Readers: Thanks be to all the kind words! Cheers! This is a little bit of a shorter chapter (work is going to catch up with me soon).

"Have you ever been drunk before?" Lily sweetly inquired, smiling like the Cheshire Cat.

"I—uh--" Severus let out a muffled laugh, "No, I guess…Well, my father's Whiskey--"

"Oh yeah?" Lily took a swig of her glass of Brandy. It sloshed out of the cup, onto her cheeks, and trickled down her shirt.

"Oh, god…" Lily looked down. They both started laughing. It was like a choir, the way their laughs swelled and climaxed. Severus scooted closer to her.

"Look at you--"

"I'll have to take this off--" Lily winked. Underneath her button-down was a lacy tank top.

"Oh dear, you'll have to get that washed…" Severus felt warm. He took his jacket off. They sat there, in the corner of the muggle park where they'd first met years ago. It was Christmas break. Of course it was cold, but they were so warm…

"It's so cold!" Lily sputtered.

"Here--" Severus leaned into her, wrapping his arms around her. She was warm and light and soft. So soft. Her hair smelled like honey and peppermint.

"Severus--"

He leaned in. He didn't know what the fuck he was doing. Their lips collided. Alcohol and soft lips. Cold noses and slobber-y tongues. Sweet, sweet seventeen.

"Oy, Snivly!"

Severus choked on his own tongue; he could feel bile crawling up his throat.

"SNIVLY! Whattchu doing with my--"

Severus felt strong hands grip his shoulders and rip him off the bench.

"James!" Lily shrieked. She pulled Severus' jacket over her tank top. "James, stop, look. It's my fault. We were just having a few drinks--"

James threw a punch; it hit Severus clear in the right cheek. Teeth collided with cheek tissue; Severus spit out red, red fluid.

"Look, Potter--" Severus said with as much volume as he could muster. He threw his arms over his head and tried to duck out of another punch. James faltered, and then went for Severus' stomach. Severus' knees buckled.

"James. Stop. I-it's my--"

"Lily," James said while he bent down to Severus' level, "whatever it is, it's the drink. You'd never actually go after this sodding--" James gargled and spit in Severus' face, "This sodding piece of scum."

Stiffly on the ground, Severus lay in the fetal position. Lily looked from James to Severus; she took off her jacket and laid it on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Sev," she whispered.

SS

Hermione pushed sweaty brown tendrils out of her face. Stocking books on the top shelves of the bookstore was increasingly difficult without magic. She balanced on the stepladder, pushing the last of an encyclopedia set onto the top of a corner shelf. The front bell rang. Hastily jumping off the ladder, Hermione hurried to the front of the stuffy store; it was almost closing time.

"You can't be serious--" she said, hands on hips, scowling. In front of her stood a tall, black haired man in a crisp, black muggle business suit. "Well?" Hermione angrily inquired, sliding behind the counter.

"Ms. Granger, it's been three weeks since you left--"

"And you think I need checking up on, do you?"

"No. I need a muggle book, and it so happened to be this--"

"Severus," she hissed. Severus winced every time she said his first name, for it was only when her soul itself was cross with him did she use it. It was a curse word of the foulest breed. "You are more transparent than a raindrop. If I had the galleons, I'd pay you back for all the time you wasted aiding me. But now I am an independent adult. So, if you don't mind," she motioned towards the door.

"Not sticking around the wizarding world?" he inquired stubbornly, planting his frame as if to block time itself from ticking onwards.

"Some of us need a break from the wizarding world--"

"But it's your world--"

"It's your world, Severus. And unless you're going to buy a damned used Muggle book, I'm going to have to ask you to lea--"

Severus grabbed to nearest book on the nearest shelf and slammed it down on the cashier counter.

"I'll take this."

Hermione looked from the book to his brow, "It's a book on pregnancy--"

"I'm open to learning about new subjects," he shrugged, willing the red to recede from his cheeks.

Hermione sighed. "This, and then out. I have to close up shop." She hit the cash register. "I don't suppose you have any muggle--"

Severus pressed a handful of coins onto the counter.

Hermione snorted, "Well prepared, you sure thought this one up." She printed the receipt and slipped it into the book. "Here."

Almost bashfully, he took the book from her. Reaching into his pocket, he gave her his tight fist.

"What are you--" Hermione tried to shrug away the feeling of his cool hand in hers. Opening his hand in hers, she let his fingers linger in between hers. A brass key.

"What is this for?" Hermione aske, reaching out beyond the counter. Severus was already turning towards the door.

"Oh, I think you know, Ms. Granger."

"No, I--come back--" she pushed through the counter and followed him out into the street.

"In case you need help beyond that of the mugg—this world--"

"I don't understand--" Hermione shouted; onlookers in the street glanced at them in shadows.

"Go back to your shop, Ms. Granger--" He crossed the street and into a park.

HG

Tucked in the utmost end corner of Diagon Alley, Hermione sat in her recently rented flat. Angrily flipping through a muggle news press, she sought the rental ads. There was a small house on the other side of London; she wouldn't be able to afford that for years. She felt stupid, small, and impulsive for renting a flat in the wizarding world. She needed a break, a break. Her doorbell sounded.

"Who is it?" She called, stashing the paper under a stack of books on her table.

"Me--"

"Me who?" She called again, while grabbing her jacket. She smiled, she knew bloody well who it was.

"Peter, the boy from the pub--"

"Oh, that me," Hermione said, opening the door. "How do you do, Peter from the pub?"

"Thirsty--" the strapping lad said, pulling her into a tight hug. He stood a head taller than she; his blonde hair feathered around his ears. His thin frame was dressed well in a navy scarf and stiff black coat. "You alright, dove?" he inquired, when Hermione seemed a little less than enthusiastic to hug him back; she just leaned.

Peter was sweet, to be sure. They got on very well. But, though they'd known each other a while now, it was only their third date. Hermione didn't want to go dumping emotional and analytical things on the poor young man. "No—Yes—I'm fine. An old friend came to see me today, and I thought he might have come around to pick up something he forgot—But that's for another time. You ready to go?" Hermione forced a smile and locked her door. Hand in hand they walked down to the tavern across the way.

Across the corner, under a burnt out streetlamp, a dark figure slumped low. If one listened closely, a faint sniffle could be heard in the wind. But, of course, only the wind was listening. With a crack, Severus disapparated.