III. Wake Up, Dead Man

III – Wake up, Dead Man

Severus was pleased to discover that the Quonset hut had not changed. The tiki torches still listed half-heartedly in the sand outside, and the palm trees still caressed the corrugated iron roof: this was a good sign, Severus thought.

He was not pleased to see that Kat was not behind the bar when he entered. The bookshelf was still there, as well as the couch, the chair, and the tables and chairs littering the interior, but Kat was gone. Severus fought the panic rising in his throat, threatening to choke him. Carefully, trying to control the shaking in his hands, he set aside his coat and rolled up his shirtsleeves. Already, the heat...or was it the panic?...was making him sweat.

He stumbled to the bar and croaked, "Green Label. Bottle." The large white-bearded man behind the bar looked at him with polite disinterest.

"She doesn't carry that, anymore, lad. Not since last May," he said and handed Severus a bottle of Tequila instead. "That'll be thirty-five. American."

Severus didn't care what he was drinking and slapped down his money. The barkeeper looked at him carefully, gave him a glass and warned him to go easy.

Four days later, when Severus finally stopped dry heaving into the sand, he understood why the old man had warned him. Feeling brave enough to reenter the bar, he shook out the crab that had settled into his shirt pocket, found his coat, ran his hands through his hair, and wandered back to the bar.

Upon entering the bar, Severus was pleased to discover that at least the hindquarters of Kat were present. The rest of her was behind the couch talking to something.

"Come on, now, give it over! There you go...ouch! You little . . ."

Severus stopped to admire the view. Wrapped up in this occupation, he did not notice that the profanity had stopped. The silence in the bar was deafening. And then he heard, "I'm coming out from behind this couch. And then I'm going to count to four. When I'm finished you better have a very good explanation of why you're staring at my ass, Papa, and not helping me string this cable." Kat wriggled out from behind the couch and stood up. Whirling around, she placed her hands on her hips.

"Hello, Kat."

Kat drew herself up, closed her mouth and grinned.

"Nemo! You came back!" Severus nodded. "I won't ask what happened to you, because I heard about your little episode with Senor Cuervo earlier this week; any man who drinks that much that fast must be in a hell of a state. Let's get some water into you. When was the last time you ate?"

When Miss Granger had done this, Severus had wanted to flee. When Kat did it, Severus wanted to curl up on her lap like her namesake and shut out the rest of the world.

Back in his favorite corner of the sofa, Severus tucked into a sandwich, sipping water from a large, plastic cup. Deep within the recesses of the bar, a Muggle washing machine churned, cleaning sand, crab crap, and seagull droppings from his clothing. Wrapped in one of Papa's bathrobes (which could have belonged to Hagrid), Severus watched the woman watching him.

Kat sat in her chair across from him, sipping from a large mug and observing him. When he finally set the sandwich down, she asked him, "How long are you staying this time?"

Severus shrugged. "I don't know," he rasped. "As long as I have money and can spend my days here."

"Why?"

"This is as good a place as any," he replied, "and I haven't finished working my way through your library." Kat's grin was like the sun coming up. Severus felt a flicker of pleasure.

"Would you like a job?"

"Pardon? You don't know me."

"Do I need to? All I really want is somebody to help sweep up, kill large, nasty spiders, and look threatening when the locals get too enthusiastic about their cricket. Papa's good for some of that, but he's going back to New Zealand in a few days, and it gets a little lonely here. If you keep your hands out of the till, don't try to assault me, and stay relatively sober while you're working, you can work here for as long as you like."

It was the most attractive, if not the most flattering, offer Severus had received in a while. He thought for a moment. "Who's Papa?" he asked.

"Oh, just an old fellow who thinks he's the incarnation of Hemmingway. He shows up periodically, and I usually take the opportunity to go to the mainland to buy things I can't get shipped here." Kat rose from her seat. "Did you want to start today?"

Severus nodded. He didn't really, he reflected, have anything better to do.

"There is one problem, though," he said.

"What's that?"

"I've nowhere to sleep."

Kat grinned. Severus' heart leapt. So did another part of his anatomy. He shifted Papa's robe, hoping that she hadn't noticed. This was a woman, not a girl in a woman's body.

"That's not a problem; you can sleep on the couch. But you should know: I sleep with a shotgun by my pillow."

It occurred to Severus to wonder why he felt disappointed to hear that.

Later that night, stretched out on what was to become "his" couch, Severus drew his wand from its sheath. Kat was obviously a Muggle, and as much as he might have wished it, there were some things that even he couldn't do. Couldn't do? asked his brain, or wouldn't do? Severus shook his head. It didn't matter; he was here, he would stay here, and even if the reincarnation of the Dark Lord came through the door, there wasn't a power in the universe that could drag him back to England.

Severus found that placing his wand in a box and shoving it deep beneath the recesses of the sofa was one of the easiest things he had done lately.

"Happy anniversary, Nemo!"

"What are you on about, Kat? Is that Green Label?"

"Just for you. I can't stand the stuff myself, but in honor of your first anniversary, I thought it would be nice."

Severus smiled. Smiling came easier to him these days. "I hadn't . . . noticed."

Kat grinned. "I thought you hadn't. No matter, though; I did. Here, drink up." Kat thrust the bottle at him. "I would've baked you a cake, but it's too damn hot. Can you believe it's only March?"

Much later, after the locals had drunk their toasts to "Nemo" and left, and the television was finally silenced, Kat and Severus sat on opposite ends of the couch, each finishing a bottle.

"God, Nemo, I never understood how you used to be able to drink this shit. But now that I've downed what, half the bottle on my own, it has a certain charm," Kat slurred, one hand in her shaggy hair, the other cradling her glass.

Severus eyed the woman: her shirt was unbuttoned one more than it should have been, her legs were tucked underneath her, and eyes were soft: the Green Label was having more of an effect on her than she realized.

"It's an acquired taste, I suppose." He grimaced as he took another pull at the bottle. "Kat, I've been meaning to ask you: why are you here?"

"Mmm?"

"Why did you choose this place? It's hardly palatial. It's not even very nice."

"Hey, that's my bar you're talking about! I like it!" Kat looked as indignant as she could, given her current state of inebriation. She lurched toward him. Severus lurched as well, albeit more deliberately.

They met halfway. Unlike the kisses he shared with Miss Granger, this one had no malice, no frustration, and no pain. Kat's lips were soft and warm. Her mouth opened and Severus followed up with his advantage. She tasted of Green Label...and security.

"Look, Nemo..."

Severus realized that she had drawn back.

"You're sexy as hell. Don't get me wrong, I like the tall, dark, tragic, brooding type, a lot, actually."

"Brooding?" Severus was slightly miffed.

"But the truth is, you and me...it's a bad idea. Drunken sex is fun...I'll give you that...but . . . I'm just not . . . Look, I know you're in love with somebody: I can hear you when you dream of her. Whoever she is, I'm not her. I can't be her, and . . . well, I was a replacement once, a long time ago. I won't do that again."

"Kat . . ."

"I'm going to bed, Nemo. Alone. You should do the same. Let's sleep it off, and in the morning, we'll both be so hung-over, we won't know what hit us."

Kat rose from the couch and somewhat unsteadily made her way across the floor to the back room, where she slept. Severus made to rise and follow her, but at the last moment, he remembered the shotgun. He also remembered that drunk or sober, Miss Katrina was a good shot.

He stood, removed his shirt, and clad in his Bermuda shorts and t-shirt, stretched out on the couch, ignoring his hardness, his longing, the taste of the woman, and the sloshing of the booze in his stomach.

It might have been the alcohol, but for the first time in a year, he didn't dream.

Life continued in a similar pattern: occasionally Kat and Severus would get drunk together, he would kiss her, and she would kiss him back for a while, but before he could get too far, she would tell him to go sleep it off on his sofa, alone. Severus would have been furious with her if it he hadn't recognized that kissing Kat was the only way he could avoid dreaming of Miss Granger.

And then, on the fifth anniversary of his disappearance, the screen door to the bar creaked open, and an English couple entered.

Super-duper thanks to the betas who made this possible!

Challenge info can be found in the first two chapters.

And if you were wondering, I made no money writing this. Only Kat and the bar belong to me.