This is my first ever attempt at fanfiction so any constructive criticism is welcome! I do not own any of the characters in this story. This storyline follows the movie more than the book.

Hermione Granger was the worst person in the world.

She absentmindedly scooched her bar stool closer to the long wooden bar, hoping to make herself smaller. It had been eight months since the war ended, eight months since the Dark Lord had fallen. She had played an instrumental role in bringing down the reign of Tom Riddle, and the months surrounding the war had been a whirlwind of publicity and fame.

But now, eight months later, people were looking to move on with their lives. The wizarding world was ready to rebuild their broken communities and set a foundation for a brighter future. With this metamorphosis, Hermione had comfortably fallen into anonymity. For a moment things quieted and Hermione was forced to think of life after survival.

It was in the quiet moments that Hermione came to a horrific realization. It was this realization that made her a truly horrid individual. Hermione woke up one morning and rolled from her side to her back, looking over and seeing a flash of red on the pillow beside her. Ron slept peacefully, his mouth wide open and drool falling onto her light blue pillow case. His breathing came out in strong huffs and there was the occasional choking snore from his intake of breath.

Hermione stared at Ron, took in the smell of his dried sweat and morning breath, and her chest constricted. Hermione braced herself as her stomach dropped. She came to the realization the Ronald Weasley was not the man she wanted to be with.

In the years leading up to the war, Ron had taught Hermione far more about loyalty and consistency than she could have ever learned from a book. Ron, who was constantly in the backdrop of everyone's lives, embraced his role as best friend, brother, and son. Ron rarely asked for attention but rather was there when it mattered most. You couldn't depend on him to show up to study hall on time, but you could rest assured Ron would drop the everything to be by your side when chaos struck.

It was this quality that made Hermione fall for Ron. She felt so comfortable in his presence. Ron's devotion to her could outshine the sun. It was easy to get swept up in it all.

Then, during the war, Ron had abandoned her and Harry out of displaced jealousy. This forced Hermione and Harry to operate on their own. As each day passed, Hermione realized that she could live without Ron. He had taken a piece of her with him when he left, but she could live without it.

When Ron returned, and the war was coming to a head, Hermione never truly processed her feelings about his abandonment. When the war ended, she realized she had never expected to make it out alive. But she was alive, and at that moment she was laying in bed with Ron after a night of fighting for the blankets and unsuccessfully tuning out his snores. They had sex prior to the battle of blankets, but it was so lackluster Hermione could hardly remember any specifics.

So she broke up with him. She broke up with the man who had done nothing but love her, nothing but pine for her, nothing but adore her. He was an incredible man and she wanted nothing to do with him. She was the bloody worst.

It was this self loathing that compelled Hermione to apparate to Muggle London and duck into the first seedy bar she could find. She deserved to be in her current company. The man three stools down had dirty fingernails and was rude to the bartender. To her left was a couple in their mid 30s, with tight acid wash jeans and leather jackets, far more intent on stroking each other's thighs and giggling than they were about the young witch seated beside them.

Hermione longed to reach out to her friends to explain her actions, but Ginny was Ron's sister and Harry was his best friend, she had no claim to them when she was the one to cause so much pain.

Hermione was able to make eye contact with the balding bartender after his last patron demanded what appeared to be his fifth beer of the night. She gave a sad smile and a slight nod to indicate she needed a drink.

"What'll it be, hon?"

Hermione bit her lip. "What kind of wine do you carry?" She asked politely. Hermione was far more accustomed to butterbeer but this bar would have no such concoction. Hermione tried to recall what brand her mother drank, but was coming up blank.

The bartender gave Hermione a patronizing, yet gentle look. "Uh… I think we're carrying two kinds right now. Some type of Chardonnay and a Merlot. Red or White?"

Hermione tilted her head to look around the bartender and saw the mini fridge beneath the bar with a glass door. After seeing the wine came in something similar to a juicebox, Hermione paled.

"On second thought, I'll take a double shot of tequila on the rocks."

The bartender gave Hermione an amused smile and poured her drink. She clearly did not belong here but had no intention of leaving. Where else did she have to go? Her parents were obliviated and there wasn't a piece of her life Ron had not touched. For the first time since Hermione stepped foot on Hogwarts Express her first year, she felt completely isolated.

Hermione quickly downed her drink and requested another. She could feel the liquor slowly web it's fire down her throat and into her stomach. Her body began to loosen and she gazed at the telly, losing herself in muggle media.

Severus Snape had the worst luck.

Severus was not suppose to survive the war. He had dedicated his life to the greater good at every cost to his personal and professional life. Snape's life up until the war had been sacrifice after sacrifice. After losing Lilly, Severus didn't see much purpose to going on. Lilly brought light into his life and without her, he could not face the impending eternal night.

But there was Harry. Snape should not have felt any responsibility for Potter's son, but when he looked into the boy's eyes he could almost smell Lilly's hair. He knew her spirit would never forgive him if he did not do everything in his power to protect the boy. She would've done the same.

So Severus committed his life to Potter's. When Nagini struck, Severus did not feel any fear. He had accepted his fate long ago and was prepared to close out his mortal life. He knew he had done everything he could to bring the war to a close, and had faith the boy would kill the Dark Lord.

Imagine Snape's dismay when he woke up in St. Mungo's three weeks later with two nasty fang marks and residual side effects from the snake's poison. He did not want to go on, but the healers did not give him much off a choice.

Snape recalled a plump old witch assisting the healers by changing the dressing on Snape's neck shortly after he awoke.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Professor Snape. I've been reading all about you in the news. You're quite the hero! There there, lift your chin up just a bit, that's it. Now you won't be able to speak for some time, so just take it easy." The witch dabbed a putrid potion onto Snape's neck. Snape hoped it was the fumes that caused the woman to tear up. "The Daily Prophet did a beautiful piece on your role in the war. I'll bring it in for you tomorrow, what do you say?"

Snape had quite a few biting remarks he wished to say, but his body shook with tremors and his throat burned. He could only take in the world around him. It wasn't suppose to be like this, he wasn't suppose to experience life after the war.

It took six months of physical therapy for Snape to use his voice again and kick the symptoms associated with the bite. Snape no longer shook uncontrollably and he was able to go about his day close to normal.

But there was no normal in the post Voldemort world. There was only the peace. People approached Snape on the sidewalk of Diagon Alley, at the bar of the Three Broomsticks, in the aisles of the Potions stores. Each witch or wizard had their own reason for coming up to Snape, but their voices all ranged from appreciation to admiration. After spending decades alone, Snape could not handle all the attention.

So he ran. He was man enough to admit it. He packed a couple bags and ran off to Muggle London, where he rented out a flat under a fake name and greatly cut back on his use of magic. Hogwarts was in the process of rebuilding. Headmaster McGonagall assured Severus there would be a job waiting for him upon his return, but he had no clue what to do with his life now that he was forced to live it.

Severus broke up the monotony of muggle life by swinging by the bar two blocks from his flat on Tuesdays. This bar, affectionately named 'The Pub,' was questionable enough where his long black hair and scars barely warranted a second look. Snape would take the back corner booth and sit with a book, watching the people of London drown their sorrows in shitty alcohol.

Snape couldn't be too critical though, he was also indulging in their low quality whiskey. The burn of the amber liquid as it ran down his throat, over the spots where Nagini's fangs had pierced through, was practically orgasmic. Snape found comfort in the pain, his most familiar feeling.

Snape crossed his legs and opened his book, but his eyes were darting around the room. He settled on a biker couple shacked up at the bar. The man was already drooling on this woman's ear and the woman was basically feeling up the drooler in the middle of the bar. Snape gave a small grin and waged the woman would be the first to topple from her bar stool. They'd laugh it off and kiss and continue to get intoxicated until they left to hook up or do drugs. Snape liked to think of the lives these people led. He wondered if perhaps he might mimic their lives and create a spot for himself here.

Snape was lost in thought when his former student entered the bar and took a seat next to the couple, her back to Snape.

The warmth of the alcohol quickly subsided and was replaced by icy fear. It started in his stomach and spread to his fingertips. He had to get out of here, he had to run. He had no qualm with Hermione Granger but would support her wholeheartedly if she had qualms about him. Seeing her in muggle London shattered this fragile safe house. He was not prepared to take on the wizarding world when his defenses were down.

Snape quickly downed his drink and placed his bookmark, plotting to sneak out the door. He set his eyes on Granger and prepared to beeline for the door. Just as he tensed to rise from his seat, he watched little Hermione Granger down two shots of tequila in three gulps and request another. The man three stools down eyed here hungrily. She gazed at the television, unbothered.

No, no, no Hermione you fool, he thought to himself. What in Merlin's name are you doing.

Snape settled back into his booth, confident his position was hidden from Hermione's line of vision. He flagged down a passing waitress and requested a refill. Snape eyed the male patrons with contempt, ready to protect Hermione Granger with his life.