Can't Trace Time || Severus and Gail
With a wave of her hand, Gail locked the shop for the evening.  Another day, another dollar - wasn’t that what the muggles said?  Reaching up to tighten the bun which held her wand, the woman stretched and gave a small grimace as bones began to crackle and pop.  Today’s on-again, off-again rain hadn’t done her joints much good.  “Sounds like I’m getting old, doesn’t it, Agnes?” she joked with the marmalade tabby stretched across her counter.  The feline merely looked at her with a bored expression before yawning and stretching, too.  “One of these days you’re going to have to tell me how you do it, y’know - being as old as you are, but still acting like you’re in the prime of life."
With a soft laugh, the witch reached out to stroke her long-time companion, and then walked towards the door which led from the shop to her house.  “Tell the others I’ll have dinner ready in a minute, yeah?” Then she stepped into the kitchen and began preparing two meals - one for herself, and one for her furred companions.  It didn’t take long to get things started - a pasta dish for herself and some leftover pulled pork for the cats.  With all ten of their food bowls hovering around her, Gail stepped into the back garden and carefully lowered each dish to an overhang against the wall.  Even when the weather was poor - like today - it kept them safe from the elements while they ate.
Gradually, her furry entourage began to arrive from here and there, and Gail was about to go back inside when something out in the darkness of the yard caught her eye.  Immediately her gaze flew to the small, side room where she worked on her potions, making sure someone hadn’t managed to get past her wards and help themselves to the ingredients she kept stored within.  Thankfully, everything seemed to be in order.  Thunder rumbled high above her, and the witch shivered as more rain began to fall.  Choosing to ignore the movement, she turned to head back into the warmth of her kitchen when a sound focused her attention on the far shed where most of her gardening equipment was stored.  The door was swinging slowly back and forth with the wind, and the witch tried to remember if she’d latched it properly the last time she’d been out.
Although the war was long over, and the woman no longer felt the drive to keep her home here in muggle London a secret, she still preferred to err on the side of caution.  Pulling her wand out of her hair bun, she made her way over to the shed, and picked up a small oil lamp sitting by the door.  With a whispered spell, a flame flickered to life within as Gail pushed the door open - wand in one hand, lamp in the other.  The light danced off of piles of equipment and fertilizer, reminding her, not for the first time, that she really needed to clean the shed out once every decade or so.  Taking a deep breath, the witch stepped inside, and although she felt a bit silly about it, she called out softly, “Hello?  Is someone in here?”
