Draco Malfoy blinked as he looked down at the array of shot glasses in front of him. "Something stronger." indeed, he thought wryly. He felt a little like a skipper on the vast blue ocean - everything was changing, swirling down below him. But if he looked too closely, he'd fall in, and get swallowed up in the cold cruel depths. It was easy enough to find the lies - the trouble was accepting that they were lies. That thousands of simple, small truths
Hermione had calmed down during her window shopping, but as afternoon's light faded towards evening, she found she didn't want to return to Grimmauld Place. It was free out here, with the wind, and the faint shreds of birdsong (probably wrens). People were here, but they didn't press on her. She found, suddenly, that she wanted to hear people. To listen to the hum of people talking about nothing - or everything, but nothing important. Along the other side of the street were a variety of public houses. Perfect.
Draco Malfoy studied the easy familiarity of the Muggles at the bar - old salts all, their beards as bushy as their skins were swarthy. They talked with a companionable air that Malfoy envied. Slytherins tended to be too suspicious for all that chumminess, but Draco wondered, suddenly, what it would be like. After all, here he was - and no one knew who he was. Why, he could jump on the table and dance a jig! Or he could sing a bawdy song, the likes of which would make old men blush. He was definitely too drunk, Draco thought with some chagrin.
Hermione Granger looked at the Drowned Rat, and with a frown walked onward, the loud rap music entirely not to her taste, now or ever. The next bar looked like it was waiting, a cat ready to pounce on mice. But she wasn't looking for a dance, or men to harass her. Just some peace and quiet, and people who didn't even think to look at her. At the corner of the street, she found the Red Bantam, and a glance in the window showed a bunch of old men chatting it up with each other, the bartender looking casual and at ease. There we go, she thought, entering the pub without another thought.
Draco Malfoy eyed the woman entering the pub. She seemed cold, somehow - was it her porcelain face, or the black hair that framed it? She sat with her back to the wall, near the center of the room. She didn't sit like someone waiting for someone else, and she seemed content to simply drink water. Yet, she tipped as if she was drinking a fine red. For such a cold looking woman, she looked refined - graceful - and relaxed in the warm half-darkness of the public house.
Hermione Granger enjoyed listening to the increasingly ridiculous tall tales coming from the bar. The men didn't seem to care that nearly every word was a lie - hell, if she asked, they'd tell her it was all part of the fun. There were fish stories, and brawling, and impossible actions done to win women - and even more impossible tricks done with the women they won. Boasting and bravado, but all in good fun. It was relaxing, to listen to people whose faces weren't pinched with worry - whose eyes sparkled all the more for each other's good company. Granger looked at the blond, sitting at the last table, his back against the wall. That was a man, if her books told her true, that had a quest. Oh, it was a fanciful idea, indeed, she thought with a laugh (and where was my party of trusty companions?) - but there was still something about him. Dark shadows lurked in those bright blue eyes - clear as the midsummer sky. The long line of shot glasses promised a drunk - but the way his hand took the latest libation told a different story. Either a man well used to potent drink, or a man who'd been here longer than even he thought.
"Severus, come quick!" had been the words Molly had said. His face still calm as ice, his heart skipped a beat, thinking of all the possible calamities. Bloodloss, poison, treachery - all had bounced through his head like gumdrops. What he had not expected to find was Potter and Molly and the wolf, with Lupin barring the door to prevent Potter from leaving. Of all the light-blinded ideas!
"Why, in all of creation, am I saddled with fools like these?" Snape drawled to himself, his venomous voice silencing the cacophony. "Whatever is the problem?" he asked.
"It's Hermione!" Potter cried. "She left - and without her wand!"
"And you decided this was worth bothering me about?"
"It's been six hours" Lupin snapped.
"I'm beginning to worry..." Potter said, his green eyes flashing with what looked curiously like remorse.
"If this is you beginning, I shudder to see what the terminal condition would be. It might prove fatal."
"Will you look for her?" Molly asked, wringing her hands.
"Someone had better, before Harry decides it's his job."
"Well, it's certainly not mine." Snape cracked, his entire mien standoffish. "Very well, I will go for a walk. Perhaps it will help me think. Should there be any signs of trouble, I shall investigate."
"Thank you!" Molly cried out, smiling through watery eyes. Gryffindors were easy marks, if you knew how to work them.
"Mister Potter, you are under no circumstances to leave the relative safety of this house, is this understood?"
"Yes sir." Harry replied, and Snape was gratified to see the steadiness in the young man's gaze. Not a flicker of deception. Good, that might hold an hour or two.
[a/n: because neither of them were looking for a friendly companion to drink with...
Snape is ridiculously fun to write.
I do love reviews, and they do keep me on track!]