Evening Schnapps

New note: 5/19/08
For those of you just being introduced to this story, welcome. However, if you are one of those wonderful readers who stuck with me for the first 19 chapters, only to have me abandon you, I am deeply sorry to have failed you. I have a more detailed description of what happened at the beginning of chapter 20. I have returned to complete this tale, and promise not to abandon you again. For obvious reasons, this story line is too far gone to try to bring it into DH compliance, which was released a few months after I had to drop this project. Therefore, I've chosen to maintain compliance to HBP for the duration.
Thanks for your patience.


A/N: Better late than never, here is a completely different take on the “Snape Walks Into a Bar” Challenge from last year on AFF.

For a refresher, the rules are at the bottom.

Some helpful vocabulary;

Yurt n. 1) A circular, domed, portable tent used by nomadic peoples of central Asia. 2) A wood framed, cloth-walled structure built and used by backcountry skiers in the American Rocky Mountains, designed to have a small wood-burning stove and maintain it’s structural integrity when buried in heavy snow.

Telemark n. A downhill turn performed on cross-country skis, in which the outside knees are bent, the inside heel is lifted, and the weight is on the outside ski, which is advanced ahead of the other and angled inward until the turn is complete.

J.K. Rowling is the owner of all except specific characters, situations, and plot bunnies that are unique to this story. I make no money, but lots of satisfaction from taking out her characters and playing with them for a while before putting them back.

Many thanks to my über-beta SignoraAligheri, and my sweetie Evan! They just prove that you really can’t do anything in this world without people looking out for you.

Evening Schnapps

Chapter 1- Snape Walks into a Bar

Dusk settles into a tiny mountain town, lending the snowy streets a purple hue, which accentuates the warm yellow lights streaming down from the Muggle businesses that line the road. In the space between two buildings a subtle ‘pop’ heralds the arrival of a tall man; he steps out of the shadows, and walks a few doors down. Stopping outside of an establishment that appears to have some life inside, the man takes a deep breath and after a moment’s hesitation, Snape walks into a bar.

-------

Pausing in the entrance to stomp the snow off his boots, and remove his heavy, black, wool coat, he glanced up at his reflection in the black glass wall of the entranceway. He examined his Muggle jeans, black sweater and white turtleneck peeking out at his neck and wrists, and then he glanced around the bar. He resented feeling so nervous; after all, he was an experienced spy. After working the line between both sides, spying in the Muggle world shouldn’t present any great danger. Giving a little sigh, quietly relieved he had selected Muggle clothing that appeared to be appropriate, he moved over and sat at the bar. A young lady with short blonde hair and a fine gold ring pierced through her lower lip was working the bar. Severus Snape reached up to run a hand through his black hair, removing some errant snow, while he waited for the girl. She finished pouring her drinks and moved over to him.

“What can I get for you?” she chirped, giving him a smile.

Glancing at the rows of bottles behind her for something he might recognize, he spotted a bottle of something he had shared with Minerva McGonagall in her office a few weeks earlier.

“Glenmorangie”, he said. He smiled and hoped that his face looked relaxed, and not too scary.

It would not do to give this young lady the creeps; he was hoping to gain her confidence. She didn’t seem particularly perturbed as she turned to grab the bottle, in fact, she appeared to be blushing a tiny bit as she picked up a glass and poured him two fingers worth. He watched as she nibbled on her lower lip, playing with the little gold ring. While he found facial piercing disturbing, he did have to admit to himself that the effect was quite fetching. She walked over to a glass crock at the far end of the bar, and pulled at the spout, filling a little pitcher with good water. She returned and placed the scotch and pitcher of water in front of him.

Severus raised an eyebrow at her, looking up questioningly.

“Glenmorangie isn’t ordered often around here,” the girl said, blushing. “We only have one customer who drinks it and she insists on the spring water.”

She reached for the pitcher to remove it, but a strong hand settled gently on her wrist. Severus looked her in the eyes and shook his head.

“I just wasn’t expecting the service.” He smiled. “It’s perfect.”

She gave him a bright grin, blushed a little again, and went off to attend other customers.

-----

For some time, Severus sat quietly at the bar sipping the scotch and water. Weeks earlier, he had sat with Minerva in her Headmistresses office. She had offered him a drink and expecting Ogden’s Old Firewhisky, he had accepted. He watched as Minerva slowly made her way around her desk to a cabinet along the wall. The doors opened as she approached and while she fussed there pouring drinks, Severus contemplated the damage done to her the night Albus died. She had been hit by several hexes at once, and while she appeared to have mostly recovered, she still moved very slowly at times. She turned and set two glasses of firewhisky on the little table beside him along with a small pitcher. She lowered herself gingerly into the seat next to him and reached out, picked up the pitcher and poured a bit of water into each glass. Severus had scowled, miffed that she would weaken perfectly good firewhisky with water, but had restrained himself from complaining, figuring that her constitution just couldn’t take the fiery substance anymore.

‘Still,’ he had grumbled to himself. ‘She didn’t have to ruin my drink, as well.’

Therefore, he had been quite surprised when he took his first sip. It wasn’t firewhisky at all. Minerva had smiled at his reaction. She told him that it was a Muggle scotch, and that the spring water was added to reduce the alcohol burn, and allow the palate to experience the earthy peat and sharp ash flavors, which good scotch has. She had told him that it had been her preferred ‘evening schnapps’ for years. Severus had agreed; it was a fine drink.

Severus watched as young men and women came in and out of the bar. Most ordered beer, and judging from the large copper urns behind the glass wall to the side, the beer was brewed right here. There was something reminiscent of a potions laboratory in the brewing room beyond the glass. The young Muggle couples and groups all seemed to be enjoying the evening.

Although Snape wasn’t there for fun, he could appreciate the scotch and the atmosphere, and slowly found himself relaxing. He smiled absently when two young men settled down at the bar near him, they smiled back and began talking to the bartender. Here was a place where the demons of his past could let him rest for a few minutes. No witches or wizards looking at him with untrusting and accusing eyes, no annoying dunderheads to shepherd through potions making, just people enjoying their lives with no idea of the terror that had gripped the Wizarding world around them just a few years earlier.

Severus sighed with momentary contentment; Voldemort was gone, not just gone, but well and truly dead. He examined his forearm as he slid his own sleeve up to his elbow. The skin where the Dark Mark had been was now clear, white tissue with bluish veins protruding slightly above the muscles and tendons of his wrist.

He would never forget the pain that had come when Harry had killed Voldemort, it had been worse than the Cruciatus Curse. In a devious scheme designed for him to survive any attack, Voldemort had made sure that damage from spells against him would be diverted out to those linked to him through the Dark mark. It did not work as Voldemort had planned though, and only the pain was transferred, not the damage. He had felt every ounce of pain that Voldemort had felt when he was dying, all channeled through the Dark Mark on his forearm. But, when the moment came that He was gone, so was the pain. Blinking back the tears that had blinded him, he had looked at his arm through the sleeve that he had shredded in his blind struggles against the pain, trying to rip the pain out of his skin, and he had been shocked to see that the Mark was dissipating before his eyes. That night, Severus had sank to his knees and wept.

Smoothing his hand over the clear skin once more, he was pulling his sleeve back down when the girl returned to see if he wanted more.

He smiled at her again. “Yes, I think I could use some more of my ‘evening schnapps’,” he said, remembering Minerva’s phrase.

The girl stopped and looked into his eyes, he could feel her sizing him up for a brief moment.

“You must know ‘Mione,” she said with an uncertain smile, while biting on her lip, making the fine gold glint in the light.

He cocked an eyebrow and sat up on his stool, feeling a flash of hope and surprise. ‘It couldn’t be this easy,’ he thought to himself.

“I am an old Professor of hers,” he offered. “I was hoping to catch up with her, as I heard that she was spending time around here.” He smiled what he dearly hoped was a warm smile. Time and trials had given him a dour face and an abrupt demeanor; sometimes it felt like he had forgotten how to be polite.

The girl grinned and leaned in across the bar. “She comes in here once a week, but,” her smile slipped a little, “she was just in this afternoon, so she probably won’t be in again until next week.”

Severus allowed some of the disappointment he felt to creep into his face, but held the annoyance tightly in check. “I have to go back home before then, you wouldn’t happen to know where she lives do you?”

The girl shook her head, “I’m more of a resort girl, but they will know.” She indicated the young men next to him. As he turned to face them, she called over the noise in the pub.

“Hey, Mike! You know the way to ‘Mione’s yurt?”

Mike turned around and grinned, “Yeah, Muriel. It’s out by Raspberry Bowl.”

She narrowed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Come on, Mike. You know that means nothing to me, care to be more specific?”

Cocking his eyebrow, he glanced at his friend and rolled his eyes. He looked back to her and said, ”Why, Muriel? You don’t do backcountry. You’d never make it back there.”

She blushed at what Severus gathered to be a slight, “No, I guess I wouldn’t, but this is a friend of ‘Mione’s and he’s hoping to catch her before he has to leave town.”

Mike looked over at Severus and looked him up and down. Finally, he appeared to come to a decision and stuck out his hand, “I’m Michael, and this is Rafael, everyone just calls him Raf.” He indicated the other young man, who tilted his beer towards Severus. “What exactly brings you out in search of ‘Mione?”

Severus swallowed his annoyance at the presumption of the young man, and managed to keep a friendly look on his face. Several plausible falsehoods ran through his brain, but instinct told him they wouldn’t work. Finally, he settled on a half-truth.

“Her old professor and friend, Minerva, isn’t doing very well and is asking her to visit. We haven’t been able to reach her by post, so Minerva has asked me to come find her.”

Severus watched the Muggle’s face, looking for a hint of his reaction. Being in a Muggle town alone, he would refrain from casting Legilimens to gain the information if he could get it from him willingly. If he failed at that, he could always use such Slytherin tactics on him later, perhaps in the dark alley he had Apparated into earlier.

Michael, however, was just trying to remember through his buzz what his friend had told him of her childhood in England. Finally, he decided that Minerva had been the teacher that ‘Mione had told him about. He never did find out much about her past, but she had told him that she missed a teacher named Minerva.

“That’s a long flight to make, she must be in pretty bad shape for you to travel all this way.”

Severus just nodded, fighting to maintain his calm exterior, hoping the kid would just spit out the information he needed. He wanted to get back home. Muggles gave him a headache.

“OK, you do much backcountry skiing?” Michael asked, looking him up and down again.

Severus frowned, “Skiing? Ahh… no, I can’t say that I have that pleasure.”

Raf grinned at him over his beer. “This isn’t going to be easy on you, Bro.” He said winking. “You got any gear?”

Severus was starting to feel a bad headache creeping over the top of his skull.

“No.”

Getting impatient he thought to himself that he wouldn’t need any ‘gear’, but realizing that he wasn’t going to get directions to Hermione’s house without listening to this young man first, he sat back and prompted. “Unfortunately, I really need to see her, what do you suggest?”

Mike cocked an eyebrow at him, and Severus tried not to grin, it was like looking in a mirror.

“Well,” Mike said, frowning. “Even if you don’t ski, you just can’t get there without the right gear. So, in the morning, you can go to this shop,” he said, handing him a small card he had pulled out of his wallet. “Ask for Gabriel and tell him you need snowshoes and poles to rent. Tell him that Mike and Raf sent you in, and he’ll hook you up.”

“All right,” Severus said, trying to remain patient. He took the card and slipped it into his pocket. “Then what?”

Mike reached over and grabbed a napkin from the bar.

“Hey, Muriel. Got a pen?”

For the next hour, Severus listened and watched as the young man drew carefully and gave him detailed instructions on how to find Hermione Granger.

------

Early the next morning, Severus woke with a start. Looking around the room, he took a few deep breaths trying to still his pounding heart. He was unaccustomed to the bright sunlight, streaming in through the windows of the room he had rented the night before, as his dungeons were anything but bright. His eyes watered as the white morning light was compounded, intensified, and reflected up off the snow. He hadn’t thought to draw the curtains the night before. It just wasn’t his habit.

He had fallen asleep fully clothed, and his skin itched from the impressions the seams of his jeans had made on his thighs and hips, but it was nothing compared to the pounding of his head. Sighing, he reached under the pillow for his wand, got up and tapped his miniature trunk sitting on the desk. It popped up to regular size and he rummaged through it. Finding a Pepper-Up potion, he drank it down in one gulp, groaning. He had spent so much time with the men at the bar getting the details needed to find her, and staying long enough after to appear friendly and non-threatening, that he had drunk far more scotch than he had realized.

He stepped back from the windows, cursing the bright light and walked over to the small bathroom. He looked around in surprise, there was no bath and only a stall with several fixtures at hip level and one more at face level. He reached in and turned one of the lower knobs, water began to pour from the top fixture. He jumped back, cursing as the water hit his arm; it was bitterly cold. He turned the other knob and got his hand out of the way as the water streamed out even faster. After a few moments, he stuck his hand back into the stream. It was a little warmer, and seemed to be warming rapidly.

He undressed, once again impressed at the simplicity of Muggle clothing, unlike the rows upon rows of the tiny covered buttons of his robes, these were very practical. Unfortunately, he shivered in the cold morning air; they were nowhere as warm as his heavy wool robes he wore in the deep dungeons of Hogwarts. Those layers of wool kept him warm, and the white linen shirt he wore underneath them kept his body cool and dry in the steamy potions classroom. He reached back into the stall and tentatively stuck his hand into the water stream. It was delightfully hot in the cold room. He stepped into the hot water and felt the stream of water pound into knotted muscles. Severus groaned as the hot water sluiced over his skin, warming it. The steam from the hot water rose and soon clouded the little room. Wary of the loss of visibility, he reached out and slid the little glass window next to the stall open. The cold air from outside swiftly flowed into the room and began clearing out the steam.

Severus moved back under the stream of hot water and began scrubbing down with the soap he had found wrapped in paper on the counter, along with a tiny bottle of shampoo. While he rinsed his body, he lathered his hair and finally, propping his hands up along the top of the tile, he stood leaning against the wall letting the hot water pound into his scalp and run down his sides. The contrast of the cold air and hot water on his skin felt wonderful. He had always been a man of contrasts, dark/light, evil/good, hard/soft, hot/cold, he enjoyed the line between them all, for it was there that he felt most comfortable. After he was clean and could no longer justify wasting more time in the shower, he turned off the water and snapped the little window shut. Grabbing some towels he scrubbed down swiftly and moved back out into the bright room to get dressed.

He dressed in his normal robes, judging from the instructions and hand-drawn map lying out on the desk, Hermione was living in seclusion in the snowy mountains sitting high above him. During the conversation the previous night, it had almost sounded like she was alone up there. Severus scowled, becoming irritated again. When Voldemort had died, the Dark Mark on Severus’ arm was not the only one to disappear. All of the Death Eaters had become free from that singular curse. Unfortunately, that had meant that only those Death Eaters who had been seen actively engaged in fighting, without their masks, had been convicted and sentenced to Azkaban.

Severus had only escaped that fate when Professor Dumbledore’s portrait had testified to the Wizengamot that the Potions Master was indeed working for him. He had, in fact, struck Dumbledore down by his own orders. Severus had been at his wits end, having been bound by an Unbreakable Vow to help Draco Malfoy. Dumbledore had detailed the Vow and Severus’ dilemma, and had explained that his own death was what had set into motion the events that allowed Potter to finally destroy Voldemort.

The final detail that swayed the Wizengamot, was that Dumbledore admitted to coercing a second Unbreakable Vow from Severus, one that bound the young Professor to kill the older one, before the Malfoy boy could. Minerva McGonagall had been the Bonder, but Dumbledore had then extracted a Wizard’s Oath preventing her from revealing it to anyone, ever. Severus was freed. However, there were still many former Death Eaters drifting around. Some were suspected, but as no one had seen them participate, they could not be convicted. Others, Severus had only seen with their masks on, during occasions when they attended Voldemort. Severus worried that while Voldemort no longer posed a direct threat, some rogue Death Eaters, who weren’t relieved to be free of the Dark Mark and their evil Lord, might seek revenge. Hermione would be a prime target. Allowing herself to be alone was the worst thing she could do.

Severus pulled on his heavy cloak, studying the map. He looked again out the window and up into the mountains for a moment. He glanced back at the map, studying the clearing that he had been assured was open and right near the ‘yurt’, at least that was what the pretty bartender Muriel had called her place. He formed the image in his mind and prepared to Disapparate. With a soft ‘pop’ he disappeared from the room. A few moments later, he Apparated and looked around at his surroundings.

He was still in the room at the inn.

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A/N:

Here is the refresher on the rules of the challenge by Vampire_Exotica.


“Snape walks into a bar....
* The story must begin and partly revolve around Snape walking into a bar / pub and the words 'Snape walks into a bar' must be contained fully with the first three sentences of the fic.
* Hermione must be one of the following: - in her last year of Hogwarts
- Working at Hogwarts
- Studying at a university
- Or training with Ron and Harry to become an Auror.
* Hermione and Snape hate each other to begin with but with the help of alcohol
they begin to become very flirtatious friends.
* Must have parings are: - HG/SS
* Harry and Ron don’t disown or hate Hermione and Snape’s relationship.
* Hermione and Snape don’t fall in love with in the first week. (They’ve been at each others throats for years... give them a few months)

* If you choose to have Voldemort alive you must at some point in the fiction kill him off. (A nice drunken battle might be interesting. Hmmm Voldemort killed by alcohol poisoning...)
*Snape must secretly enjoy teaching potions
* Oh and you must enjoy yourself. Room for a few laughs here so go ahead.
Please let me know if you accept the challenge and post the link in the review page! Thank you!”