There were all sorts of protections... The Ministry... We'll take you to another hospital and you can -" Potter stopped babbling when the baby made a small noise, as if telling him to shut up.