Severus and the Doctor

The Woman At The Bar

The long mahogany bar gleamed glossy under the dim lights. He stood tall in a black t-shirt, black jeans, and comfortable boots as he dried glasses with a towel that he had tucked in his back pocket.  The bar would open in ten minutes at six o'clock that night.  He sat the glass down and tied back his long black hair in a low pony. Every liquor in its place, fruit and vegetable garnishes each in their spots and cut to his own specifications, juices and sodas lined up and ready to pour. 

"Sev, we ready to go?" called the bar manager Hank as he ambled to unlock the doors

"Yes. Let in the masses" Severus joked drily, in a way that he had taken to doing since taking this job a year ago after the war

As if he didn't care. As if he was calm. As if he was laid back. As if.

The bar had become his second home. He had answered an ad in a Muggle paper, and the owner took a liking to him straightaway. He had the chance to be around people and still remain unseen, working every night from six pm to two am. Mixing drinks and cocktails reminded him of Potion's work: making the exact measurements and taking care to see that each individual step was taken in order for the drink to taste the best. He had even invented several drinks of his own that had become crowd favorites.

When he left the bar, he slept for a few hours in his studio apartment until the nightmares woke him. Then he worked in a small store front that he rented from Hank, selling "herbal remedies" to the ordinary citizens of Denver, Colorado. Business boomed, he kept busy and didn't have to think about the past. He needed to stay busy or else the thoughts took over. The panic would overcome him. The depression would hang heavy like a rain cloud.

It was better to be busy.

The bar wouldn't be filled until around eight, when the college night classes would let out, the couples on dates would be done with dinner, and the night crowd would begin to crawl out of their homes. He sat on a stool with his book and waited.

Eight o'clock rolled around and the regulars trickled in. Working men and women who wore their uniforms, college kids who needed a cheap beer, and parents who needed to reclaim a part of their independence away from their children.

And finally, one solitary woman who walked in every night since he began this job between nine and eleven thirty. Hank called her Doc. She ordered two scotch and sodas while huddled in the corner bar seat with a book until one am. Hank informed him she drank for free and while she always left him a great tip, he had no other answers.

The crowds seemed to know and respect her, acknowledging her yet giving her space. She didn't engage in unnecessary chatter, but she wasn't rude. He understood that.

"Sev, my man! That focus drink you made me was the best!" complimented one of the college students, Alvin, reaching out to shake his hand over the bar.

Sev. A name that seemed cool, much more intriguing than his real name. A new persona. A shield to his insecurities. People liked Sev better than Severus. Hell, he liked Sev better than his old self.

"I'm glad it worked well. Tell me when you need a refill" he told Alvin, knowing that the mixture would work, it was a wit sharpening potion.

Muggles didn't believe in magic, but they believed in herbal remedies. They believed in natural cures and homeopathy. He loved his magic, it was something that set him apart but it was also something that he needed a break from.

Admittedly, he waited on Doc to come in. She kept to herself, caramel brown hair plaited in a French braid, heart shaped face leaning against the wall as she sipped her drinks and read from massive books, highlighter or pen in hand.