Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and am making no profit from this. I am merely borrowing these lovely characters and placing them elsewhere.

Insatiable Waste

Prequel

Dance, dance, dance. Gotta keep moving. The bass was rising up in volume again and the lights were flashing before both her open and then closed eyes. Hermione was sweating quite a bit, her hair curling up around her forehead and the nape of her neck. Her hair was long enough that the curls were pulled down into waves rather than true curls. Her sequenced dress was beginning to rub her skin, making her rash in places where she was sweating. Uncomfortable was an understatement. A glance at her cell phone confirmed that it was only about 2 a.m., nowhere near the time she had promised she'd stay out until.

The strobes hit her, the bass of the music thumping, taking her away in a trance. She closed her eyes and kept moving, willing her body to keep moving until the beats ceased.

Finally it did, and the air cannons went off, confetti fell from the ceilings and people were cheering around her, edging the DJ to do another song. As the crowd continued to applaud she slowed her movements, feeling the full affects of having danced nearly three hours straight.

The blood rushing through her veins made her feel alive, but it also made her crave the nicotine. Pushing her way through the dense crowd she followed the signs reading "exit" in red neon letters to a balcony. Bodies, clothing and scents all brushed by her but she didn't stop, trudging her way up stairs to outside.

It was busy, but considerably less busy than inside, where noise, sweat, and mugginess rose into the air, leaving little else to do but dance amongst the loud beats. She pulled her hair to one side, enjoying the feel of the cool air lapping at her moist skin.

She grabbed her side bag, pulling it so that it rested in front of her and dug out a pack of cigarettes. Continued search in her bag did not yield what she was looking for— a lighter. She slipped the cigarette between her lips anyway, pulling out her red lipstick and looking around the group outside. They were all smoking, it'd be easy to get a light then.

She felt the familiar wisp of magic in the air though, stopping on instinct to trace it. It was very, very powerful. Only few people she knew had that much power, and no doubt this person was masking their magic capabilities. Someone with that much magic just didn't walk around with it hanging out. She turned around and found herself starring straight into a lit zippo lighter. She leaned in, inhaling once but not letting it go into her lungs, only her mouth, before exhaling. Lighting the cigarette she pulled back and looked up into the eyes of her hero.

A wide smirk spread across her lips in recognition. His, in comparison, did not change at all.

"Severus Snape." A pink tongue came out of his mouth quickly to lick his thin upper lip, smoothly masking a hidden smile. He didn't say anything. He quirked his eyebrow up, watching her puff on her cigarette, his face smooth and void of any emotion once again. He was dressed smartly. Dark denim jeans and an equally dark dress shirt covered with a fitted dark green wool coat, tortoise shells. She smiled as she caught sight of the buttons. Their conversation about tortoise seeped through the corners of her mind, and like an infection, other memories of him flooded through the corners of her mind's eye. It was the most pleasant feeling she'd had in months.

Hermione turned around to the railing of the balcony, leaning over a bit. The cool air was rushing by her pink cheeks as she gazed out into the city lights. The balcony was an easy fifteen or so stories up in the air, allowing her the view of city lights, light pollution, and smog grazed by the full moon.

He momentarily gazed at her brown locks of hair, caught on a tide of air, floating weightlessly. She was gorgeous, delicate, strong, brilliant. He knew he was a fool to have let her go, but even more of a fool to let any of their past have become a reality. Never should have been was the best way to sum up his feelings.

"Thought you quit," was all he said to her.

"Didn't think I'd run into anyone I knew. Not many people I know come out to Los Angeles for the night to go clubbing."

His eyes glowed with unspoken mirth against the down city lights. To any onlooker they would have seen a beautiful young girl standing with a sour, older, yet handsome, man who looked like this was the last place he wanted to be. But she knew how to read his eyes, and they told her that he was far less annoyed than he cared to let on.

"Well you have the uncanny ability to apparate much longer distances than the average witch," he responded with, taking his time to draw out their meaning.

"Was that a compliment, Snape?" Again, silence.

She moved the smoke through her body, watching it escape through her exhale into the cold night sky. "Why are you here?" She asked.

"McGongall." She turned to him, really listening now. "Harry's at St. Mungos." Hermione threw the unfinished cigarette onto the ground, stomping it out with her boot. "He's going to be alright," he added.

"What was it?" The words "this time," were left unsaid, although both of them knew that Harry's emotional stability had been extremely questionable of late. Both the nicotine and adrenaline coursing through her veins made her hands shake as she pulled out her phone, seeing no missed calls.

"Pills." Harry was of course smarter than many of them gave him credit for. Being of magical capabilities, healers could stop cuts and other wounds much more easily than removing toxins that had already been absorbed into the blood system. Separating already infused blood from overdose was difficult, even for the best trained magical healers.

She pulled her red satchel purse closer to her body, moving to the apparition point she'd used to get here. Snape followed quickly behind her, no words needing to be said between them.

"Side along?" He asked her. She nodded silently, craving his touch and appreciating his physical support when Harry's life was on the line. A year ago she could never have seen him offering this to her, but times had changed. After all they'd been through…

She waited until he opened his arms to her and she stepped into his familiar, strong, embrace. His scent, all of it, was exactly like she remembered him to be. The memory of him came at her like a shadow controlled by the progression of the sun. In her mind she thought she heard him let go a soft sigh, one of contentment. But of course that had to be her imagination. For Severus Snape did not love Hermione Granger. At least he didn't in this time.

A/N: So I have little idea of where I'm going with this. I had an idea off of this a few years ago but never went anywhere with it. It has the potential to have a very complicated plot. I'm tempted to start in the past and lead up to this moment perhaps. I'm looking for some feedback.