Marylebone, Muggle London.
Was this why girls giggled behind their hands and twirled their hair when a man so much as glanced their way? It was ridiculous, and yet… she couldn't deny the thrill of it. Fleamont Potter—wealthy, brilliant, and deeply respected—had been enthralled by her. Not just by Seraphine Corvane, the elusive potioneer, but by her.
Severa grinned to herself as she walked down the street, her boots clicking against the pavement. She had him, just as she'd planned.
The next few weeks would be crucial. Of course, he would write—his curiosity wouldn't allow him not to. She would be careful with her replies, engaging but measured, keeping him wanting more. Letting him believe he was peeling back her layers and uncovering the real woman behind the mystery.
She clutched her coat tighter around herself as a chilly breeze swept through Marylebone. It was amusing, really, how easily people could be drawn in. With the right balance of allure and distance, even the most intelligent men could be made to follow wherever you led them.
Taking a quick look at her watch, which showed it was just half past one, Severa decided to return to Diagon Alley. She hadn't gotten a chance to stop by the Apothecary and inquire about a job. Tomorrow was Monday, and with it, she would be handing in her resignation at the Muggle Bookshop where she worked. Alice, the sweet old lady who owned the shop, would be sad to see her go but happy that she was moving on with her life. Alice firmly believed that Severa was wasting her youth working in her bookshop.
Severa turned the collar of her coat up and muttered a warming spell under her breath. Warmth spread through her, and her shoulders eased. A sigh of relief left her lips. She turned down a random alley and stopped behind a large bin, keeping out of view; glancing towards the street, she apparated.
She arrived a little off to the side in front of the Apothecary. The street was a little quieter than it had been this morning. A cold wind blew over her, and she felt it even through the warming charm she'd placed. Ducking her head, she quickly made her way inside.
As she opened the door, the ember-like warmth of Dragon's Blood and smouldering Ashwinder eggs washed over her. The door swung shut behind her as she made her way further in towards the counter that was set all the way into the back. Rows upon rows of potions and ingredients were stacked neatly and haphazardly on the shelves as she passed them. The lingering smell of dried Wolfsbane and Nightshade Blooms made her nose wrinkle at the floral bitterness. There was a subtle fire that roared somewhere within the shop that enhanced the smell of aged parchment and leather potion-stained books. She could feel the buzz of faint magic that washed over her, leaving her skin tingling.
Reaching the counter, there was no one around; she sighed and tapped the little golden bell that sat innocently in front of her.
A moment or two passed. Nothing.
She tapped it again.
Huffing, she looked around, "Hello?" she called out.
The sound of shuffling, something falling and a curse was the reply.
"Just a moment, just a moment!" Came a grumble from somewhere behind the curtain.
Only seconds later, the curtain was pulled back sharply, and a man who looked no older than sixty stepped out looking frazzled. His glasses were sitting skewed on his face. The closer he got, the more she could smell the shifting aroma of an Amortentia potion. With it, the aroma changed into something that smelt of smoky whiskey, spiced honey, aged leather, and embers—it was rich, warm, and undeniably seductive.
Startled at the smell, she leaned back ever so slightly. She'd made the potion herself in the past, and it never smelt like this.
But before she could put any more thought into it, the older man spoke, "Sorry about that. It's been a slow morning, so I thought I'd do some brewing. Now, how can I help you?"
Severa glanced over his shoulder at the curtain before meeting his eyes. "Amortentia potion?" she asked knowingly.
He looked pleasantly surprised "How-? Why, you're absolutely right, my dear! Very few would be able to guess that." He chuckled, sounding pleased. He wiped his hands on a rag and held out a hand, "Alaric Briarwood."
Severa gave a tentative smile and shook his hand "Severa Snape, a pleasure Mr Briarwood."
With another chuckle, the old man nodded. "Now, how can 'ol Alaric help you?"
Shifting a bit in place, Severa asked him, "I was wondering if you're looking to hire, sir. I can assure you I'm quite qualified."
"Hmmm," He said, looking her over, thinking. "An Amortentia potion is hard to identify by smell alone. Nearly none but the most skilled would recognise it; how did you?"
Her lips twitched. "When I first walked in, it was unusually warm for an apothecary; after all, even with the fire roaring in the corner over there, you would place a cooling spell to ensure the longevity of the other ingredients and herbs. But since Amortentia is a temperamental spell, it must be kept at a steady, low-simmering heat of seventy-five to eighty degrees Celsius. But since this temperature is much too high for ninety-six per cent of the ingredients and potions in this shop, I can only imagine you cast individual spells on them to keep them cool."
At Alaric's raised eyebrows and stunned, impressed look, Severa felt a bit smug. She loved talking about potions, and she loved being able to show off her knowledge just a bit.
"Combined with the fact that I've been drawn to the room behind that curtain, along with the sharp scent of Rose Thorns and Peppermint, it's only a logical assumption."
Alaric let out another round of chuckles, his eyes shining as he looked at her "My my! I do believe I've only met one other person in my time who could identify a potion without seeing it or its ingredients, and that was many, many years ago." With his hands on the counter, he leaned in close, a smile still on his face. "You, my dear girl, are a natural." He gave the counter a little pat and then straightened up, pulled off his glasses, and wiped them down. "Now, what's this about a job?"
Internally, Severa preened at the praise; on the outside, her face was calm, but her eyes gave away her glee. She cleared her throat, "I'm looking for work, sir. And I was hoping that perhaps you were looking to hire someone. I can promise you that not only do I work hard, but I have my-"
Alaric waved off her words, slipping his glasses back on "My dear girl, anyone who can identify the way you can, I have no doubts about your skills." He hummed, looking at her. "You are a Hogwarts graduate?"
"Yes," She said, nodding. "I graduated nine years ago."
"And did you obtain your potions mastery?"
"Sir?"
"That level of skill? I have no doubt you pursued further education. Am I wrong?" He asked, looking a bit amused.
"No sir, I finished it five years ago, at twenty-one."
"Twenty-one? Blimey girl." He looked at her over the rim of his glasses, shock colouring his face "Youngest in over a century, hm? Nothing by the halves?" he laughed.
"Well then, love. As long as there are no warrants for your arrest," He joked.
"Welcome aboard!"
Severa's eyes widened, "Just like that?" She asked him. Surely it wasn't this easy to get a job at an apothecary…? Let alone anywhere.
"Just like that. I'd be a damn fool to let you slip through my fingers." He sighed and looked around the old shop fondly "Besides, it's just little old me here now. My great-great-something grandfather opened this shop nearly nine centuries ago, older than that bloody Slugs and Jiggers." Alaric scoffed. "Bloody bunch of ninnies they are-"
Severa listened to him grumble, but her mind drifted. She'd done it. She'd gone and successfully gotten a job at the one apothecary that Fleamont Potter frequented not only for personal use but also for business. What kind of business? She wasn't sure. She eyed the old man behind the counter, she wasn't sure what one old man could do, but this was her chance to find out, and find out she would.
"-now Ms Snape," Alaric's voice broke through her thoughts. Her eyes snapped to his as he continued, "When's the soonest you can start?"
"As soon as you'll have me," she replied, "I'll be handing in my resignation to a muggle bookshop I'm working at tomorrow."
Alaric nodded approvingly. "Good, good. I like a gal who knows what she wants." He reached beneath the counter, rummaging through a stack of parchment before pulling out a ledger. Flipping it open, he traced a finger down a list of dates before glancing up at her.
"Let's say Wednesday, then? That'll give you a day or two to sort yourself out."
Wednesday. That gave her just enough time to make her exit from the bookshop without raising too much fuss. Alice, she knew would be excited for her and very supportive of her moving on to bigger and better things. Besides, Severa felt she'd long outgrown the little bookshop tucked away on Melcombe Street.
She gave Alaric a firm nod. "Wednesday works perfectly."
"Brilliant." He clapped his hands together, grinning. "I'll need you here by nine. We open at ten, but there's always prep to be done beforehand. You'll start with the basics—stocking, measuring, brewing under my watchful eye." He winked, then gestured vaguely around the shop. "Eventually, I'll let you get your hands on the more delicate orders. That sound good to you?"
"More than good," she assured him.
"Then we have a deal." He extended a hand again, and she shook it, sealing the arrangement.
"It's been a pleasure, Mr Briarwood. Thank you!" She said a hint of excitement in her voice.
"Not at all, love. I'm very excited to have you on board. I know you'll breathe new life into this old shop, and I expect many great things from you." He patted her hand, which he still held. He gave it a little squeeze and then let go.
Severa gave another one of her tentative smiles.
"Now go on," he said, shooing her out with a slight grin. "I'm sure you have better things to do and much to get ready for than spending any more time with this old man."
"Of course, I'll see you Wednesday, Mr Briarwood," she replied. She was growing kinda fond of the old man.
"Alaric, none of that Mr Briarwood."
"Then please call me Severa."
At his nod, she offered a fleeting smile. A quick farewell passed between them before she turned to go.
As she left the apothecary she felt the weight of success settle comfortably over her shoulders. The job she'd just scored was more than just employment—it was a direct window into Fleamont Potter's dealings. She had positioned herself exactly where she needed to be, with access to information and opportunities she wouldn't have had otherwise.
Her lips quirked up into a slight smirk as she rounded the corner, Wednesday was the perfect day to start. Alaric didn't know he'd just given her a golden opportunity. That was the day Fleamont came in for whatever business dealings he had with Alaric. It seems she would learn what the two did sooner than she thought.
Yes, Wednesday would be a good day.
And as Severa prepared to apparate, she had no idea that Wednesday would mark the beginning of an end–his marriage, her freedom, the illusion of control they both clung to. Neither of them knew it yet, but their paths were set to cross in ways neither could resist.
Severa had unknowingly stepped into a game she thought she could control, unaware that the rules–she'd put in place–were already shifting around her. Every step, every word she spoke, would ripple out in ways she couldn't foresee, leading her down a path she was unprepared to walk.
With a final glance over her shoulder, Severa turned on her heel and vanished.