Aftermath

Fuck.

"War damaged those involved, always had."
~anonymous

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"Fuck.", I said, grabbing my bag to dig through it for the tenth time, the queue behind me getting longer with every additional second.

"Language, Madam.", the old cashier scolded me, conscious of the annoyed people staring at my fumbling. After muttering a 'Sorry.', the cashier continued to tell me what I really didn't want to hear. Stupid Muggles.

"You know, you don't have to give me the exact prize. I am very well able to give you your change. At least, this is what I am doing the whole day. For 20 years now."

"But I'm sure I have this bloody.... sorry, this absolutely gorgeous coin in my bag.", I replied, showing my own annoyance with the audible sarcasm in my voice.

"Just give me twenty pounds and I will pay you back. Dont make it more complicated than it is."

"Fine.", I pouted, handing over the note with a dark look on my face. The day has been terrible before I got here, and this entire situation didn't make it any better.

"Here. A penny for you, freedom for me. Now leave, before the queue behind you starts a mutiny." How funny, really.

Without another word and a glare towards the cashier, I left the store, making my way down the street. Only two blocks away from my home I noticed a strange line of dark magic floating through the streets, leading to an unknown district of Muggle London.

Yes, I still live in the Muggle world. Though I'm working for the Ministry now as 'Chief Inspector Hermione Jean Granger' -great title, I know-, I wanted to keep the connection to the one thing I cared for since my childhood. After the war, there was no perspective, no way for me. So, I got a cute little flat, near the center of London with the money my parents left me.

Hidden in the shadows beneath the tall Manors, I chased after the slowly disappearing, blurred line of pulsing magic. I followed it to the very last street of London. The old, ruined house was even more frightening due to the abandoned street leading to it.

I quickly got into the front garden that was bigger than the garden in which I played 'Hide and Seek' throughout my childhood. The path guiding the visitor to the huge front door was overgrown and barely recognizable. Hesitantly, I knocked at the wooden door. After the second try I pushed the hard material aside and stepped over the threshold.

An incredible loud squeaking from the door echoed through the grand entrance hall. The furniture was reduced to a table standing in one corner and an antique looking vase in the opposite one. But the person laying in the middle of the room, face towards the marbled floor and a pool of blood spreading in the grooves of the once white stone tiles, immediately got all my attention.

After a second of shock I rushed to his side -the stature of the person indicated that it must be a man- and grabbed hold of one shoulder to turn him around. When his face was revealed, a new expression of disbelief and horror graced my face. The one and only, Severus Snape, was laying in front of me, scaring the shit out of my otherwise professional mind.