Chapter 2
*** Nineteen Months Earlier ***
In The Bar With No Doors, two men sat away from the crowd of other magic users. The black man doing his best to comfort his white friend, who was drowning his sorrows in his third glass of his favourite cocktail, mai tai. Jericho Drumm sighed as he grasped his friend's shoulder while the other man stared soberly at the bottom of the newly emptied glass. Doctor Stephen Strange had been visiting the bar more frequently, at first just dropping by to catch up with his old friends but the cheery veneer had corroded away and for the past three weeks, he had done nothing but hang out in the dingy corner and drink himself stupid before staggering off; back to the Sanctum Sanctorum. His other friends had tried to comfort and console him but they had either been rebuffed or had grown tired of trying, leaving only Brother Voodoo. And even he was on his last shard of patience. Of course they all wanted to help him but there comes a point when you're spending more time trying to stabilize someone else's mental health that you neglect your own and you have to reluctantly back away. "Stephen, you need to seek professional help or learn to work through your issues yourself." Jericho told him gently. "I can't bare to see you like this but... I'm not a therapist or a psychologist. I'm worried about you, we're all worried about you." Jericho reluctantly stood and letting go of Stephen's shoulder, he added, "We can't help you, if you wont help yourself." And with that he turned to walk away and join the others in the brightly light booths.
"Jericho, please wait?" Stephen begged, causing the other man to turn around but when their eyes met, everything that Stephen wanted to say died in his mouth. Sighing again and closing his eyes, Jericho walked away; leaving Stephen alone. He sat with his head in his hands, his eyes unfocusing as the music and voices became blurred and indistinguishable. Then getting to his feet he went to leave when his hip collided sharply with his table, sending it and the empty glasses crashing to the floor. Startled and in a panicked hazed, Stephen left swiftly, stepping out into the dark New York street.
"Stephen?" called the voice of Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch. Her head poked out of the wall that acted as a doorway into the bar but when she looked, Stephen Strange had already staggered away.
"Oh, master... Clea. I'm so lost without you." Stephen choked out as he slumped against a nearby brick wall, his finger vying for purchase in the grooves where the cement had set. He sniffed as his lip trembled, his body quivering. After a few more seconds, he pulled himself to his full height and went to continue on his path home but his movements were rigid and, just managing to to cover his face; he collapsed onto the floor. He was mentally and physically sore and beaten and so the tears fell fast as he threaded his hands through his unkempt short black hair. His master was gone and the love of his life was no longer in his life since they had finalized their divorce, only Wong was still a constent. Poor Wong, he deserved a better man to work for than Stephen. He knew this but he was too weak and needy to release him from his service. He didn't know what he'd do if Wong left him too, just like his master? Like the other mystics? Like Clea?
Stephen was suddenly made aware of a abrupt chill in the air which helped him to snap out of his drunken stupor and stand, shivering. "What is this?" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something. A skeletal withered hand from beneath a long black shroud as it loomed closer to him and with it came a chilling frost, the feeling of despair growing in Stephen's mind. Then from seemingly nowhere glided in a corporeal doe as it charged at the creature which shrieked and flew away closely followed by the deer. "What just happened?
"I just saved you from a dementor, is what just happened, you gormless twit." came an english accent, causing Stephen to turn to his right and there stood a pale man with shoulder length black, his arms folded and a wand clutched in his right hand. "Have you no self-preservation in you? Or at the least basic defensive knowledge? Where's your wand?"
"At home." Stephen said as he blinked at the stranger, who then moved closer and sniffed at the air.
"How many have you had?"
"Pardon?"
"Drinks, how many drinks have you had?"
"T-three."
"I see." The man hummed and then after a moments pause he reluctantly sighed, "Usually, I'd leave you to make your own way home but after what just happened... Come on, let's go. Where do you live?"
"Bleecker Street." Stephen stated as he was escorted back to number 177a.
***
Severus Snape felt like he was back at school, escorting drunk teenagers back to the castle as he walked through the streets of New York City. When they finally arrived at the brownstone, Severus was ready to leave the man, that was until the useless fool fell flat on his face after opening the front door. Rolling his eyes and giving an annoyed moan, Severus stooped down and pulled the man up by his underarms, dragging him into the building.
Sitting the man's unconscious body into a blue high-backed armchair, he went to make for the door when his eyes suddenly took in his surroundings. "What is this place?" he whispered as he looked at the unusual relics hung in glass cabinets and books lining the walls with a handful of stacks on the floor and a nearby table.
"This is the Sanctum Sanctorum." answered a bald asain man as he joined Severus' side. "Home of the Sorcerer Supreme." The man then seemed to be sizing Severus up, causing the former Potions master to cross his arms self-consciously. "My name is Wong, thank you for escorting Stephen home safely. He hasn't had the best of luck for the past year, so it's nice to see an act of kindness on occasion. It gives hope for the future."
"Sorcerer? Is that what they call wizards here in the States?" Severus inquired, raising an eyebrow. "Rather ostentatious, if you ask me."
"I'm afraid you misunderstand. Doctor Stephen Strange is a Master of the Mystic Arts." Wong corrected, Severus suddenly feeling very ill. "But I suppose it depends on what you mean by "wizard"?"
He had preformed magic in front of a muggle, he wondered how long it would before the Ministry of Magic or M.A.C.U.S.A would send an owl requesting his presence. "Well, it has been... interesting but I should get going." Severus nodded and walking to the door, he pulled it open and, was about to head out but immediately stopped as he stared out at the torrential downpour. "Ah."
"We have several guest bedrooms, if you wish to stay?" Wong offered. "I'm sure if Stephen was conscious, he would offer the same."
It was at this point that Severus remembered that he had no where to stay, he had planned to try and find a cheap location to bunker down in for the night but with everything that had happened he hadn't been able to make the arrangements. Pulling the door to, he said reluctantly, "Alright, but only for one night."
"Of course." Wong smiled pleasantly and gesturing with his hand to follow him he added, "Allow me to show you to your room."
***
Stephen awoke to a painful thumping pulse to his temple, at first he believed he had been cursed by another magic user until he remembered his trip to the bar. "Blessed hangover." he murmured quietly to himself as he massaged the bridge of his nose. Then he remembered the man with the deep black irises and the shrouded creature. "A nightmare and nothing more."
"Good morning, Stephen." Wong whispered softly as he produced a tray with a cardboard box and and a glass of water on it. "I have brought some aspirin for your hangover, I'll start your breakfast in a moment."
"Wong, you're a life saver." Stephen appraised as he took two tablets, chasing them down with the cool and refreshing glass of water. "I don't know what I'd do without you and yes, breakfast would be very much appreciated." He wait for a moment as he winced away from the bright light that streamed in from the large circular window with the seal of the Vishanti on it and slowly got to his feet and followed after Wong into the kitchen.
Sitting down at his oak dining table, Stephen watched as his friend fought valiantly against the content of his fridge, who then walked away victorious with nary a scratch on him. Slamming the fridge shut, Wong began to prepare Stephen's first meal of the day, something the sorcerer would have reeled away from in the past but had since become a staple of everyday life. He waited patiently as Wong sliced the mass of tentacles into bite size slithers and fried them in the wok with a mixture of different unknown substances and flavorings, substances and flavorings that Stephen would much rather stay unknown. "Here you go." Wong announced as he set a bowl down in front of Stephen of multicoloured tentacles in a soupy brown broth.
"Thank you." he sighed contently, picking up his bamboo chopsticks and began to hungrily work through the carefully prepared dish. It was then that he heard gentle thumping sounds coming from the floor above. "Did you hear that?"
"Ah, that'll be mister Snape." Wong supplied and went back to filling plastic containers with left over tentacles, coating some in a marinade of some kind.
"Snape?" Stephen managed through a mouthful of food, raising an eyebrow.
"The nice man, who brought you home last night." Wong said. "I hope you don't mind but since it was raining, I offered that he stay in one of the guest rooms."
Stephen coughed as he choked at Wong's words. "Pardon?"
"Good morning." Wong cut through, causing Stephen to look up as they were joined by the mysterious man, who had saved him from whatever that thing had been. He was fully dressed but missing the black coat and was instead wearing a simple white long sleeved blouse as well as the black formal trousers and shoes and, his hair brushed back behind one ear. "Here, a rather persistent owl left this for you." Wong then handed the man a plain looking envelop. Stephen wasn't close enough to see what it said but found that it was curiously missing a stamp.
Snape didn't open the letter, flipping it over and tutting at the envelop before asking, "I suppose it's permissible to make myself something to eat?"
"By all mean, just one rule and that is: don't go in the fridge." Wong informed Snape. "Unless you are comfortable with grappling with a furious tentacled monstrosity."
"Duly noted." Snape nodded and opened a nearby overhead cupboard.
"Do you want me to move elsewhere, because I can?" Stephen prompted, self-consciously taking in his half-eaten bowl of tentacles.
Snape turned back to look at him with a raised eyebrow and wrinkled nose, "Why would I want you to move?"
"I tend to find that most people are disgusted or put off by my diet." Stephen answered matter of factually. "So, I really don't mind moving."
Snape looked at Stephen, looked at the content of his bowl and shrugged, "I've seen and dissected weirder things."
***
"So, where did you study magic?" Strange inquired as Severus finished his slice of toast, chasing it with a freshly brewed cup of tea. Wong had excused himself, leaving the two magic users alone.
Severus paused for a moment and then glancing to the unopened letter he answered, "Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. What about you? Wong said you're some sort of sorcerer?"
"Ah, yes." Strange nodded as he pushed aside his newly emptied bowl. "I trained for years in the the Mystic Arts, high in the Himalayan mountains, under the tutelage of The Ancient One-"
"The Ancient One?" Severus repeated, folding his arms and raising his eyebrow at this. "Really?"
"I thought the exact same thing." Strange stated. "I thought he was simply a conman after my money, not that I had any at the time, that is-"
"Unemployed?"
"Homeless. I was nothing more than a drifter going from place to place."
"Homeless?"
"I had once been one of the world's leading neurosurgeon and, well... a car accident soon put an end to that."
"What happened?"
"Severe nerve damage in both hands." Strange explained, holding his heavily scared hands up in front of his face. "Spent every last penny hunting for a cure. I was too prideful to take a job as a consultant and it was my pride that ruined me."
Severus looked at the hands and hummed in thought and gesturing to the sorcerer's hands, "May I?"
"By all means." Strange shrugged and presented his hands to Severus, who gently took them in his own.
He inspected them, turning them over and said, "I could probably heal them for you, if you want?"
"Pardon?" Strange blinked.
"I already have a summons from using magic in front of muggles, so I might as well." Severus pointed out, nodding towards the still unopened envelop that was just sat on the table. "I'd need to make a few potions to repair the nerves and I believe fractured bones but yes, scars and all. No problem."
Strange pulled his hands away as if burnt and stressed, "If my life is some kind of joke to you, you can-"
"What?" Severus cut through, getting to his feet angrily, "I saved you from a dementor, brought you home safely and offer to heal your hands and you throw back in my face and, on top of that you accuse me-"
"I'm sorry." Strange apologized, holding up his hands in a wordless surrender. "I've just been through so much-"
"As have I-"
"I'm sorry. I truly, truly am sorry." Strange said, standing up slowly. "I have just had so many professionals promise me a cure and, here you are, I don't know."
"Well, if you set me up an area, I could get to work straight away?" Severus informed Strange simply, then picking up the unopened letter he added, "We can use this as kindling." And unbeknownst to the wizard and his new sorcerer acquaintance, that day would mark the beginning of a new and wholly strange relationship.