"Creachurs of 'abit"

It had been five months since the night of the last battle. And Snape was getting thoroughly pissed. He was still in St. Mungo's since no matter how hard they tried none of the 'normal' healing methods had worked. So five friggin months later, here he sat, barely ambulatory and being force-fed pudding by some 4-foot thing who called himself Emendis.

Oblivious of Snape's thoughts, Emendis smiled at the man and got another spoonful of pudding ready.

Oh shit, thought Snape, What if the little twat is attracted to me? Emendis misinterpreted the look of disgust that crossed Snape's face as a reaction to the pudding.

"There, there," he said, patting Snape tenderly on the knee, "I have something else you can eat." With that he reached into his robes and pulled out…

…his wand. "I'll conjure you up some soup, shall I?" (A/N So sorry, you thought there was gonna be some gay smut. None of that here /)

Snape felt a red tint rise to his face and glared suspiciously around the room as if daring some unknown spectrum to fade out of the shadows and taunt him.

In some ways, the months had been much nicer to Hermione. For one thing she could move without sending fragments of glass through her system. She wasn't badly scared. At least, not in any place that a descent wizard would ever look. She was still in possession of all extremities, save a small notch in her ear. Never mind that though; her hair covered it anyway. And of course the mere fact that she could eat on her own gave her a massive hand-up to her former Potion Master.

But Hermione had changed. After the Final Battle she had tracked down all of her former alliances and, after taking stock of the world she had known, quietly disappeared out of it. Part of her argued that running away was the cowardly thing to do, but the other part screamed that it wasn't so cowardly to run away from a world that had brought her nothing but death. There had been a time where she had found friendship in that world. Friendship that had been denied her in the Muggle world, but after Ron's death and Harry's withdrawal from her, there had simply been no point.

So Hermione lived in a small apartment complex in eastern Berkshire. She worked a small insurance claim company and a surprising amount of her customers actually got what they had paid for, which in the insurance company was a rare thing. The life was monotonous and the work too simple to be of interest, but the hours were nice and long which left little time to think about all her loses. She had a set schedule and liked it that way.

It was two minutes past ten O'clock when Hermione slipped into the back of the rather skuzzy tavern. The bartender looked up from the mix he was concocting.

" 'Ello, Miss Granger. You're later than usual," He said gently.

"How are you, Bill. I thought tonight was your night off?" Was it sad that she knew the bartenders schedules? No, she decided, it would have been sad if she didn't. At least she still took in her surroundings, when sober.

He slid the concoction over the bar to her.

"Anticipating me?" She quirked an eyebrow, considering whether or not she should be offended.

"Us creachurs of 'abit are steady like tha', Miss Granger" he nodded and left to tend to other costumers. She glanced around the bar. It was busy tonight.

Sighing, she turned to the Long Island Iced Tea in front of her and sipped it, trying out the taste. Two parts vodka, just as she liked. After this, she would feel slightly better about downing a bottle of whisky. It was the same every night. Monotony.

She turned on the barstool and glanced at the table in the corner where she usually sat. It was occupied by a group of giggling teenagers. Probably just of drinking age and trying it out. They wouldn't be there long. Just as she finished the last of her drink, the trio rose and left, feigning drunkenness.

"Lightweights," the slightly drunk Hermione muttered as she took her newly opened bottle of whisky and staggered to the now vacant seating.

An hour later, Hermione was done with her whisky and considering buying more. She knew she shouldn't and shook her head wistfully, not yet wanting to stagger the two blocks to her apartment.

A hooded figure swept into the bar and ordered. He sat lightly on his stool while his cool gaze swept the room. It rested on Hermione.

He sipped his drink, savoring the unique flavor and watched her.

" 'Ave an eye on our Miss Granger?" came a voice behind him. He swirled around on the barstool and fixed his glare on Bill who was calmly drying out a mug.

"And who are you?" The hooded figure tried to muster in as much venom as he could and was surprisingly adept at it.

"Oh, I'm Bill, the bartender," Bill was unfazed, having seen to many broken people in drunken rages, "And tha's 'Ermione Granger. Go on and have a talk with 'er. She's one tha' needs company." Bless him. So thick…

"Indeed," the venomous man said. Standing, he strode to her.

His shadow fell on her, catching her attention. Without looking up she asked, "And how may I help you?"

"I was wondering if I might join you. I'll buy you a drink," he cut in smoothly. His voice was completely altered, almost silky.

She glanced up then, and studied him briefly. He wore a hooded cloak, which while normal in the wizarding world was very ominous normally. Hermione was too drunk to notice the difference though so she motioned him to sit down opposite her.

He sat down, rigid in his seat, and motioned for the bartender. In seconds, she was next to him. Hermione turned her glazed eyes to the man.

"I suppose I'll have a Zombie like his," she said, gesturing to the man's drink.

Twenty minutes of distant conversation later, she swayed in her seat. "Forgive me, but I should be going," her slur was barely audible.

"Of course," the man said. "Should I walk you to your car?"

As if she could drive like this? "No, I'm walking."

She rose unsteadily and so did he, with a measure more grace.

"I'll walk with you, shall I?" he smirked, daring her to deny him.

"Okay then," she said and led the way out.

After a block, with him trailing behind her, she turned, "I'm sorry, but I didn't catch your name."

"You know it," his face twisted into a grin and became clear for just a second before she started to fall. The man stepped over her, catching her before she fell and a single strand of silvery blonde hair fell from underneath his hood.

"You're making this too easy," he sneered. His tone artic once more.

And then Hermione understood…

"Lucius…"

Kelly Roxton- The next chapter has a scene from the night of the last battle so you'll be able to see more what happened, And Hermione's scars play a big part in the story so…yeah. Thanks for reviewing big smiles

Duj- True, true, but wait! Wizards CAN hide….thanks for an idea!

Witchy-Misha- Thanks for your support! Trying times and all. So sad