Marylebone, Muggle London.

At some point during the night, Severa woke with a start. Her heart was racing, and her mind was muddled. She wasn't sure what had woken her up, a bad dream perhaps? If it was, she didn't remember what it had been about. It was right there on the edge of her consciousness.

With a low sigh, she sat up in bed, rubbing at her eyes; she could feel a throbbing behind her eyes. It'd been a while since she had woken up with the beginning of a headache. A glance at her window told her it was sometime during the night. Yawning, she tossed the duvet off her and swung her legs over; she rested her head on her hands that were propped up by her elbows resting on her knees. Suppressing another yawn, she stood up, popping her back as she did so, letting out a sigh of relief as the muscles loosened.

She stood there for a moment, pantless, and rubbed the back of her head. Then, lazily flicking her fingers in the direction of the candlestick on her desk, it lit up, emitting a soft flickering glow around the room. Her bowl of cereal was long, soggy, and warm, and she wrinkled her nose.

Severa walked towards her dresser, pulled out a pair of black pants, and slipped them on. After grabbing her warm cereal, she quietly exited the room. Immediately, the sounds of the night hit her ears: the hum of the fridge and the wind blowing through the trees, causing one of the branches to lightly tap, tap, tap against the living room window. Nicole's door was firmly shut, and as she walked past, she couldn't hear anything coming from within.

She hummed softly, spying Ben's shoes still at the front door, and knew he was in Nicole's room. She was relieved that the two of them were fast asleep, and glancing at the clock told her why: it was 3:14 am.

After scooping out the cereal and tossing it into the bin with the spoon, Severa set her bowl down in the kitchen sink. She filled the bowl with water and decided to wash it in the morning.

Hand to mouth, Severa yawned again; with her other hand, she grabbed a clean cup next to the sink and filled it with water. Standing there, she looked out the kitchen window; the street was empty, the lights of other flats and shops all off. This was her favourite time when the quietness of the night crept in, and all she could hear were her own thoughts. Finishing off her water, she rinsed the cup and set it back on the kitchen towel they used to lay clean dishes on.

She turned to the fridge and opened it, peering inside at its contents. With another hum, she reached for a yoghurt and a juice box, shutting the fridge door with her hip. A spoon came flying at her from the drawer, which she easily caught. Yoghurt in hand, she opened the cupboard where they kept all their snacks and grabbed herself a packet of Quavers. As she went to close the cupboard, she decided to grab a mini pack of chocolate Maltesers.

Satisfied with her small hoard, she quietly made her way back to her room. The door swung shut behind her with a soft click.

Magic really was helpful.

She thought briefly about taking her hoard of food to her bed and then decided against it. She wasn't one to eat in bed, and she wasn't going to start now.

Instead, she made her way to her desk, letting everything fall with a light clunk. Her room was still warded, so she wasn't worried about noise.

Sitting in her chair, she moved some of her notes around, peeling back the film on the yoghurt. She grabbed the smaller side of the yoghurt and, with a click, poured the peach flavour jam into it. Scrapping it all out with her spoon, she absentmindedly mixed the two together as she read over one of her notes.

Spooning some into her mouth, Severa hummed and grabbed her pencil, crossing out something she'd previously written. Instead, she wrote, "Make a trip to Flourish and Blotts at Diagon Alley."

Severa was determined to learn the spells that could help her with her make-up ordeal. And while she couldn't remember the exact spells Narcissa and the other girls had used, although, to be fair, she had never paid attention, she wasn't there to flirt and snog whoever she could. She was there to learn.

And learn she did.

So, she would purchase a book or two. She had to be something from which she could gather the information. After all, her dormmates had to have learnt it somewhere.

Severa had no intention of replicating the disaster that had happened early.

Satisfied, she tapped her pencil against the paper as she took another bite of yoghurt. She was eager to set her plan into motion sooner rather than later. Over the years since she first decided to do this, she knew the one thing she needed to do was figure out Fleamont Potter's schedule. Thankfully she hadn't been sitting on her arse doing nothing these past few years.

After finishing her yoghurt and licking the spoon clean, she set it aside and shuffled through the papers scattered on her desk. It was messy, but it was an organised mess. Underneath a pile of papers and parchment lay an inconspicuous brown leather book. Making a pleased noise, Severa pulled the book close, untying the leather string. She flipped through the pages until she came upon the one she wanted.

She wasn't stupid enough not to track every movement of the man she was planning to seduce; she knew better.

Fleamont Potter was a creature of habit, and habits were easy to track.

Severa ran a finger down the page, scanning over notes written in her sharp, precise script. Diagon Alley visits were sporadic but predictable—twice a month, usually in the morning. Business meetings at the apothecary, which she assumed were related to his potion business, took place every other Wednesday. Dinners with business partners were rare but meticulously recorded. The real goldmine, however, was his personal routine.

Every Sunday, without fail, Fleamont visited a small café in Muggle London. He sat at the same table, ordered the same tea, and on the rare occasion, he would order a dessert, but he always spent no less than an hour reading whatever book had caught his interest that week.

That was her way in.

She smirked, leaning back in her chair as she twirled her pencil between her fingers. If she played this right, their first "meeting" would seem completely natural. A chance encounter. A slow, carefully woven introduction into his world.

She flipped to a clean page and started writing down how she could play their first meeting. There were so many possibilities and different paths; she wanted to try them all, and even though that was impossible, it still made her heart race in excitement. Severa paused as an idea came to her, who said their first meeting had to be their first meeting.

Brief encounters and the classic "Have I seen you before?" all spoke of those silly romance movies Nicole would occasionally put on – the ones she claimed to hate, but Severa knew better.– And while life wasn't like a movie, who said it couldn't have those movie moments?

She thought of Fleamont's schedule, tap, tap, tap; the sound of her pencil tapping against the paper was almost hypnotic until it finally paused.

The apothecary.

Severa herself excelled in potions, and in the six years since she left Hogwarts at the ripe age of 21, she'd gotten her masters. And with it came the offer from Hogwarts to work with them as their Potions Mistress. And no matter how often Dumbledore owl'ed her, it'll be a cold day in Azkaban before she lowers herself to that level. Why in Godric's name would she want to teach a bunch of dunderheads? Not to mention going back to the one place that reminded her of all the torment she suffered.

Honestly, the old fool Dumbledore was off his rockers.

No, her time and her master's degree would be better spent elsewhere. With it, she knew she could get a job at Slug & Jiggers even if she was overqualified. They were the biggest apothecary in Diagon Alley, not to mention the one Fleamont did his business with.

Yes, it was perfect.

Severa grinned as she wrote "apothecary" next to "cafe" and circled them both several times. For the next half hour, she furiously wrote down all the ideas and tasks she would need to complete to make this a reality. She grabbed her juice box and stabbed the little plastic straw through the top, then dropped her pencil and sat back.

Her mind whirled with all the possibilities, but a sudden yawn cut through her thoughts. Severa glanced at the clock—4:37 AM. She needed sleep if she was ever going to put anything into motion.

Finishing off the last of the juice, she crushed the carton, tossed it into the small bin next to her desk and stood up, stretching her back cracking as she reached up towards the ceiling.

Tomorrow morning, she would go to Diagon Alley, and when she was finished at the Flourish & Blotts, she would go to the apothecary to inquire about a job. And come Monday, she would tell the sweet old muggle lady at her job she would be quitting.

Crawling into bed and covering herself with her duvet, she let out a pleased sigh as her head hit her pillow. She watched as rain started pattering against the window, thunder rolling in the distance. Letting out a yawn, her last thoughts before she fell asleep were on Fleamont Potter.