Written for Web (WritingBlock) for the November Monthly One-Shot Exchange (Severus & Lucius platonic friendship, ballet!au, angst)

Written for Hogwarts Assignment 9 (Divination - write about someone with an alcohol/gambling addiction, bottle of wine)

Written for the Ultimate Writer Challenge (write and AU of your choice)

We All Fall Down

The stage lights were blinding. Lucius couldn't see a damn thing as the producer and dance instructor, Tom Riddle, barked orders from below. His stomach churned, his head swaying. He really shouldn't have come to work today.

"Allegro, Malfoy!" Tom cried. "What do you call that?"

Suddenly, the music to the Nutcracker stopped, the lights dimmed and Lucius was staring into the face of his furious boss.

He felt like he was going to vomit.

"What are you doing, Lucius?" Tom said. "And don't say dancing. That was not dancing."

"Sorry, Tom," Lucius said, resisting the urge to bow. Tom had that effect on people - many people had left the company because of it. "I -"

"Had a late night, obviously," Tom snapped. He shook his head, turning from the stage.

The shame that filled Lucius was overwhelming. Head down, shows dragging against the wooden stage, he took his place, ready to start. But the music never came.

"Lucius!"

Lucius turned. Severus was staring at him from the side stage, beckoning him over. Looking back at Tom, who still had his back to them, Lucius strode over.

"We're done," Severus said.

"What?"

"We're done for today. You're done." Severus indicated the empty audience. "His back to you means we're done."

Lucius turned once again to the moody director. Tom had given no indication he planned to resume today's rehearsal, nor was Lucius feeling like it. He nodded and departed the stage.

They had three days before opening night and for the first time in his career, Lucius felt unprepared. By now, it should have been dress rehearsals - make-up, costumes, the lot - yet it felt as if he still didn't know the dance. How many times had he performed the Nutcracker? Countless times over his twenty-five years as a professional. He should be able to do this with his eyes closed.

Severus didn't say a word as he accompanied Lucius back to the dressing room. There was nothing to say, really. Severus was in charge of lighting. All he had to do was make sure he pressed the right buttons on the night. If he made a mistake, the audience wouldn't even notice. But if Lucius forgot the steps…

Lucius collapsed into the chair by the dressing table, running his fingers over his face. The past few months had been tough. The hours as a performer were crazy and it had become too much for Narcissa. He had been spending all of his time with the company and not with her or their son, Draco. She had left him.

Then Lucius had lost his house too because Tom believed in other repayments that didn't involve money. He seemed to believe that loyalty to 'the best director in England' was enough payment and buying them dinner every late night. Well, loyalty and dinner didn't pay for a house that had been in his family for one hundred years.

So now Lucius was a divorced homeless man surviving from the sheer generosity of Severus Snape and the man's couch.

"Not a good day?" Severus asked, his dark eyes studying Lucius closely.

"Not a good month," Lucius answered.

Severus nodded. He'd been there through all of Lucius hard times, even before the last month had occurred. They'd been friends since their school days. "Do you need help?"

"You've helped enough, haven't you?" Lucius said. "By giving me a place to sleep and sharing your food from your other job."

"I was just asking." Severus moved to the door, his hand resting on the knob. "Are you coming?"

Lucius looked up then shook his head. "No, I think I'll just stay here for a few moments longer. I'll see you at home."

Severus nodded, leaving Lucius alone in the changing room. Lucius waited a good two minutes to ensure his friend wasn't coming back before he dug into his bag and pulled out a half-drunk bottle of the cheap whisky that Narcissa had given him two Christmases ago. Firewhisky. Its taste matched its price, yet it stopped Lucius from feeling.

Last night he'd drunk through ten butterbeers, this morning the first half of the bottle - and between himself and himself, the real reason he'd underperformed at the practice today. Hidden within the cupboards of dressing room were two more bottles of wine Tom had given all staff as 'payment'.

Glancing once more at the door to make sure no one was coming through, Lucius opened the bottle and drank deeply. It tasted foul and he gagged, but even as it burned his throat, he took another large swig.

Two months ago he'd been the happiest man alive, and now he was ... he stared at his sunken eyes and his pale face in the mirror. He wasn't the Lucius Malfoy who'd once stolen the show of every performance the Hogwarts Ballet Company performed. He wasn't the Lucius Malfoy that was the sought after performer in the whole of England. He didn't know where the old Lucius was and he didn't know the man who stared back at him.

Lucius drank again, this time spluttering at the horrid taste of the Firewhisky. He knew he couldn't stop it, so why not drink himself into oblivion to take the shock away when Tom told him he was no longer needed?

…

"Lucius."

Lucius stirred, squinting through the bright light that burned through his eyes. "Argh!"

"Lucius!" Something cool splashed his face. Water. "Get up. Sit up."

He was forced into a sitting position by strong hands. A wave of nausea hit him.

"What -"

"What happened last night?"

Lucius opened his eyes fully. He was still in the dressing room, but on the floor. A shattered bottle of Firewhisky lay beside him. What had happened last night?

"Did you sleep here?"

Lucius looked up at the voice. Severus. His dear friend was staring at him with grave concern in his eyes. Severus, who seemed unconcerned by humanity in general, looked worried.

"I… must have." Lucius rubbed at his eyes. He didn't remember much of what had happened, or how he'd ended up on the floor. However, the smashed bottle beside him gave him a fair idea.

Severus' eyes also drifted to the bottle. He said nothing, but his look was enough. He left Lucius to get himself to his feet and began cleaning up the shattered glass. Lucius stumbled to the chair he remembered being seated in last night, clutching at the sudden pangs of a headache. "Ouch."

"Well, that's what happens when you drink yourself into unconsciousness," Severus said drily. "Where'd you get it from?"

Lucius didn't need to ask what he was talking about. "Had it in my bag. It was a one off," he added quickly before his friend could pry further. "I was feeling rubbish after last night."

It was obvious Severus didn't believe him, but to Lucius' relief, he chose not to push the matter.

Lucius closed his eyes. This had been a wake up call for him. He rarely saw Draco as it was, and if Narcissa heard of this incident, he'd be lucky to see his son again. No, this was the last straw, the last bottle.

"Thanks," he mumbled as Severus put the bottle shards into the bin beside him.

…

"For goodness sake, Lucius, you look as if you've not slept in three years. To the left, you great oaf." Tom paced the first row seats, head bowed and hands clasped behind his back. "Perhaps you need to return to school to learn your left from right?"

Lucius glanced to the side of the stage where Severus watched on, concerned. The day's practice had began how the last one had ended, but with the addition of a throbbing headache.

"Sorry," he mumbled, moving to the left of stage where Tom had wanted him.

Tom stopped pacing, looking up at Lucius with obvious frustration. "Are you ready? You're the star of this show, and if you're not -"

"I'm ready," Lucius said, taking his position. "Play the music."

Tom waved a hand in the general vicinity of Alecto Carrow, the one in control of sound, and The Final Waltz began to play. Lucius moved from left to right smoothly. He got every step and he saw Tom's head nodding faster as he mastered the allegro for the first time in weeks.

Then, without warning, everything spun in front of him. He couldn't focus on anything and his feet became tangled. The crash of his body hitting the floor, the music continuing and the outraged cursing of Tom blurred into one as his world once again went black.

He woke to Severus and Tom standing over him. He was still on the stage.

"What was that, Lucius?" Tom demanded, not even bothering to ask if he was okay.

"Dizzy," Lucius muttered.

"Are you sick?"

"No."

"Then why are you dizzy?"

"I'm not sure." This time, Lucius helped himself into a sitting position.

Tom threw his hands in the air, turning away. "We only have three more practices before the full dress rehearsal, Lucius, and you can't even do the most basic of steps. I can't have this in my show. If you're not right by tomorrow, consider yourself replaced." He walked away, barking orders for Bellatrix Lestrange to come to the stage for her part.

Severus lifted Lucius to his feet and helped him from the stage. "Come on," he said, yanking hard on Lucius' arms. "This time, I'm taking you home."

...

His life was miserable. His marriage was over, he rarely saw Draco and he was about to be fired from the one show he knew he could do. Despite his promise to himself, the bottle of wine Crabbe had sent to wish him luck for the show was all too tempting. He stared at the wrapped package on his dressing table, the card already opened. The show was in an hour. Perhaps a glass would help ease the nerves.

Thankfully, he'd turned up sober after being dismissed two nights ago, and the practice had gone well. Tom had been happy and Lucius had successfully performed every step flawlessly.

He should reward himself, he realised, picking up the bottle and opening it. He'd not touched a drink since, so why not celebrate the opening night with a glass.

He took out one from within a drawer on the table and filled it to the top. It was an expensive wine, but that was unsurprising. Crabbe had expensive taste.

He nodded as he took his first sip. It was sweet and went down his throat, leaving a nice taste in his mouth.

Thanks, Crabbe, he thought, making a mental note to thank his old school friend in person later.

It must have been a big sip he'd taken, for without realising it, the glass was empty. Frowning, he filled the glass again.

He gasped. What was happening? That glass was empty after a sip too.

"It's a magic glass," he chuckled to himself, pouring the remainder of the wine bottle into the glass.

It had just emptied when a knock sounded at the door and in came Mrs Goyle - Lucius couldn't remember her first name.

"You're on stage in ten minutes, Mr Malfoy," she said, glancing at the red-stained wine glass and empty bottle on the dressing table. "Mr Riddle wants to see you."

Lucius got clumsily to his feet, stumbling over to the woman. "Thank you, dear," he slurred. "Tell Mr… Tom, I'll be… right there." He pecked her on the cheek, causing the woman to blush and hurry from the room. When she was gone, he returned to his chair and picked up the bottle. "Why are you empty, Mr Bottle? What a shame. I might have to find a friend for you soon."

…

Tom's face was filled with horror as Lucius picked himself up from the stage floor for the fifth time in ten minutes. The audience were in fits of giggles, apparently under the impression they'd bought tickets to a satire version of the Nutcracker.

Lucius offered a grin to Tom and Severus, and got back to his feet, taking a few more steps before tripping once more. He'd only had one bottle of wine, but he remembered the half a bottle of Firewhisky he'd consumed before that. It had slipped his mind until now.

Tom shook his head, whispering something to Severus, who appeared very nervous.

Well, I really suck at ballet, don't I? Lucius thought to himself. I have always wanted to try break dancing… He'd seen a few people on the TV do that head spin and considering he could spin on his feet, his head shouldn't be too difficult.

The audience were laughing loudly now, especially when he landed flat on his back before he even spun once on his head. There was applause as the curtains closed and an announcement for intermission was made.

The moment they were shut, Tom stormed onto the stage, lifting Lucius to his feet. "Are you drunk?"

"Yes," Lucius said, stifling a giggle. "They loved me out there, though. They were laughing."

"They're not supposed to laugh," Tom growled. "This is serious."

Lucius burped loudly as Severus came to stand beside Tom.

"Now, Severus here, has told me this isn't the first time you've consumed too much alcohol. You have a problem, Lucius. Drinking before a show…" Tom shook his head.

Stumbling, Lucius threw an arm across Severus' shoulder. His friend said nothing. "Severus knows it's only occasionally. Don't you, Sev?"

Again, Severus said nothing.

Lucius laughed. "Oh, lighten up, will you. It was just some Firewhisky and wine. Celebration of opening night, you know."

No one else laughed.

Lucius shrugged. "Not in a cheerful mood tonight, are we? Well, I've go to start getting ready for the second part."

"No, you are not." Tom gripped Lucius' arm, causing white marks to appear. "You are going home."

"The show hasn't finished -"

"The show will be better without you. Severus, if you may…"

Before Lucius could protest, Severus escorted him from the stage without saying a word.

"Where're we going?" Lucius asked.

"Home."

"But the show -"

"You're drunk and you have a problem," Severus said, "and until we solve that problem, you cannot dance."

"A problem? I don't -"

"Yes, you do." Severus took him to where his car was parked in the performer's carpark.

Lucius climbed in, fumbling for the seatbelt, requiring help from Severus.

While they travelled through London, the streets busy on a Saturday night, Lucius closed his eyes. The windows were down and the cool air sobered him slightly. How much had he drank?

"Feeling better?" Severus asked after what felt like hours of silence.

"No…" Lucius closed his eyes, fighting down a wave of nausea.

"How much did you drink?"

"I… don't know. I won't have a job after tonight, will I?"

"Probably not. Lucius… why… what's going on?"

Lucius ran a hand over his face, swallowing so he didn't vomit inside his best friend's car. "I've lost everything, Sev. My wife, my son, my house… and now my job. I'm not sure what else to do."

There was silence. They reached the end of the city and started through the beginning suburbs of London. Severus lived in Holloway, in a small house in a family-oriented area.

Then, "You need to pick yourself up and rebuild. You haven't lost Draco, you can still see him. But not in this state."

Lucius closed his eyes and nodded. "Then how -"

"Just because you're no longer with Narcissa, doesn't mean you don't have Draco anymore. You can see him when you want. She said that, didn't she?"

"Yes."

"Then sober up and make yourself decent enough to see your son."

"I have a problem, Sev. I tried, and I kept drinking."

"You can fix it."

"I can't."

"You can. You just need help. Listen, we'll go home, get some sleep, and tomorrow, you can fix yourself up. Even if it's rehab, anything to fix it."

Lucius nodded. "Thank you, Sev."

Severus returned the nod. "Of course."

Lucius didn't remember much after that, the alcohol finally putting him into a deep sleep for the remainder of the journey home.

…

Six months later

"Plie, turnout, plie, turnout…" Lucius clapped to each word, watching the five-year-olds attempt to keep in time. He laughed as one fell over. "Alright there, Draco?"

"Daddy, I can't!"

"You can, Draco. Just keep trying."

The blond boy gave his father a scathing look before returning to the bar.

Lucius sighed. It was obvious his son didn't enjoy dancing, but it was the only chance he had to see his son. After his five month stint in rehab, Narcissa had put many restrictions on his visitation rights. The only time he saw his son was through his three dancing lessons a week, something Draco now held great resentment towards both parents for. Draco didn't want to dance, he wanted to play football, and every day was a battle.

It didn't help that he was the only boy in the classes Lucius taught and felt rather lonely.

"Plie, turnout, plie, turnout… well done, Draco!"

The smile that formed on his son's face after finally getting the steps was something Lucius would never forget. Draco may have hated dancing, but he seemed proud of his own abilities.

"I did it!" Draco punched the air. "Daddy, I did it!"

Lucius nodded, smiling. "You did, Draco. You did do it."

Perhaps ballet wasn't his thing anymore - his time had passed. But now he could teach the next generation so in fifteen years they would be the most sought after performers for London shows.

Web, I hope you enjoyed this. Playing with the prompts was fun! Thank you to Lily (Jilly Trash) for beta-ing and suggesting an ending for this. Also, I sincerely apologise for the OOCness of this fic. I have no excuses, nor was it intentional. It just didn't happen, however, I hope you still liked it.