Marylebone, Muggle London.
Severa exhaled sharply, fishing her keys from her coat pocket, as she shuffled the two heavy bags from one hand to the other. A groan escaped her lips—why had she let that overly enthusiastic teenager talk her into buying so much?
As she pushed open the door to her flat, Severa wasted no time letting the bags drop to the floor with a dull thud. Kicking off her shoes, she shut the door behind her and leaned against it already dreading the effort it would take to sort through everything.
Pushing off the door with a weary sigh, she grabbed the bags and dragged them into her room, tossing them onto the bed with a huff. If she was going to do this, she might as well be comfortable.
Reaching inside, she pulled out the stack of magazines, rolling her eyes at the sheer volume of them. There was no way someone needed this many magazines.
Who in their right mind lets an overly enthusiastic teen talk them into buying twenty magazines? You, Severa. She thought, shaking her head as she began sorting the magazines into three piles.
One pile for beauty, another for fashion, and the last for hair. She eyed the stacks, already feeling a headache coming on. This was going to take more time and effort than she thought.
With a sigh, she grabbed the top magazine from the beauty pile and flopped onto her bed, flipping it open to a random page. Severa wrinkled her nose at the flashy colours and the pretty girls half-dressed. She turned page after page, rolling her eyes.
'Is your skin blemishing? Here are 10 tips to be blemish-free!'
'The fastest way to test an eye pencil for ''drag'': Stroke point on skin between fingers, which has the same texture, delicacy as eyelid skin.'
'NEW MAKE UP TRENDS! Do you exercise? Great news! Companies are now focusing on improving already fan favourites! Buckle in, girls, because soon you'll be able to achieve that smoky, sexy look without it running all while you're running!'
Bold, colourful letters screaming about "must-have" products, "life-changing" skincare routines, and "secret tricks", all to achieve the perfect look.
Severa scoffed. Was it really that easy? A bit of powder, a swipe of lipstick, and suddenly, men were falling at your feet? She had spent the last six years watching women work their magic on men, but seeing it laid out like a formula made it feel... cheap.
With an exasperated groan, she hurled the magazine at the wall, watching it smack against the surface before sliding to the floor. These were supposed to help her, to teach her—not make her want to tear her hair out in frustration!
Blemished skin, eye pencils, all the different brands and products, how this colour complements this colour. Ugh, it was enough to make her seriously reconsider this whole thing.
Almost. Not quite.
She rubbed her temples, taking a slow, deep breath to steady herself. This was just another step, another obstacle she had to overcome. One she would overcome. If other women could master this, so could she.
After all, she was Severa Snape; there was nothing she couldn't master, no obstacle she couldn't overcome. She had the brains for it.
That wasn't her boasting; she was just stating a fact.
With renewed determination, Severa snatched another magazine. This time, she flipped through the pages with greater care. She forced herself to focus on the makeup guides, the tips on how to hold yourself, and the subtle techniques women used to capture attention.
It wasn't just about make-up; it was also about how you held yourself, how you walked, the way you smelled. How scent could not only capture a man's attention and remind him of you long after you're gone.
This isn't about just power, she thought as she stared at the girl on the page; this is about control.
Perhaps her mother was right; women really do have the power to captivate and bring a man to his knees.
She grabbed her notepad and started jotting down notes, listing the tools and products needed to perfect her transformation. But as her eyes skimmed over the growing list, she frowned. She didn't have the extra money to waste on this. She could barely afford food as it was, even with her job at the muggle bookshop, let alone enough to splurge on make-up products.
The funds she had set aside were meant for when the real fun began—not for lipstick and powders. With a sigh, she tapped the tip of her wand against her temple, deep in thought, when a realisation struck her.
She was a bloody witch.
Lowering her hand, she stared at her wand, recalling the many times she had seen Narcissa and other girls cast makeup spells with effortless precision in her year. She remembers scoffing and rolling her eyes at them. As she stared at her wand, she wished she paid more attention. She wouldn't need to buy anything—if she could remember the correct incantations.
Flipping to a fresh page in her notepad, Severa scribbled down everything she could remember about the beauty spells they used. She recalled Narcissa effortlessly smoothing her complexion with a flick of her wand, turning her lips a deeper shade of red with a single whispered word. Other girls had done the same, transfiguring their lashes to look longer, their cheekbones more defined—all without touching a single brush or compact.
If they could do it, so could she.
Severa set her jaw and picked up her wand. She started with the simplest spell she could remember, one she had seen used countless times in the Slytherin dorms. With a practised flick, she muttered the incantation under her breath. A light shimmer passed over her skin, and she darted toward the mirror, inspecting the results.
Her complexion looked smoother, more even, softer.
Encouraged, she tried again, this time focusing on her lips. She envisioned them fuller, richer in colour. Another whispered word, another flick of her wand.
A strangled gasp escaped her throat as she watched the magic take place. Her reflection was a disaster—a chaotic smear of mismatched colours, her lips an unnatural shade of purple, streaks of red and gold blotching her cheeks like some grotesque painting.
Oh, Merlin, her eyelids were orange!
"Godric's heart! Wha—" she yelped, nearly dropping the mirror in horror. The longer she stared, the worse it got. Severa, with a flick of her wand, muttered a quick "Scourgify!" And while that should have helped, it didn't. Instead, it smeared the colours everywhere.
Cursing, Severa dropped the mirror onto her bed and made her way to the loo. She'd have to wash it off the old-fashioned way. Just as she opened her door, she heard someone yell out, "HONEY I'M HOOOOOME!"
Severa froze, her stomach dropping, Nicole.
Nicole wasn't supposed to be home until the next day, but no, of all the times to home, she comes home now. The one time Severa looked like a clown caught in a rainstorm.
Panicked, her eyes darted between her bedroom and the loo, trying to decide which offered the quickest escape as the sharp click of Nicole's heels echoed closer.
Screw it!
Her heart pounded as she bolted for the loo, slamming the door shut just as Nicole's voice rang out again.
"Severa? You here?"
Pressing her back against the door, she scrambled to turn on the sink, splashing water onto her face in a desperate attempt to scrub away the colourful disaster. But the enchanted makeup refused to budge, smearing instead into a grotesque blend of reds and pinks.
"Ugh, damn it," she hissed under her breath, rubbing harder.
A knock sounded at the door. "You okay in there?" Nicole asked, her tone laced with curiosity.
Severa stiffened. "Fine!" she snapped, voice a little too high. "Just… washing up!"
There was a pause, then the sound of footsteps retreating. Severa let out a sharp breath of relief and gripped the edge of the sink. She needed to fix this—fast.
She cupped her hands under the faucet, splashing water onto her face before scrubbing with enough force to turn the skin a bright red. The enchanted makeup clung stubbornly, smearing into a mixture of greys instead of fading.
"Bloody hell," she muttered, grabbing a washcloth and, after wetting it, rubbed harder, her frustration mounting as the mess only seemed to spread.
Severa grabbed the bar of soap and lathered her hands, and with a frantic motion, scrubbed at her face until it felt a bit raw, hoping that through sheer force and soap would do what magic and water had failed to. Splashing water onto her face, she finally pulled away to check the mirror, she was met with an awful sight—her face was blotchy, streaked with a multitude of ruining colours that made her look bruised rather than beautiful.
Severa groaned, she couldn't let Nicole see her like this. Taking a deep breath, she reached for her wand again. Maybe if she concentrated harder, she could reverse the mess she made.
Closing her eyes, she carefully muttered, "Finite Incantatem."
A cold sensation rushed over her skin, and when she peeked at her reflection, relief washed over her. The disastrous colours were gone.
Just as she exhaled a breath of relief, a sharp knock on the door made her jump and curse.
"Severa? What in the ever-loving hell are you doing in there?" Nicole said, her voice laced with suspicion. "I thought I heard you screaming."
Severa grabbed the towel, quickly patting her face dry before opening the door just enough to peek out. "I...slipped," she lied, forcing a scowl to mask any lingering panic. "Nothing to worry about."
Nicole narrowed her eyes, clearly not believing her completely. "Slipped?"
"Yes, Nicole. Slipped. Now, unless you want to watch me use the loo, I suggest you leave me alone."
Nicole held up her hands in surrender. "Fine, fine. Just checking. You don't usually scream when you slip, though."
Severa rolled her eyes and decided not to reply, so she shut the door in Nicole's face instead.
Satisfied that the disastrous colours were gone, she leaned in closer, scrutinising her reflection for any lingering traces of the botched spell. Her face was still slightly pink from where she'd frantically rubbed at it, but it was clear from any make-up. She sighed, pressing her palms against the cool porcelain sink.
This was going to be more complicated than she thought.
Straightening up, she ran a hand through her hair, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle in. If she wanted to pull this off, she'd have to do better—practice more, refine the spells, and maybe even look into actual makeup techniques instead of relying on magic alone.
With one last glance at the mirror, she squared her shoulders and turned off the bathroom light.