Marylebone, Muggle London.

Severa stormed out of the flat and down the street, a rage bubbling within her, the source of which she wasn't quite sure where it was coming from—by all accounts, today had been a good day. She'd met Fleamont, and it had gone splendidly, better than she could have hoped; she'd found a fantastic book at Flourish and Blotts and managed to secure a job at the only apothecary that Fleamont frequented weekly. She ought to have been jumping for joy, and she was, at least until she returned to the flat.

What had happened, was nothing new for Severa. Nicole did stuff like that daily, and she knew it wasn't ill intent. And after all it was nothing a quick spell couldn't fix. For all her faults, Nicole wasn't a bad person. So why was she so bloody pissed off?

Ducking into a random alley, Severa turned on her heel quickly and disapparated. She landed in the alley next to The Leaky Cauldron for the second time that day. It wasn't that late in the day, a little past three, so she knew the lunch rush would be over.

She exhaled sharply through her nose, willing herself to let it go. It was pointless to be this wound up over something so insignificant. But no matter how much she tried to rationalise it, the irritation clung to her like a stubborn curse.

Pushing open the door to The Leaky Cauldron, she was met with the familiar scent of butterbeer, roasted meat, and the faintest trace of pipe smoke. The place was quieter than earlier, the lunch crowd having trickled out, leaving only a few scattered patrons nursing their drinks. She made a beeline for the bar, sliding onto a stool and signaling Tom before she could overthink it.

"Firewhiskey," she ordered, her voice steady, though her fingers curled tightly against the bar.

Tom arched a brow, tossing the towel over his shoulder as he leaned against the bar. "Well, hello, Tom. How are you? Oh, I'm fine. Thanks for asking, love." He said to himself.

Shaking his head, he sighed, asking "What's got you all twisted up?" his voice low and familiar.

"Nothing," Severa muttered, deliberately avoiding his gaze. "Can't I just order a firewhiskey without the third degree?" Her words came out sharper than intended, and she dared to meet his eyes—only to falter a second later.

Tom scoffed, unimpressed. "You're biting my head off, so clearly, something's off."

Severa exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through her hair. "Just give me the damn drink, Tom."

Tom didn't budge. He studied her for a beat, then sighed before grabbing a bottle from the shelf. "Fine. But don't go breaking my glasses if you're in one of your moods," he muttered, pouring her a generous amount.

She scoffed, lifting the glass to her lips, only to pause when the liquid hit her tongue. Her eyes narrowed. "This is apple juice, you git," she muttered, shooting Tom a glare as he chuckled.

"I'm not serving you a damn thing until you tell me what's wrong," he said, unfazed.

Severa scowled, slamming her fist against the bar with a dull thud. "That's just bad business."

Tom didn't flinch, only smirking as he crossed his arms. "Maybe, but I'm not in the habit of letting regulars drink themselves stupid when they're clearly in a mood."

Severa exhaled sharply through her nose, fingers tightening around the glass. She could argue, push back, perhaps even storm off, but what was the point? He would only refuse her again the next time she came in.

She tapped her fingers against the bar, staring at the amber liquid before sighing. "It's nothing," she muttered, quieter this time. "Just—Nicole being Nicole."

Tom hummed in understanding and nodded his head, leaning up against the bar once more. "Ah. The muggle flatmate."

"The nightmare," Severa corrected, scowling irritated and lifted the glass and took another sip, this time without expecting anything alcoholic.

Setting the glass down with a soft clink, she exhaled, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I just don't know what to do with her."

Tom tilted his head, watching her with a knowing look. "You mean besides hexing her into next week?"

She let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. "Besides being against the law, it's tempting, but no." Drumming her fingers against the bar, frustration simmering beneath her skin. "It's just… she's not a bad person. She's just reckless. Inconsiderate. A bloody menace. But not bad."

Tom wiped an invisible smudge from the bar top. "And yet, you're sitting here, ranting about her instead of kicking her out."

Severa scowled, reaching for the glass again. "Because I'd feel like an arse if I did. She doesn't have anywhere else to go."

"That your problem or hers?" Tom asked, raising a brow.

Frowning, her lips pressed into a slight pout despite herself. "It just feels wrong," she muttered, staring into her glass as if the answer might be swirling somewhere inside it. "Besides, I can't afford the rent on my own."

"Ahhh, and there lies the problem and the pout I haven't seen in a while," Tom teased, grabbing a plate of fish and chips that materialised on the bar and slid it in front of her. "Eat."

She propped her elbows on the bar, cupping her face in her hands as she glared at him. "I don't pout." The smell of the salt and malt vinegar making her mouth water.

Tom smirked, crossing his arms. "You do when you don't get your way."

Severa scoffed, picking at a chip before lifting it but not eating it. "I get my way just fine when the need arises."

"Except with your little roommate problem," he pointed out.

She let out a groan, dropping her head onto the bar with a thud. The chip still held loosely between her thumb and forefinger, "I hate it when you're right."

"That's a lot of hate to carry, Vera." Tom chuckled, wiping down a glass. "Might wanna start unpacking some of it."

Groaning, Severa lifted her head just enough to glare at him. "If that was a dad joke, it was shite." She barely managed to block the napkin he flicked at her.

"Watch that mouth, young lady," he warned with a smirk. "I may be getting old, but I've still got the moves to embarrass you."

Before she could stop him, Tom did a quick little jig, shaking his hips in an exaggerated, ridiculous manner.

Severa pinched the bridge of her nose. "Merlin's beard, I need a real drink after seeing that."

Tom only grinned, snatching the empty glass from in front of her and replaced it with another apple juice. "Not until you eat."

She sighed, finally popping the chip into her mouth. "There. Happy?"

He gave her a pointed look. "All of it."

Rolling her eyes, she grabbed another chip, chewing slowly to annoy him. "You're worse than a mother hen."

"And yet, you're still here." Tom leaned on the counter, watching her. "Now, are you going to actually talk about it, or are we just going to sit here pretending you're not ready to hex something?"

Severa scowled, tossed the chip she'd picked up back down on her plate, and gave him a mock glare. "I'm about to hex you," she declared, waving a hand over her plate. "Where's the bloody curry sauce?"

"Ha!" Tom chuckled, leaning on the bar with an amused glint in his eye. "You're right, love. How could I forget?"

With a flick of his fingers, a small sauce cup appeared on the bar between them. He slid it over with a flourish, smirking.

Severa sniffed in faux disdain but accepted the offering, dipping a chip with exaggerated precision. "Consider yourself spared," she said, popping it into her mouth.

Tom pressed a hand to his chest in mock relief. "Thank Merlin. I'd hate to meet my end over a sauce shortage."

She smirked, licking a stray drop from her thumb. "Next time, don't take the risk."

Tom laughed, shaking his head. "I'll be sure to stockpile it just for you."

"Smart man," Severa quipped, reaching for another chip.

It was quiet between the two of them while Severa munched away on her fish and chips. When she was halfway finished, Tom brought up the conversation again.

"So, what happened then? What put you in such a strop?"

Severa didn't answer immediately. Instead, she dipped her piece of cod fish into the golden curry sauce, watching as it clung to the crisp edges before popping the whole thing into her mouth.

The flavour was rich and familiar—mildly spiced with a hint of sweetness, the kind of warmth that didn't burn but lingered just enough to keep her reaching for more. There was something oddly comforting about it, a mix of salt, a touch of fruitiness, and that unmistakable chip shop tang. It wasn't proper curry, not by any stretch, but it had its own charm—thick, smooth, and just the right balance of savoury and sweet.

Honestly, it was her favourite part of eating fish and chips; she loved curry sauce and wasn't ashamed to admit she was slightly addicted to it.

She silently thanked whatever muggle came up with the golden goodness.

Severa grabbed a napkin and wiped her fingers as she chewed, savouring the taste. She took a sip of the apple juice beside her plate before saying, "When I got home, she'd left a pot on the burner—on high bloody heat—while she was off snogging her on-off boyfriend."

She scowled, drowning a handful of chips in the curry sauce, letting them soak as she looked at Tom. "The entire kitchen was nearly smoking! Not to mention, another pot ruined." With an annoyed huff, she shoved the now-soggy chips into her mouth, glaring at her plate as frustration bubbled up again. "Of all the boneheadedness, you'd think she'd at least try not to burn the flat down."

Tom raised an eyebrow. "And that's what's gotten you in a tiff?" He asked in slight disbelief. It was upsetting, yes. But from what he knew about the young muggle girl, she'd not only done this before, but she'd done much worse, and Severa had hardly batted an eye.

"Yes," she replied immediately before deflating. "No." A deep, weary sigh followed. "I don't know." She groaned and admitted, "I was horrible."

She shoved another chunk of curry-covered fish into her mouth, a tiny pout on her lips as she chewed, not looking at Tom. The more she thought about it, the more she realised that she may have overreacted.

Tom hummed in thought but didn't say anything. He could see that she was coming to terms with it herself. He'd known Severa since she was just a shy eleven-year-old girl hiding behind her mother's cloak visiting Diagon Alley for the first time. So he felt it was safe to say that he'd never known the girl to go off on one without a reason.

He leaned against the bar, watching her with a knowing look. "So, what is it then? What's really eating at you?"

Severa poked at another chip with unnecessary force, before dragging it through the curry sauce and shoving it into her mouth. She chewed slowly, staring down at her plate like it held the answers she didn't have.

"It's just…" She exhaled sharply, pushing her plate away. "I don't know. She's always been like this, yeah? Careless, forgetful, a bit of a mess, but it's never really pissed me off before. Not like this."

Tom nodded, wiping his hands on a rag. "And what's changed?"

"That's the thing, I don't know," she admitted, frustration tightening her shoulders. "Everything was going well today. I should've been in a good mood. I was in a good mood. I got a new job." She admits.

Tom gives her a bright smile "Good for you girl, a brain like yours deserves better than a muggle bookshop. Congratulations."

"Thanks," She says a bit shyly before crossing her arms, tapping her fingers against her sleeve. "Then I get home, and suddenly, I'm just… fuming. Over something stupid," she continues.

Tom studied her for a moment. "You ever consider that maybe it's not about her?"

Severa's brows furrowed, "What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "Could be something else setting you off, and she just happened to be in the blasting zone."

She rolled her eyes. "That's ridiculous."

"Is it?" Tom leaned forward, resting his elbows on the bar, his fingers linked together, and he rests his chin on them. "You've been working towards something lately, yeah? Putting things in place, setting up your future. And today, you made real progress."

Severa frowned but didn't interrupt.

"So maybe," he continued, "part of you was expecting to come home and feel… different like things had shifted. Like the world would recognise what you're building." He gestured vaguely. "But then you walk through the door, and the same old chaos awaits you. Like nothing's changed."

Severa stared at him, lips slightly parted, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face. The words sat heavy in the air between them, pressing into her like a weight she hadn't noticed before. It made sense—bloody hell, did it make sense. And yet, the realisation unsettled her, like tugging at a loose thread only to watch the whole thing unravel.

Had she come home expecting the air to feel different? For the universe to acknowledge what she was building with some small, invisible nod? For the first time in ages, it felt like things were moving forward, like the pieces of her plan were finally locking into place. But instead of settling into that feeling, she'd been dropped straight back into the same old mess, the same careless foolishness—like everything she'd been working toward had meant nothing at all.

Even though she was pleased with how the day had gone, there was still that nagging feeling—that small, unwanted hope—that something would have changed. That she might have walked into a world that was just a little bit different. Instead, she'd been met with smoke in the kitchen, another mess to clean up that wasn't hers but had been left for her all the same.

She scoffed, reaching for another chip. "Figures."

Tom chuckled, giving her an amused look. "You hate when I'm right, don't you?"

She scoffed, biting into the chip aggressively. "Shut up."

He grinned, shaking his head. "Like I said—lot of hate to carry, Vera."

Severa exhaled through her nose, her gaze followed Tom as he moved away to tend to another customer. With a quiet sigh, she lifted her glass and took another sip, only to scowl at the lingering taste of juice.

With a quick glance toward Tom—ensuring his back was turned—she leaned over the bar, fingers reaching for one of the firewhiskey bottles. Just as her hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle, a firm yet gentle grip closed around her wrist.

"No, girly, put it back."

Severa groaned, slumping back onto her stool as Tom pried the bottle from her grip with an amused smirk.

"Honestly, you act like I'm some reckless drunk," she muttered, folding her arms. "Or that I even get drunk often."

Tom snorted. "No, I act like a man who's known you since you were a girl, and also knows you're a mean drunk who likes to bite." He set the bottle back in its place and gave her a pointed look. "And you, my dear, bite hard."

She huffed, drumming her fingers against the bar. "Maybe I just wanted a drink."

"And maybe I was born yesterday," Tom shot back dryly.

Severa glared at him but didn't argue. Instead, she grabbed her plate and focused on finishing her food. She finished off the remaining chips with unnecessary aggression. The curry sauce was cold now, but she ate anyway, not wanting to give Tom the satisfaction of thinking he'd 'gotten through' to her.

Tom's lips curled into a knowing smile as he reached beneath the bar, pulling out a small purple box and placing it in front of her.

The moment her eyes landed on it, her heart almost skipped a beat. Glancing between him and the box, hesitation flickered in her expression before she slowly reached for it. "Are these…?" she whispered, unable to finish the question.

Tom chuckled, nodding. "Mhm, your favorite." His grin widened as he watched her eyes light up. "I always keep a few in stock."

A genuine smile broke across her face as she eagerly picked up the box, unable to contain the little wiggle of excitement in her seat as she flipped it open.

"Chocolate-covered strawberries!" she squealed softly, her voice filled with delight. She cleared her throat, a light blush crossing her face as she tried to act aloof "Thank you," she said not meeting his eyes.

Tom shook his head, chuckling at her reaction. "Merlin, you act like I just handed you a sack of galleons."

Unable to help herself, Severa ignored him, plucking one of the glossy, chocolate-drenched strawberries from the box. She took a bite, humming in satisfaction as the rich chocolate cracked under her teeth, giving way to the burst of sweet, ripe fruit beneath.

She had never been able to have this as a child. Chocolate was a luxury her mother couldn't afford, except on special days like her birthday. As well as strawberries, while they weren't exclusively for those with money, even when in season and cheaper, her mother rarely bought them for other affordable fruits.

Money was spent on providing her father with his beers.

Tom rested his elbows on the bar, smirking as he watched her all but melt over the treat. "Good, yeah?" he chuckled.

Severa nodded enthusiastically, licking a bit of chocolate from her thumb. "I have no idea where you get these, but I swear, I love you for them," she declared, swaying slightly in her seat as she popped the last bite into her mouth.

Tom let out a warm chuckle, shaking his head. "Flattery will get you nowhere," he teased, but there was a fondness in his voice. Leaning forward, he pressed a light kiss to her forehead, his rough hand briefly resting atop her head. "Anything for you, kiddo."

Severa hummed in response, the warmth of the gesture settling in her chest. For all her sharp edges, Tom had a way of smoothing them down, if only for a little while.

And not for the first time did Severa wonder, what would life have been like to have a father as warm and kind as Tom? Would her life have been very different than it was now? Her mother, at least, would've been happy.

Severa watched as Tom wandered off to pour a drink for someone. She was being silly; it didn't matter what life could've been like. All that matter was now and right now she hadn't managed to fuck up this relationship.

Silly girl, indeed, she thought to herself.

She needed to focus not on silly fantasies of warm fathers but on the here and now, specifically the glaring issue of Nicole.

Severa groaned and reached for another chocolate strawberry, biting into it absently. The sweetness lingered on her tongue, but the frustration didn't fade. Am I being unfair? She frowned, her thoughts turning over in her head. Nicole had messed up, yes, but was it really worth the storm she'd just brewed in her mind?

She had always played the role of the one who cleaned up, the one who kept things running smoothly. It wasn't that bad. She could fix it, like always. But for some reason, today, it felt like too much.

The guilt crept in quietly, tugging at her. She'd snapped, but maybe she hadn't needed to. She wiped her fingers on the napkin and glanced at Tom who was chatting with another customer. It wasn't the end of the world.

Still, there was something in her that wished things could be a bit more… smoother. But maybe that was too much to ask.

With a heavy sigh, Severa pushed herself away from the bar, shaking off the last of her irritation. She slipped her coat back on and shoved the last few chips into her mouth and drank the last of the juice. The day wasn't going to fix itself, and neither was her relationship with Nicole.

Tom came over as she was getting ready to leave. "You off, love?" He asked.

Severa nodded "Yeah, I should apologise at the very least."

"Atta girl," He said agreeing with her. And as she pulled some money out of her pocket to pay for the food, Tom waved her off. "Don't even. This was my treat, hm?"

A well of affection rose up in her towards the old man, she nodded a little and smiled at him. "Okay, thank you, Tom."

The next time she came in she'd bring him something nice.

"Mm, off you pop, then. Be careful on your way home, and good luck sorting out that mess!"

Severa just grinned in response and nicked another chocolate strawberry –making Tom swipe at her good-naturedly– and waved goodbye.