'Tis The Damn Season.
Chapter One
Hermione walked tiredly down the street towards her destination. Around her, the scene was awash with tinsel, Christmas baubles, twinkling lights and the air was filled with notes of Christmas carols floating in the air. It wasn't snowing, but it was cold and she pulled her scarf a little tighter around her neck as she walked. Before the war, Christmas was one of Hermione's favorite times of year... but not anymore. She sighed as she neared her destination - she was tired from being on her feet all day at the library where she worked, and apparating to Surrey had zapped the remains of her energy. Hermione had taken on the position at the British Royal Library, working as a clerk in the magical literature section not long after she and Ron had broken up. It was a way for Hermione to hide away, distract herself but still keep in contact with the wizarding world... a world which she loved, but was sometimes a painful reminder of the trauma that she had been through, and the people she had lost. She tried not to think of Ron very often as it still made her quite cross - how could he just expect everyone to continue living their lives like nothing had happened, when so much terror, trauma and loss had been experienced? Not more than 6 months had passed after the war when Ron out of the blue, proposed marriage to Hermione.. like it was the most logical thing in the world to do.
"Lets start a family"... Ron had said.. "I love you 'Mione.. lets get married, have a big party and.." Hermione cut him off right then and there. Married? who gets married when they are only 18 years old... only just out of school.. still grieving the war... and then Hermione thought of her parents.. "Just how do you expect me to want to plan a wedding without my parents being here?!" Hermione had sobbed. "Ronald you insensitive, inconsiderate twat! Do you think that a party and popping out a few rugrat's like your mom did will just magically make everyone happy again? Did you think this plan of yours through at all?" Ron stammered.. "Gee 'Mione.. i'm sorry. Forget it then.. just forget i ever said anything".
Hermione sighed as she replayed the conversation over in her mind for what was probably the millionth time. The conversation took place over 2 years ago.. they had tried to carry on together for a while after that, but in the end Hermione couldn't do it anymore. They had split up about 6 months after that awful proposal and Hermione had moved out of the burrow and into Grimmauld Place with Harry. She hadn't spent long there before she had set off in search of her parents, using every free moment she had away from the library, to track them down. She had spent the better part of a year following dead end after dead end before she finally located them in a small town in Australia.. but had her heart shattered all over again when the obliviate curse she had used to protect them.. was unable to be reversed. She had left them where they were and had come home... not that the word home meant much to her anymore.
Living with Harry didn't do much for her spirits either, with Harry and Ginny's happiness a constant reminder of how unhappy she herself was, and so eventually, she found herself a small apartment in a muggle complex in Surrey. It was out of the way, no one knew her, and she was left alone in relative solitude and peace most of the time. She could come and go as she pleased, and often after a long shift at the library she would find herself sitting in the quaint little piano bar a few blocks from her apartment, sipping on a drink while the jazz music that reminded her so much of her Dad's old muggle records, tried to soothe her soul. This was where she was headed now - the general merriment of the season was draining on her and what she needed now was a stiff drink, some alone time and some music that was most definitely not Christmas carols, before she would be somewhat forced into spending yet another Christmas with her pseudo family comprised of Harry, the Weasley's and other members of The Order.
Finally, having reached her destination, she pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped in to the dimly lit establishment. She removed her cloak and gloves, loosened the scarf around her neck and headed towards the counter. The barman greeted her with a smile - "Hi Hermione. The usual?" he asked. Hermione had become a frequent patron since moving around the corner and begrudgingly, had been involved in more than one conversation with the barman - Jeremy, which was how he came to know her name. Hermione nodded, giving a tired smile and motioned with her hand to where she would be sitting. Jeremy poured her a glass of the house red (Merlot) and delivered it to her table. Hermione looked up as he was about to walk away... "Jeremy?" she asked.. "i think i'd like a ploughman's supper tonight too if it isnt too much trouble." The barman nodded and wandered off to the kitchen and she took her seat, laying her cloak carefully over the back of another chair. Hermione took a sip of her wine and then breathed out a sigh as her body started to relax. The jazz band were making soft background noise that to most people would have been unpleasant and hard to follow, but to the discerning ear it was complex, alliterative, mellow and soothing all rolled into one. Hermione had been drawn to jazz at a young age, due to her father's taste in music – but as she grew it became a source of comfort to her, as if the noise in her mind could for once, be both replicated and calmed by the sounds of the instruments being played just so.
She continued sipping her wine until her supper showed up, and indicated to the barman that she would take another glass. Jeremy delivered the merlot to her table and she gave a quiet thanks, before reaching for some bread and cheese and popping it into her mouth. She closed her eyes, letting the music settle into her skin and a calmness washed over her. Hermione relished the little bit of peace and tranquillity that coming here provided her – she never brought anyone else here; she considered it her own little secret. She had spoken occasionally to the musicians, as one often did when they were recognised as a regular, and as someone who appreciated their craft – but mostly, Hermione kept to herself. Her thoughts began to stray towards the upcoming Christmas affair that she would be subjected to at the Burrow and as it did, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She opened her eyes and quickly glanced around the room – what had triggered that response? Sure, she wasn't overly looking forward to spending the day at Ron's house whilst he flaunted his latest girlfriend, but it wasn't uncomfortable enough to trigger her like that. Unexpectedly, her eyes found a man sitting to her left who had not been there before. She couldn't see his face, but his black clothing and long black hair bore a striking resemblance to…. Professor Snape.
There is absolutely no way. She said to herself. The probability of both of us ever being in the same bar in Surrey of all places… impossible. Get a grip Hermione. She chastised, trying not to stare at the man. She reached for her wine glass, gulping down a few mouthfuls as she tried to calm herself. But as the man turned to receive his drink from the barman, she caught a glimpse of his face and almost choked in her wine. "All right there Hermione?" Jeremy asked, looking over at her as she coughed. Dammit. At the sound of her name, the gentleman in question turned sharply, locking eyes with her. There was no denying it…. Professor Snape was here, in her jazz bar. Staring. At. Her.
