With Ron and Hermione angry with him, Harry was finding it easier to spend time alone. His attitude was terrible all around, and he'd been in detention frequently for mouthing off to his professors. The only person who didn't seem to get it when Harry openly mocked him was Lockhart, his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. It was just plain fun to cause trouble, and it was all new to Harry. Telling people off and ignoring the rules was better than he'd expected.

After enjoying some Firewhiskey in the dorm, Harry slipped out of the Tower with his invisibility cloak. He'd never wandered around the castle while drunk, and it wasn't easy to climb up and down the stairs without tripping. He decided to take a little rest and slid down onto the floor, sitting with his legs out in front of him. It was dark and he found it impossible to keep his eyes open. At first it was a game, and he fought his heavy eyelids, trying to focus on a point in front of him. The cloak had fallen off, but Harry didn't realize it. He was passing out, drunk, with half of his body visible and the other half invisible. In minutes he was fast asleep.

Snape was patrolling the hallways and he slowed his pace, listening to the noise he was coming up on. It sounded like....snoring. He cast lumos and continued slowly down the hallway. Frowning, he looked down at a sleeping Harry Potter, invisibility cloak strewn around the boy's small body. Snape reached down and snatched the cloak off of Harry in one smooth motion, but Harry didn't budge. Leaning in toward Harry's face, Snape caught the strong scent of Firewhiskey. The golden boy was drunk. Fantastic. Before he woke Potter he looked down at the boy and wondered about Harry's state of mind. His behavior had been extremely erratic lately, and had been discussed at many staff meetings. Personally, Snape thought Potter had reached a point where someone had to come in and rein in his insolent behavior. If it were up to him, he'd take on that role and teach him some respect. He shook his head to wipe that thought away. Take care of Potter's behavioral problems? No, that task could fall to some other fool.

Snape slowly moved his face within inches of Harry's and screamed, "Potter! Wake up!"

Harry was startled and upon waking felt quite ill. He turned away and nearly gagged.

"I feel like I'm going to die," he said, slurring.

Snape towered over Harry, who was still on the floor, his head bobbing to the side.

"Well, well, Potter," Snape sneered at Harry. "Look at me!"

Harry struggled to bring his eyes up to Snape's, and found that he was dizzy, and the longer he stared at Snape's face, the worse he felt.

Snape grabbed Harry's chin roughly and brought it up to meet his gaze. "I see you've employed some excellent decision making skills this evening." Harry thought the thick sarcasm actually seemed funny in the moment. He sniggered for just a second before Snape grabbed his face a little harder.

"Ow!" Harry cried out. "Bloody hell, I'm going to have bruises!"

"Stop speaking, Potter, and stand up." Snape grabbed Harry's wrist and pulled him up from the floor. Harry noticed his invisibility cloak in Snape's hand and reached for it. Snape quickly stuck it into a pocket in his robes. He shook his head at Harry and waggled his finger as one would do to a toddler.

"It's mine!" Harry yelled, still slurring a bit.

"Oh, I believe I'll hang on to it, Potter," drawled Snape. "I daresay you've forfeited the privilege of keeping the cloak in your possession."

"No!" Harry was sobering up a little, and his anger was building. "I want it back! It's my bloody cloak!"

"Mind your manners, Potter." Snape moved closer to Harry. "You'll spend a week with me in detention for being out after curfew, another week for being intoxicated, and another week for your disrespect."

Snape took Harry by the wrist and dragged him off. Harry found himself not only struggling to keep up with Snape's pace, but also trying not to trip on the stairs while sobering up. It seemed like an eternity before they reached Gryffindor Tower, and Snape watched as Harry clambered through the portrait hole.

"I'll see you tomorrow night, Potter, in my office, directly after dinner," he yelled to Harry.

As he considered the situation, the Fat Lady startled Snape into awareness by asking if he was planning to stand there all night. He turned on his heels and headed off toward the dungeons. He wasn't sure what Potter was playing at this term. While he'd never been a model student, or a respectful one, his irresponsibility and cheek had reached absurd proportions. Something had to be done, because after years of teaching, one learns when a child needs an adult to take over and intervene before the child does something to harm themselves or others. Snape was relieved to know that no one would ever force that role on him. Surely Dumbledore wouldn't choose to put poor Harry under the guidance of his hated Potions professor. Perhaps McGonagall could get through to the boy.

Snape paused once he'd returned to his office and thought about the situation. There was more to this than a brooding, disrespectful pre-teen. Snape knew from his own youth that sometimes there's a breaking point, and once reached, it's hard to pull your life back together. Is this where Potter was heading? Was it possible that the golden boy was on track to destroy his life? He didn't want to think any more about Potter at the moment. It was time for him to have a drink. A single malt scotch sounded appealing. He'd have time the next evening to interrogate Potter about whatever the hell was going on with him.