Author: Annie
Translation: Serathe
Betareader: Rachel
Permission: Yes
Bar Talks
He was watching the amber liquid in his glass. Two more drinks and he would reach a blessed condition of neutralization. Alcohol was an anesthetic medicine for him, but today he had a desire to have a drink. He walked into the first bar he saw, ordered whiskey and sat in the darkest corner of the room. Deep in thought, he raised his head from time to time and glanced gloomy at a few other guests.
Life stinks; he couldn't remember where he learned it, but it was describing his situation accurately. His life stank, without a doubt. After the last fight he was hiding in the Muggle world. How low I fell. Damn Dumbledore and his brilliant plan.
There was a murmur of hushed conversations and soft music oozing from the loudspeakers. He wasn't disturbed by that. With an expressionless gaze he was watching a woman, who just entered the bar. Kind of familiar motions. When she was ordering a drink, he heard her voice... a voice from the past - irritating, importunate. Granger. Of all places on the earth she had to be exactly here. Bloody hell, registered the sober part of his mind.
He edged himself deeper into the corner of his box. He didn't want her to notice him. He perceived that she chose some idiotic feminine drink. He relaxed a little when she crossed the room and directed herself to a table. A moment later he stiffened again. She chose the nearest free table and fixed her eyes on him. Bugger it!
He was peering at her furtively, wondering what the hell she was doing in Muggle London in a second-rate bar. The brightest mind of Hogwarts. He didn't like her, but it didn't prevent him from appreciating her intelligence. With half-closed eyes he watched her standing up and proceeding in his direction. Dammit, I must get rid of her.
---
Hermione was coming back from work. She was embittered. That condition has lasted almost a year. Precisely since the end of the war with Voldemort. In addition, it's starting to rain. Bad luck, she though with resignation. She entered the nearest bar and decided to have something heady. She would sit a while, wait out the storm, and think. A moment of reflection would do her good.
She looked for a free table. For a split second, she rested her gaze on a man who was blending in with the darkness of the room.
He was occupying the box in the darkest corner of the room and he was watching her. That figure looked familiar. She took her drink from the barman and went to a table where she would have the best view of the dark human shape.
She was slowly sipping her margarita and trying to match this figure with a face. Gestures, that head movement, profile - Snape! No, it's impossible. He is dead. She shook her head. But... they never found the body, just a broken wand and bloodstained robes. He is hiding. Why? But... One scene went in front of her eyes.
---
"This writing belongs to Severus", Professor McGonagall was telling her and Remus. She had a short note about Voldemort's next plans in her hand. A moment earlier she had asked them to stay longer after the meeting of the Order. She wanted to show them something. The war with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had been going on for the last two years, and it was coming to the crucial stage. That was when owls had started to deliver anonymous letters to Minerva, containing information about Voldemort's planned actions.
McGonagall explained that at first she didn't take them seriously. She didn't trust Snape anymore. She suspected a trap, but so far, everything he warned them about was correct. So she had chosen two people whom she knew could accept the truth. That news shocked them. Harry had told everyone the details about what happened that night when Dumbledore died. Like everyone else, she and Lupin thought that Snape is a traitor.
That evening , the three of them debated whether or not they should reveal the source of information. Hermione was against it. She considered it safer to keep the identity of the informant a secret. The ex-Potions Master was as hated by the Order members as Voldemort, or even worse - Everyone though he was a traitor.
The notes came regularly until the end of the war. Thanks to the notes, among other things, they were able to defeat Voldemort. They were always a step ahead. And then Snape died...
---
No, he didn't, she shook off the memories. Unless I have hallucinations after two drinks.
She once again nailed her eyes on the black-haired man. She wondered if she should approach him, but she didn't know how he would react. He definitely recognized me. Her hands started to sweat. She sat motionless for a moment. She had never been considered a coward. Making up her mind, she took her glass and approached the box where Snape was sitting.
"Professor?"
"Go away, Granger."
She placed her drink on the table and sat opposite to her ex-teacher.
"You're not afraid, Granger?" she heard a voice that was hoarse from alcohol and too many cigarettes. She passed over his comment in silence, just with an ironic gaze. He snorted with impatience. "I'm a murderer, Death Eater, you forgot?" He raised the glass. "Cheers, Mudblood!"
The insult hurt, especially hearing it from a once respectable teacher.
"You haven't changed", she commented. She was sure that he wanted to get rid of her. "We thought you are dead."
He grimaced with a sneer.
"I am dead, Granger. Got it? Unless the Gryffindor know-it-all knows better", he hissed.
Hearing those words, she became silent. They drank another refill in complete silence. It was interrupted only by a clash of the lighter, as he smoked one cigarette after another.
Snape was watching the girl through the smoke. The war had left its mark on her, too. Outside she didn't change, but she had a nearly unrecognizable maturity on her face, which only appeared on people who knew the taste of human tragedies. There was a shadow in her eyes, typical for those who had seen and lived through too much. She still hadn't learned how to hide it.
"Muggle London, Granger? What about that brilliant magic world?" he decided to end that comfortable silence.
She didn't sense any curiosity in his voice. Just indifference. I wonder how much he has drunk already, she thought. Then she squared her arms.
"Many reasons, Professor". She didn't want to talk with him about that. "And you?" In the moment she let out those words, she knew already, that it was a very stupid question. She got ready for one of his typical snarky, sarcastic comments.
Snape just gave her an empty gaze.
"Many reasons, Granger."
And then there was silence again. They apparently weren't good at conversation. It seemed that they felt good just remaining silent together. Lost in their thoughts, they were slowly sipping their drinks.
After an hour or so, Snape decided he had enough. He was drunk enough to fall asleep and sober enough to get to his apartment.
They stood up simultaneously. Apparently she had had enough too.
"Ladies first". He let her pass with an unduly derisive gesture. She didn't look at him, just approached the bar. She paid for her drinks and went outside without looking behind her. She managed to make three steps, when she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder.
"Just remember, Granger, you didn't see me. I died, got it?" She smelled whisky in his breath.
She squared her arms and nodded, then quickly walked in the direction of her flat. She turned only once. He was still standing in front of the pub, watching her go.
The figure of the spy merging in the dark.
---