Feel free to check out the previous chapter for an edited author's note. Don't you just love it when disgruntled reviewers get what they want? I know I sure do!

.x.

Chapter 02

Bellatrix was carrying the guitar, despite Severus' initial restraint. "For fuck's sake, though, be careful," he'd said, "I just replaced the strings on it."

Bellatrix had just shrugged, her face expressionless behind her sunglasses, and hooked the strap across her chest so that guitar laid flat against her back, holding her own bag in one hand. She was always quieter in public. They had to live and survive as Americans, which meant squeezing out as much of their English accents as possible. Bella preferred not to put effort into it, and stayed the quiet, smirking girl at his side. Severus could alter his voice as best be needed; he'd managed to pass as French, once, when they'd gotten in trouble with a policeman, up east near the Canadian border. The cop had decided to give them a warning rather than deal with an apparent tourist from Quebec.

Severus ran his fingers through his short hair. Already the hot sun was starting to sink in through the shoulders of his dark t-shirt, and he knew they'd probably need to duck into a nearby building soon - which was why they switched directions as soon as they could, proceeding down one several angled, particular streets.

Bellatrix paused momentarily to admire a rack of magazines unfolded out onto the sidewalk, then joined Severus and several other people in walking across the street, moving in a wave, their heads bowed as one under the hot, blistering sun. Once back onto pavement they both headed for the front of what was a public lounge; but it was daylight, and so its sign was unlit and the windows were drab and dark.

They pushed through the heavy doors and into the front room where a woman sat dozing behind the counter at the coat check. Her bright red hair, with weak blonde highlights, cascaded over her shoulders and almost over the edge of the counter. Music from beyond, inside the club, drifted in softly, the song mostly just to destroy the drab stillness of the place at noon rather than for actual dancing. The place was never really, officially open until at least nine at night; but sometimes people still dropped by anyway, just to get a quiet drink.

Bellatrix took her sunglasses off and perched them atop her head and stood in the dimness, relishing the cool, while Severus stepped over and rapped the countertop with a fingernail covered in chipped black nail polish. The girl, Lauren, sat up sharply, startled, and gazed blearily up at her tall visitor.

She blinked once or twice, then broke into a tired smile. "Nice haircut, man," she said. "Looks good."

"Thanks," Severus said. He reached over the counter to fix the zig-zag part in her hair, tousled when she'd cradled her head in her arms. "What happened to you? You have raccoon eyes."

"Up all night, y'know?" she said, with a shrug. There was a drowsy slowness to her movements, as if she was fighting to keep up with the speed of the normal world. "My roommate and her boyfriend were having a fight and I had to mop up when he left. Christ."

"Who, Ariel?" Severus asked, frowning slightly. He was leaning against the counter in the customary position people always held, the type used by crafty employees when talking during work hours. Bellatrix, her attention piqued, wandered over. "Is she alright?"

"She's got blacker eyes than me," she said. "Fortunately she looks like that anyway with all her damn makeup."

"What happened?" Bellatrix asked, curiously. Lauren turned a bit of a smile on Bella. Lauren's fancy of her was no secret.

"Nice hair," she said.

"Trevor cut it for me," Bellatrix said. "Needed a change. What happened to Ariel?"

Lauren shrugged again, frowning a little, returning to her roommate's troubles. "I don't even know, but her boyfriend just went berserk. Hopefully he won't come back to the apartment tonight and try to start trouble."

"Well," Severus said, kicking the side of the coat check booth a little in some frustration, "shit. We were here to ask you if we could crash at your place for tonight."

"Oh," Lauren said, looking thoughtful. "Shit, indeed."

"How is the boyfriend a problem, though?" Bellatrix asked. She talked softly, in the slight chance she lost control of her speech, and slipped into the easy cadence of her native country. "Maybe if we're there he'd be less likely to start something."

"But Lauren and Ariel might not even be at the apartment altogether," Severus interjected impatiently. "Avoiding him, naturally."

"Hold on, hold it," Lauren said, making a T-for-time-out motion with her hands. She looked more exhausted than ever. "Listen, I'm not working tonight, just for the day, but Ariel might be out. I actually would like you two to be there. I'm going to be fucking exhausted and I'm not in the mood to stay somewhere other than my own bed. I just don't know where you guys could sleep."

"Fuck, Lauren," Severus said, with a shrug. "You know me. I can fall asleep in a goddamned bath tub."

"This is true," Bellatrix interjected.

"Okay, um," Lauren said. She was a born fidgeter, so she immediately picked up a pen and flicked it around in her hands. "Anne can take the couch and you can crash on the floor if you want, Trev. Or whatever, we'll see what happens."

"Thanks," Severus said, looking relieved.

"Yeah, thanks Laur," Bella added, which made Lauren perk up a little.

"No, it's cool," she said. "I love you guys, and I don't want to be alone if Ariel's fucking boy toy storms up threatening to break down the door. But anyway. Just gimme your shit so you don't have to carry it into the club. Did you want to talk to Dante?"

"Yeah, I did," Severus said, while Bella handed Lauren the bags and carefully slid the guitar from her back.

"Well, he should be at the bar, or at least in his office," Lauren said. "See you guys later," she added, disappearing momentarily while she stowed their things under the counter.

As Severus and Bellatrix entered the main part of the club, she leaned in and went up on her toes to put her mouth near Severus' ear. "I can never tell," she teased thickly. "Who she fancies more. I know she likes me, but she has some definite fuck-me vibes for you."

"Don't worry," Severus replied dryly. "It's all for you. She just thinks cozying up to your stepbrother is going to make you like her."

Bellatrix laughed.

"Dante!" Severus called, nearing one of three bars spaced out in the room. A man was standing on the surface of the bar, fixing an arrangement of decorative liquor bottles set up on a high shelf on the wall. He had slightly baggy jeans that seemed in danger of slipping down to his knees, especially with the heavy length of chain gracing his hip. He glanced around, caught sight of the apparent stepsiblings, and after putting the finishing touches on the bottles he carefully jumped down.

"Trevor," Dante said warmly. "And Anne," he added, leaning over the bar. She stepped up and leaned forward as well so he could brush a kiss against one of her cheeks. Dante was good-looking enough, but he endeared himself to every girl - gay or straight, single or taken or not even interested - purely by being sweet.

"That's my sister, man," Severus warned.

"Yeah, and you hate her," Dante said.

"Hmmm," Severus replied. "True enough. Am I working tomorrow?"

"Um, I don't think so, no," Dante said, starting to wipe the counter. "Why? Did you need to?"

"Yeah," Severus said, ruffling the hair at the back of his head, looking slightly embarrassed. "We don't really have any place to stay, can't afford it for much longer. Crashing at Lauren's tonight, but I'll need some extra hours, if you can get me any."

"Yeah, it's not a problem," Dante said. It was true that Dante was a bartender, but he was also one of the three managers that ran the place - and the friendliest one, too. "I'll just fix some hours up for you. Jordan won't mind."

"Is Jordan around?" Bellatrix asked, shooting Severus a mocking look, which he ignored. Jordan was another manager, who was also head of security - a big butch of a man who was no-nonsense at best. He was always very nice to Bellatrix, but he also had a tendency to shout at Severus, pour beer on him, or have him thrown out of the club for imaginary reasons (of course, Severus always just waited for a few minutes until someone like Lauren just let him back in). The only reason Jordan never docked Severus' pay was because he was Bellatrix's financial support most of the time, and Jordan wouldn't do anything to cut into that.

Dante snickered. "No, he's not around," he said. "He got hit real bad last night so he's off recuperating. I'm surprised you guys weren't in."

"We had things to do," Severus said, shrugging.

"You mean you had someone to do?" Dante suggested, smirking.

"You're smooth, Dante," Severus said, rolling his eyes. "Real smooth."

"You know, Trevor," Dante said, "You're a real jackass."

"I know and I admit it freely," Severus replied coolly. "But you're just a fairy that tries to hide it."

"My God," Bellatrix said before Dante could respond, hopping up to seat herself on a barstool and rolling her eyes. "Ignore him, Dante. You should hear about some of the gay shit Trevor's pulled-"

Severus shoved her smartly off the barstool.

"So I'll be here tomorrow night," Severus said.

Dante saluted him. "That you will be, my fine homoerotic friend."

Bellatrix had recovered by this time, reclaiming her spot on the stool, acting as if she hadn't just tumbled painfully to the floor. "Can you get me a coke, Dante?" she asked. Dante nodded and went off, so she turned to Severus. "I'll stick around and be endearing," she said, "You go off. I'll meet you here in two hours, or at the corner in three."

"Right," Severus said, plucking up her sunglasses from where they perched atop her head. He nodded to Dante, who was returning, waved a goodbye to the young woman who was cleaning sticky tabletops - a newcomer whose name he hadn't bothered to learn yet - and left, passing the slumbering Lauren on his way out.

Once outside, Severus slipped on the sunglasses - which were technically his, but that was before Bella decided they looked fabulous on her - and glanced around at the crowds. His task of having deposited Bella at the club complete, he was now free to do, well, whatever he felt he needed to do.

Life as a runaway convict made for a lot of lying, but that was fine - Severus was a good liar. It was Bellatrix who always had problems with it. 'Are you a Death Eater, a loyal follower of He Who Must Not Be Named?' they'd asked her, and she'd looked them right in the eye. 'Yes,' she'd said, simply, and that had been that.

Severus lied easily; it rolled off his tongue as if it were born truth. Ironically he had real trouble speaking honestly; it had been imbedded in him from the very start that speaking his mind got him nowhere, and that uncovering the truth only bred discomfort.

And so it was mainly Severus who made the personas that he and Bella chose to use, and it was usually he who kept up appearances. Bellatrix was often silent, speaking only to the ones she designated as her chosen friends. It actually worked to her advantage, and endeared her to those she finally spoke with; it made them feel special. But Severus was the real talker, and Severus was the one that got them from place to place in one piece.

Being social was never something he'd been good at, but survival had forced him to adapt - and, to his surprise, it had come easily. Away from Britain and the magical world, and the taboo that followed him wherever he went, the general dislike he garnered from his appearance and manner - Severus Snape, decades after his school years as an oddball, could be popular.

With wizarding blood running through his veins, and with a wardrobe change from mature black robes to torn jeans and holed t-shirts, he looked to be in his mid-twenties. He was thin, almost anorexic-looking, and was the perfect mix of anger and resentment to endear him to the right crowd. He'd taken up guitar, which had helped his stories. It had come to him with ease; he was a fast learner, and his fingers were long enough to manage the chords easily. He was still at best rather shoddy at it, but that just explained to those who wondered why he wasn't a famous guitar god yet.

Bellatrix was harder to explain. Azkaban had aged her; they publicly blamed heroin, and ordeals far worse. They concocted long stories, just in case they were put in a position to explain themselves. Sometimes she was his cousin, or a friend, or some chick that he was stuck with and didn't feel like shaking off. Currently, here in L.A., they kept to the stepsibling story, and, true to the form of any mysteriously traveling newcomers, skirted their past: mentioning here and there their quarrelsome parents, the overdoses, the rehab. It caused the right amount of sympathy and wariness, and worked quite well to their advantage.

But Severus surprised himself. He was not, by nature, a friendly person. Often when he worked under his assumed disguise he was casual and flippant in company, and he knew it was a front; but now, lately, he found himself being genuinely social. And of course often the old bitterness would resurface, because it was his nature to dwell, and Severus would truly become an asshole of great proportions - but that fit into his persona, so it was alright. Together, he and Bellatrix were perfectly imperfect.

Severus had to keep up appearances. He checked his watch, then set off down the street, deciding to walk rather than take a bus. When settling in a new city it all boiled down to who you knew, so Severus was always quick to establish connections. Dante had been an early one, and Lauren was an unexpected addition, but the one right after that was a young woman by the name of Tera, but everyone called her Twist for reasons he'd yet to discover.

He'd met her in a bookstore. Bella had been off watching movies with Lauren, and Severus had needed to get out and see more of the city - that itchy, antsy feeling of being caged in was driving him mad. Twist had been on her break - she worked in a coffee shop - and was in the New Age section, looking into tarot. Severus had asked her if she knew where the True Crime books were.

Ever since there had always been a tension between them that Severus couldn't just lay down as having sexual roots, and they tended to skirt the topic as often as possible. Despite the general discomfort when they were alone together, however, Twist was a good person to know. She was the sort of girl that was on good terms with nearly everybody, well-liked and untouchable. She lived in a shoddy apartment three blocks down from Lauren's, and whenever she was home it always seemed to be patronised by the most startling types of people imaginable. The first time Severus had ever been there he'd walked into her kitchen and discovered a large, rugged looking man passed out at the table atop a copy of Jane Austen's Emma.

Severus ran his fingers through his hair, already accustomed to the shortness. With long hair he'd always felt a little dragged down, but he'd done it almost on purpose, as a sort of buffer - in the instance they were recognised he could chop it off and attain an entirely new look. Which was, of course, what he had just done.

That, too, was another reason why he felt the need to deposit Bellatrix somewhere else while he went about his business - their own safety had to be considered. He was very aware of the fact that at any second of any day he could be watched, and getting Bellatrix out of the way and out of view protected both him and her from being recognised together. The aurors, he was certain, had managed to get his picture - but he was just as sure that they had been unable to get Bella's, or to even locate her.

He checked his watch, frowning slightly. He was quite sure Twist was working today, and if so then it would be her break soon. If not, he'd just drop by her apartment and see if she was in. She was good company to have. As much of a loner as he used to be, Severus found himself, more than he ever had in his life, enjoying and craving the presence of other people.

He stepped into the café and spotted her immediately, taking orders behind the counter. Her long hair, black with chunks of purple, was pulled back and up into a bun, save for long wisps of fringe that hung around her face. She caught his eye immediately and nodded sharply before going back to her customer. He'd managed, it seemed, to time himself perfectly - it was just at the tail end of the lunch rush, and when he stepped up to the counter to order she informed him to stick around.

"My break's in like, ten minutes," she said, picking up the clear plastic cup for his frappe and quickly jotting down the drink order on its side in a felt pen. It was a large cup, despite the fact she'd only charged him for a tall - the perks of knowing someone in the service industry. "You got great timing, kiddo."

Severus sat down, away from the windows and nearer to the back of the café, and took off his sunglasses. He didn't have long to wait. Soon Twist was sitting down across from him, her apron gone. She picked up his sunglasses and fiddled around with them while he watched her with eyebrows raised.

"Nice hair," she said finally. "Looks good."

"Thank you," he said, reaching over and retrieving the shades. She gave him an amused look, her beautifully shaped lips twisting about, her lip piercings glinting.

"You look so much better with shorter hair," she said mildly. Twist talked in a manner that Severus preferred women to converse - physical to emotional, and not the other way around. When given the choice she grounded on subjects like makeup or clothing, rather than emotionally charged tear fests. "Like, you looked all scraggly with long hair."

"That's what Anne said," Severus agreed. "I cut her hair, too. Looks better than mine."

"Ooh," Twist purred. "And the hair you cut yourself always looks the best. Or the worst, but sometimes even then it's in style. So what are your plans for tonight?"

"Why?" Severus asked, using his straw to stir the contents of his drink. "Are you asking me out?"

"Not really," Twist said mildly. "Asking you in, rather. I don't work tonight and I'm not in the mood for going out. You aren't working at the club, are you?"

"I'm off until tomorrow," Severus said, shrugging. "But I'm staying at Lauren's tonight. Anne and I. We have to protect her in case her roomie's bastard boyfriend shows up."

"Ra-heely," Twist said, wrinkling her nose somewhat in distaste. "I've met that guy. Real asshole."

"You could probably come over and hang out, if you want," Severus offered. "Lauren won't mind. Lauren never minds."

"She's a real sweetheart," Twist agreed with a sigh. "But if you're right about the boyfriend she might welcome the company anyway. But something tells me you're not just doing her a favour."

Severus shrugged again. "I admit it; I'm running low," he said mildly.

"Will you be okay?"

"Working extra shifts tomorrow. Should be fine."

"I can lend you a few bucks if you want."

"Darling," Severus sighed. "I already owe you twenty. We'll be fine, really. I'm getting paid at the end of the week."

"Well, if you insist," Twist replied, reaching over the table and ruffling his hair, then smoothing it down expertly so his long fringe fell over one eye. "You and your stubborn male ego."

"I wouldn't say that," Severus responded dryly. "I had arguably low testosterone at school."

"Oh, tish," Twist said. "Your testosterone levels are just fine, fine manly specimen that you are."

"You sure know how to make a man feel good about himself," Severus remarked.

Twist grinned, wadded up a paper napkin, and threw it at him.