AN: Chapter One is here! I've had most of this written for a while, but I needed to fine tune it before I was able to post it. I also feel the need to beg my readers' indulgences when it comes to updating. I don't have ready access to internet. It's a commodity that I can't afford at the moment. Being self sufficient and living on your own sure is a drag. I will update, eventually, but I can not promise it will be in a timely fashion. Expect at least two weeks before I update. Perhaps more. Most likely more.

Spoilers/Warnings: AU, Ooc-ness, slash, cliches... Mostly a whole lot of fluffy, pointless romance. I'm not taking this story very seriously, and I encourage any readers to treat it with the same flippancy.

Also, please note that this is somewhat AU. I am in the Harry Potter universe, but I am mostly disregarding... pretty much all of the books!

London Whiskey and Lonely-hearts.

Harry Kiernan, more commonly called Kitten (though he had for years tried to get people to cut the Kitten crap out, but eventually gave up and just accepted his nickname,) decided that he really didn't like London very much.

Simply put, it rained too much. He peeled a lock of his wet hair off of his cheek and looked out the window of his cab. He didn't mind a little rain, but this days-on-end shit needed to quit. It had been pouring for the past three days and four nights, and Kitten was getting tired of it.

Other than that, he really couldn't complain about London. It was big enough to lose himself in, and he could wander a different street every day for three years and not discover everything there was to know about the sprawling city. He could eat at a different cafe every night. There were plenty of cozy little boutiques, book stores, and even bars. When he first moved here, he couldn't help but grin. He would never get bored in a place like London.

That was only eight months ago.

He had moved to London on a whim. He had been going to school at Oxford. His parents had wanted only the best for him, but he was having none of it. What he really wanted was to live. He didn't want to waste anymore time in school. He liked school, it was true. It appealed to his curious nature, the very same nature which earned him his nickname. ("You're as curious as a wee kitten, lad," his father had said fondly before ruffling his hair. "But kittens have nine lives, and you only one. A bit of caution could do you some good.") But schooling wasn't what he really wanted.

He just wanted to live for a while. He didn't want to think about the past, or the future. He just wanted to take it step by step and see what was coming for him.

"Here's fine," he murmured softly to the cab driver, and was promptly delivered into the rain, minus fifteen pounds. He stood in front of the shabby looking building for only a brief moment, then turned his coat collar up around his ears and made his way into the lounge.

Kitten shook his head, his hair glistening from the rain. He worked an eight to three shift at this little bar and lounge. He was a bartender, and he actually enjoyed his work very much. Every once and a while there was some riffraff or another causing trouble, but it was never very serious. The bouncer, a large man in his mid-forties named Liam, made sure all of the customers stayed in line.

Speaking of Liam, there he was, by the door. Kitten nodded to him as he walked passed and took his place behind the bar. He took off his soggy jacket and laid it underneath the counter before smoothing his slightly rumpled outfit. He was wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of old, form-fitting jeans tucked firmly into his scuffed boots. An antique rosary hung down onto his chest, and a collar was fixed around his neck. His usual attire.

He leaned his elbows against the shiny counter and surveyed the room. There were only a few people in the place, but it would pick up soon enough. He smiled slightly and prepared to make the best of the night.

XoXoX

Severus Snape really wasn't sure why he was spending his night in a bar in the middle of London. It was the summer, so he didn't have classes or students to worry about, but it was still unlike him to spend his time in such a place. It was almost a personal rule of his; he would avoid menial places such as this bar. They were beneath him.

Severus had made an exception this night, however, because he felt the need to get utterly smashed.

The past year at Hogwarts had been... There were no words to describe. It was safe to say that it had been rough, and had driven him completely out of the magical world for the summer. He needed a break. He was tired, and crankier than usual, and was well on his way to burning out.

Which is why he had found himself, on the first night of his beautiful summer vacation, in a bar in muggle London. A perfect place to unwind with impunity.

A perfect place to get utterly smashed.

If he were being perfectly honest with himself, though, he would admit that he was lonely. He wanted... something. Perhaps not "happily ever after, mushy-gushy romance" crap, but something. Someone to talk to, or at the very least, a place where he could surround himself with people and forget how utterly alone he was.

It would be a perfect time to mention that Severus Snape was never one to be perfectly honest. Therefore, he told himself he was in this bar to get utterly smashed because of those ridiculous brats he taught all year round.

Yes indeed.

He sat himself down at the bar, and waited impatiently for some service. He rested his elbow on the shiny surface, and his chin in his palm, and gazed out at the gathered people. It was rather quiet, he decided, but he figured that it would pick up soon. It was only eight at night, after all. People generally didn't start drinking this early. That is, unless they were desperate for something.

Severus didn't like the thought that he was desperate, so he put it from his mind. Instead he focused on the people surrounding him.

The customers in the bar were varied in appearance. There were a few women there; young and off-puttingly friendly. Mostly there were men. A few were wearing business suits and sipping at martinis. The rest were dressed in common clothing, chugging down beer.

He almost felt over-dressed, with his button up shirts and slacks, but he wasn't about to show it. Or even fret over it. These muggles were beneath him and not worthy of his consideration.

"Can I get you something?" A soft voice queried. Sharp black eyes jerked to the young man behind the counter. The...beautiful young man behind the counter.

He had rather long black hair, glistening and wet. He must have been outside not long ago, Severus thought as he watched a trail of rain water flow down the side of his neck. He had stunning viridian eyes behind a pair of rimless glasses. They were fringed in thick lashes which brushed against his sun-kissed cheeks. Rosy lips curled into a half smile.

He was a good deal shorter than Severus, and wearing a casual black t-shirt and dark pair of jeans. An antique looking rosary hung onto his chest, and a collar adorned his slender neck. He was slightly gothic and rebellious looking, with his outrageous jewelry and piercings in his left ear.

He was a very appealing sight. The potions master sat, stunned by the sight before.

The young man's smile grew even more. "Can I get you something?" He repeated, and Severus's mind snapped back to the present.

"Whiskey," Severus grunted, and the young man complied.

He moved about behind the counter, before setting a small glass full of ice in front of him and filled it to the brim with the amber liquid. "Rough times, huh?"

The potions master felt his eyes narrowing. "What makes you say that?"

The young man just kept on smiling, his voice low and soothing. "It's a little early to be hitting such a strong drink. But I admit, it is necessary at times."

"Humph." Severus picked up the glass and took a drink, tensing briefly as the liquid burned his throat. "What would you know of hard times? You look seventeen."

He laughed, a sultry sound low in his throat, and leaned his arms against the counter of the bar. "Twenty-three, actually, and anyone can suffer, regardless of their age." He rested his chin in both of his hands. "Pain doesn't discriminate."

"I hope you aren't looking for me to applaud you on your seemingly wise answers," Severus growled, and the young man shook his head.

"Just striking up a conversation, but if you're looking for some solitude..." He straightened from his position, and had the audacity to wink at the potions master.

Severus attempted to conjure up feelings of outrage and failed miserably. The young man was rather charming, and slightly interesting to speak with. There were no other customers lined up at the bar, waiting to be served some drink or another, so he figured he could chat with the lovely bartender. He didn't feel guilty about commandeering his attention.

"I don't mind a bit of small talk," he said simply.

The cheeky brat grinned at him. "I knew you wouldn't. That's why you're sitting here at the bar instead of in some corner. People who want to talk sit here."

Severus "harrumphed" and finished his drink instead of acknowledging the young man's observations. He wouldn't admit it, but he was rather embarrassed that the man could read him so easily. His time as a spy and a Death Eater should have left him with more than adequate shields around himself. It was unnerving that this muggle could see through so many of them.

He also wouldn't admit that it was somewhat exhilarating. It was...nice to be seen. What a nauseating thought. Next he would be wondering what it would be like to have someone he could confide in. That just wouldn't do. The pretty muggle in front of him, who continued to smile softly at him with his head cocked slightly to one side, was wrecking havoc on him. He was distracting, and he reminded Severus of how long it had been since he had physical contact with another, and how none of those men from his past were half as stunning as the creature with shining viridian eyes, silky hair, and outlandishly defiant clothing.

Simply put, he made Severus want, which could be very dangerous indeed.

Luckily for him, a group of less-than sober men made their way to the bar, yelling for various drinks. The young man turned to attend to them, and Severus took the resulting clamor and used it to make a tactical retreat from the building.

The rain continued to fall. He turned his face towards the sky and closed his eyes, letting the water calm his mind and body.

It was dangerous to want. It could be said, though, that Severus was no coward, and he took note of the building (so he could find it at a later date) before apparating with a crack.