#Taxi 1998

[dumdolphin]

[elbovari]

Let me ask you a question: Do your interrogations always end up like this, or are you just trying to impress me?

Taxi, Luc Besson (1998)

[spockvarietyhour]

Taxi (1998)

[mateushonrado]

Signature scene from this film

Status Post #11454: The film in question? The 1998 film Taxi.

[movieprints]

Taxi (1998)

[leadendeath]

one of my silly little new years resolutions was to watch at least one new movie a month… Whoops. ah no worries i can just start again whenever !! (and to be fair i got really sick last month plus have been Hyperfixating on Albums. oh how i wish u could properly listen to an album + watch a movie + do many other things at the same time. probably an adhd thing there)

...yknow i get a weird kind of commitment issue almost with movies. what if this alters my brain chemistry forever. like.....

the first and only time i watched taxi driver it was 2019? i wanna say? i kept using different emails back then to get netflix "free trials" lmao and i saw that one like ‘oh that’s a famous movie; wonder what it’s like’

... knowing nothing about it, i finally decided to take it out of my ‘To Watch’ list one rainy insomnia-plagued night.

(can you see where this is going?)

my god. i have not watched it since, because I fear I cannot replicate the perfection of that time. It’s incredible.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Lies, damned lies, and Uber

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me TONIGHT in PHOENIX (Changing Hands, Feb 29) then Tucson (Mar 10-11), San Francisco (Mar 13), and more!

Uber lies about everything, especially money. Oh, and labour. Especially labour. And geometry. Especially geometry! But especially especially money. They constantly lie about money.

Uber are virtuosos of mendacity, but in Toronto, the company has attained a heretofore unseen hat-trick: they told a single lie that is dramatically, materially untruthful about money, labour and geometry! It's an achievement for the ages.

Here's how they did it.

For several decades, Toronto has been clobbered by the misrule of a series of far-right, clownish mayors. This was the result of former Ontario Premier Mike Harris's great gerrymander of 1998, when the city of Toronto was amalgamated with its car-dependent suburbs. This set the tone for the next quarter-century, as these outlying regions – utterly dependent on Toronto for core economic activity and massive subsidies to pay the unsustainable utility and infrastructure bills for sprawling neighborhoods of single-family homes – proceeded to gut the city they relied on.

These "conservative" mayors – the philanderer, the crackhead, the sexual predator – turned the city into a corporate playground, swapping public housing and rent controls for out-of-control real-estate speculation and trading out some of the world's best transit for total car-dependency. As part of that decay, the city rolled out the red carpet for Uber, allowing the company to put as many unlicensed taxis as they wanted on the city's streets.

Now, it's hard to overstate the dire traffic situation in Toronto. Years of neglect and underinvestment in both the roads and the transit system have left both in a state of near collapse and it's not uncommon for multiple, consecutive main arteries to shut down without notice for weeks, months, or, in a few cases, years. The proliferation of Ubers on the road – driven by desperate people trying to survive the city's cost-of-living catastrophe – has only exacerbated this problem.

Uber, of course, would dispute this. The company insists – despite all common sense and peer-reviewed research – that adding more cars to the streets alleviates traffic. This is easily disproved: there just isn't any way to swap buses, streetcars, and subways for cars. The road space needed for all those single-occupancy cars pushes everything further apart, which means we need more cars, which means more roads, which means more distance between things, and so on.

It is an undeniable fact that geometry hates cars. But geometry loathes Uber. Because Ubers have all the problems of single-occupancy vehicles, and then they have the separate problem that they just end up circling idly around the city's streets, waiting for a rider. The more Ubers there are on the road, the longer each car ends up waiting for a passenger:

https://www.sfgate.com/technology/article/Uber-Lyft-San-Francisco-pros-cons-ride-hailing-13841277.php

Anything that can't go on forever eventually stops. After years of bumbling-to-sinister municipal rule, Toronto finally reclaimed its political power and voted in a new mayor, Olivia Chow, a progressive of long tenure and great standing (I used to ring doorbells for her when she was campaigning for her city council seat). Mayor Chow announced that she was going to reclaim the city's prerogative to limit the number of Ubers on the road, ending the period of Uber's "self-regulation."

Uber, naturally, lost its shit. The company claims to be more than a (geometrically impossible) provider of convenient transportation for Torontonians, but also a provider of good jobs for working people. And to prove it, the company has promised to pay its drivers "120% of minimum wage." As I write for Ricochet, that's a whopper, even by Uber's standards:

https://ricochet.media/en/4039/uber-is-lying-again-the-company-has-no-intention-of-paying-drivers-a-living-wage

Here's the thing: Uber is only proposing to pay 120% of the minimum wage while drivers have a passenger in the vehicle. And with the number of vehicles Uber wants on the road, most drivers will be earning nothing most of the time. Factor in that unpaid time, as well as expenses for vehicles, and the average Toronto Uber driver stands to make $2.50 per hour (Canadian):

https://ridefair.ca/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/Legislated-Poverty.pdf

Now, Uber's told a lot of lies over the years. Right from the start, the company implicitly lied about what it cost to provide an Uber. For its first 12 years, Uber lost $0.41 on every dollar it brought in, lighting tens of billions in investment capital provided by the Saudi royals on fire in an effort to bankrupt rival transportation firms and disinvestment in municipal transit.

Uber then lied to retail investors about the business-case for buying its stock so that the House of Saud and other early investors could unload their stock. Uber claimed that they were on the verge of producing a self-driving car that would allow them to get rid of drivers, zero out their wage bill, and finally turn a profit. The company spent $2.5b on this, making it the most expensive Big Store in the history of cons:

https://www.theinformation.com/articles/infighting-busywork-missed-warnings-how-uber-wasted-2-5-billion-on-self-driving-cars

After years, Uber produced a "self-driving car" that could travel one half of one American mile before experiencing a potentially lethal collision. Uber quietly paid another company $400m to take this disaster off its hands:

https://www.economist.com/business/2020/12/10/why-is-uber-selling-its-autonomous-vehicle-division

The self-driving car lie was tied up in another lie – that somehow, automation could triumph over geometry. Robocabs, we were told, would travel in formations so tight that they would finally end the Red Queen's Race of more cars – more roads – more distance – more cars. That lie wormed its way into the company's IPO prospectus, which promised retail investors that profitability lay in replacing every journey – by car, cab, bike, bus, tram or train – with an Uber ride:

https://www.reuters.com/article/idUSKCN1RN2SK/

The company has been bleeding out money ever since – though you wouldn't know it by looking at its investor disclosures. Every quarter, Uber trumpets that it has finally become profitable, and every quarter, Hubert Horan dissects its balance sheets to find the accounting trick the company thought of this time. There was one quarter where Uber declared profitability by marking up the value of stock it held in Uber-like companies in other countries.

How did it get this stock? Well, Uber tried to run a business in those countries and it was such a total disaster that they had to flee the country, selling their business to a failing domestic competitor in exchange for stock in its collapsing business. Naturally, there's no market for this stock, which, in Uber-land, means you can assign any value you want to it. So that one quarter, Uber just asserted that the stock had shot up in value and voila, profit!

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2022/02/hubert-horan-can-uber-ever-deliver-part-twenty-nine-despite-massive-price-increases-uber-losses-top-31-billion.html

But all of those lies are as nothing to the whopper that Uber is trying to sell to Torontonians by blanketing the city in ads: the lie that by paying drivers $2.50/hour to fill the streets with more single-occupancy cars, they will turn a profit, reduce the city's traffic, and provide good jobs. Uber says it can vanquish geometry, economics and working poverty with the awesome power of narrative.

In other words, it's taking Toronto for a bunch of suckers.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/29/geometry-hates-uber/#toronto-the-gullible

Image: Rob Sinclair (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Night_skyline_of_Toronto_May_2009.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/deed.en

[weezeranitsweezy]

me an @lifeofafangirl1

me and my gang!

[johns-prince]

if you don’t mind, what are some of your favorite soft mclennon moments?

JOHN: I used to try to get George to rebel with me. I’d say to him, “Look, we don’t need these fuckin’ suits. Let’s chuck them out of the window.” My little rebellion was to have my tie loose with the top button of my shirt undone. Paul’d always come up to me and put it straight. [x]

PAUL: There’s a story that I used to straighten John’s tie before we went on stage. That seems to have become a symbol of what my attitude was supposed to have been. I’ve never straightened anyone’s tie in my life, except perhaps affectionately.

The Times Profile of Paul McCartney - 1982 [x]

“And John and Paul thought back to the time they’d been in Paris before. Flat-broke, unable to afford a taxi, without funds for a decent meal. ‘Maybe we’ll buy the Eiffel Tower this time’, said John with a grin.”

“The Beatles in Paris.” Beatles Book Monthly Magazine No. 8 (March 1964). [x]

““Okay, okay,” I said, “don’t go on, John.” I felt a surge of embarrassment because my instrument was the cause of such hilarity. “Look guys, that’s enough. What have you two been doing while we’ve been struggling to get here? I hope you’ve done some practising and got the song list sorted out?” I was getting more and more annoyed as this episode was dragging on. “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry Len. Paul and I have got it all sorted out. Haven’t we Paul? Paul! Paul! I said haven’t we Paul?” Paul McCartney looked up with a wry smile and paused. “Tonight will run just like clockwork. I am going to give the audience the best rendition of ‘Guitar Boogie’ they have ever heard this side of Garston.” “Hey, this is a new twist,” I said. “Paul just cracked a joke. He must have a sense of humour after all, John, shall we have him in the group?” John was enjoying the banter as ever. “Yeah, we’ll give him another try and if you don’t get it right this time, Jimmy,” Jimmy (James) was Paul’s first name, “then…” John waited to see the expression on Paul’s face. “Then we’ll,” again a pause, and by this time we were hanging on John’s next words, “then we’ll have to send him for some more guitar lessons!” Paul joined in the laughter and at that we were all back to normal.”

— Len Garry, John, Paul and Me: Before The Beatles. (1997) [x]

“One of my great memories of John is from when we were having some argument. I was disagreeing and we were calling each other names. We let it settle for a second and then he lowered his glasses and he said: “It’s only me.” And then he put his glasses back on again. To me, that was John. Those were the moments when I actually saw him without the facade, the armour, which I loved as well, like anyone else. It was a beautiful suit of armour. But it was wonderful when he let the visor down and you’d just see the John Lennon that he was frightened to reveal to the world.” [x]

“Whatever bad things John said about me, he would also slip his glasses down to the end of his nose and say, ’I love you’. That’s really what I hold on to. That’s what I believe. The rest is showing off.” [x]

“I remember being shocked one day when John started worrying about how people would remember him when he was gone. It was an incredibly vulnerable thing for him to come out with. I said to him then, ‘They’ll remember you as a fucking genius, because that’s what you are. But, you won’t give a shit because you’ll be up there, flying across the universe.’” [x]

“If John Lennon could come back for a day, how would you spend it with him?”  “In bed.” — Paul McCartney answers questions for Q magazine, 1998. [x]

“John and I grew up like twins although he was a year and a half older than me. We grew up literally in the same bed because when we were on holiday, hitchhiking or whatever, we would share a bed. Or when we were writing songs as kids he’d be in my bedroom or I’d be in his. Or he’d be in my front parlour or I’d be in his, although his Aunt Mimi sometimes kicked us out into the vestibule!”

— September 26, 1997, “Paul McCartney - Meet The Beatle” by Steve Richards [x]

“We were recording the other night, and I just wasn’t there. Neither was Paul. We were like two robots going through the motions. We do need each other alot. When we used to get together after a month off, we used to be embarrassed about touching each other. We’d do an elaborate handshake just to hide the embarrassment… or we did mad dances. Then we got to hugging each other.”

— John Lennon, The Beatles by Hunter Davies [x]

Q: “What musician and composer do you respect most?” Paul: “No, I don’t know, really... John Lennon!” John: *mock-shy* “...Paul McCartney.” [x]

conversations with mccartney, paul du noyer [x]

“It was 8:30. I could hear people talking about the likelihood of a storm later on that evening. I can remember hoping that it would clear up before my cycle ride back to Wavertree. Up to now it had been an eventful day but very tiring and as a group, although committed to playing, we all wished that we could pack up and go home. All of us apart from John Lennon. I think that meeting Paul had whetted his appetite and by the time we went on stage for our session at 8:45 he looked refreshed and seemed to have a new sparkle, as though he had had an injection of renewed optimism and enthusiasm as he played and sang through our usual repertoire that evening. […] I went outside for some air and a smoke; John and Pete decided to come with me. We stood outside pulling on our cigarettes, enjoying the breeze that had risen with the oncoming storm. “Do you know, John,” remarked Pete as we stood outside, “I’ve never heard you sound as good as you did just then. I know you’re going to say that I’m not very musical but I could hear the difference. I can see that something’s happened to you. Even the skiffle numbers which I know you’re not that keen on sounded good. You seem to have put more effort into them.” “Pete’s right, John. I couldn’t help noticing it as well,” I said. John was silent for a few minutes, just enjoying his smoke. “I guess someone took the trouble to share what he knew with me and it’s just given me a little encouragement for the future, that’s all.” “Oh I see, you’re getting a little sentimental in your old age, aren’t you,” joked Pete, who had never seen his life-long friend in that light before. “Don’t be thick, Pete,” replied John, who seemed almost back to his normal abrupt self. “Come on, I need a drink.”” — Len Garry, John, Paul and Me: Before The Beatles. (1997) [x]

[x]

Paul's persistence and endless patience for John while he was dealing with the death of his mother Julia:

But Paul seemed to have limitless patience for John, sneaking away from his classes to drink coffee at the Jacaranda coffeehouse, or else spend the afternoon nursing pints and punching rock ‘n’ roll songs on the jukebox at Ye Cracke pub. Certainly, Paul preferred hanging out with his friend to grinding through lectures and assignments at his schoolboy’s desk at the Liverpool Institute. But the hours they spent together held an emotional significance, too. For even if they rarely spoke about the pain of losing their mothers, the mutual feelings of loss—and the rawness of John’s wound—gave them a connection that was as vital as it was unspoken. It was, Paul said later, a “special bond for us, something of ours, a special thing.” … “We could look at each other,” Paul said, “and know.”” 

…

John, however, had other things on his mind. Though the fall of 1958 and well into 1959, John was far too busy engaging in art-school life—if not exactly his studies—to think much about playing in a rock ‘n’ roll band. He had started dating another student, a quiet blonde from the relatively posh Hoylake district on the Wirral, named Cynthia Powell. She proved a warm, stabilizing influence, which helped mitigate John’s ongoing grief and rage.

He had also grown particularly close to one of the school’s most promising students, a blazingly talented painter named Stuart Sutcliffe, whose emotional portraits and densely wrought abstracts had already caught the eye of the university’s instructors, along with the gallery owners, artists and critics who orbited the bohemian section that bordered the campus. John had been drawn to Stu’s talent, too, and when his classmate invited John to move into his large, if downtrodden, flat around the corner from the college in a row of once-elegant homes on Gambier Terrace, the two art students became even closer. The flat became a hub for their college friends, a reliable address for drinking bouts and all-night parties.

 Nevertheless, Paul made certain not to be a stranger. He was a regular around Gambier Terrace, often toting his guitar to spur a little playing and singing, and if circumstance permitted, a bit of songwriting. John remained an eager music fan, and generally enthusiastic partner for playing and singing. But his disinterest in the band, prompted at least in part by his deepening friendship with Stu, frustrated Paul. 

…

John was moving on, and not in a promising direction. George, for his part, had grown sick of waiting and joined the jazz-and-skiffle centered Les Stewart Quartet, though he made it clear to Paul he’d be back with the Quarrymen whenever they resumed playing. Paul, on the other hand, wasn’t interested in playing with anyone else. For whatever combination of emotional or visceral reasons, he couldn’t seem to imagine a musical life that didn’t include John Lennon as his primary partner.

So he persisted, dragging his guitar to Gambier Terrace, making himself a fixture amid the empty beer bottles, overflowing ashtrays, shattered Vicks inhalers, and paint-splattered clothes.

If John didn’t evince any interest in being in a band, Paul would simply wait, guitar at the ready, until he did.

— Peter Ames Carlin, Paul McCartney: A Life [x]

[shihlun]

There were a lot of Japanese films featuring Koji Yakusho at the front seat of the car, and Wenders' "Perfect Days" doesn't even rank in the top ten in my mind.

Masato Harada

- Kamikaze Taxi

1995

Kiyoshi Kurosawa

- Cure

1997

Yoshimitsu Morita

- Lost Paradise

1997

Shohei Imamura

- The Eel

1997

Kiyoshi Kurosawa

- License to Live

1999

Shinji Aoyama

- Eureka

2000

Kiyoshi Kurosawa

- Doppelganger

2003

Shinji Aoyama

- Lakeside Murder Case

2004

Kiyoshi Kurosawa

- Tokyo Sonata

2008

Jun Ichikawa

- Tadon and Chikuwa

1998

[nocternalrandomness]

F-117 taxiing to the runway at Williams Gateway Airport, Az - March 1998

[marjoch]

YOU’VE GOT MAIL

(or: jayvik inspired by the 1998 film starring meg ryan & tom hanks!)

CHAPTER TWO!!

early updates on ao3 @ josmarch

Over the course of the next few days, messages continued to be exchanged between NY1972 and Tinkerman. They exchanged stories of their college years, and talked about how they came to be in New York. On the morning of the inventor’s fair, Viktor considered mentioning the event to NY1972. He decided against it. He liked how intelligent their conversations seemed, and he didn’t want to make it awkward.

When he arrived at the Shop, Sky was waiting early and eager as always. Today she held two cups of coffee, one of which she offered to Viktor once they made it inside. Viktor accepted, but left it on the counter, much too distracted by his thoughts.

He spent time resting before the fair was set to begin, if “resting” meant pondering over the notes he’d dutifully been taking. He needed the chance to sit down, anyway. These days he was noticing a decline in his health, something he’d been warily anticipating. It was only a matter of time before he was using a crutch to get around anywhere, and the time accelerated faster each day. His research was becoming more dire by the minute.

Meanwhile, Mel was returning home from her business trip. Jayce was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for her return. He had the day off, but he was planning to go down to the research facility and organize his office to make the upcoming work week easier. He was also finding it difficult to sit around these days: like it or not, the ongoing conversation on AIM was occupying his mind.

Mel seemed overwhelmed by the trip, rushing into the apartment in a mood. She was on the phone, passionately talking about something Jayce couldn’t make intelligible through her fervor. He loved how focused she was on her work. He also mourned life before the election, when his work felt just as important.

She looked beautiful as ever standing her ground on the call, and Jayce didn’t have the heart to interrupt her. He wrote her a note and left it on the counter, heading out for the day. The usual taxi ride to Brooklyn was notably longer today, the result of an accident on the bridge. By the time the driver was pulling up to the destination, Jayce was itching to get out of the car. Three blocks from Talis Technologies, he noticed the crowd around The Shop Around The Corner.

“Here is fine,” he said to the driver, who promptly pulled over. Jayce paid the fare and exited, looking around at the fair.

Tables had been set up outside the shop, expanding the space for new creations to be brought in by outside sources. People were walking around the inside and outside of the Shop, looking at everything, conversing amongst themselves. Passerby had trouble fitting through the crowd to continue their journeys. Jayce noticed a few opting to continue on the other side of the street. He was on his way to do the same when he heard a woman’s voice behind him.

“Hey!”

Jayce turned, and saw the woman who worked at the shop. He couldn’t remember her name. “Oh, hi.”

“Leaving so soon?” she questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Just passing through,” he said.

The woman smiled. “That’s alright, he didn’t expect you to stop by at all.” Before Jayce could inquire what she meant, she continued, “I’m Sky, if you forgot. You’re…?”

“Jayce,” he responded, realizing she’d missed his introduction the first time. “I’m going to get going, but it was nice to see you.” He gave her a little wave before he crossed the street.

From the crowd, Viktor watched him go. He had something to say about it later that evening when he returned home.

Do you ever get the sense that people hide who they really are? I’ve had encounters lately that make me rethink my perception of humanity. I know a lot, but I cannot deduce what motivates my new neighbor. What motivates the city, even. Have you experienced this feeling before? Tinkerman

It wasn’t long before there was another response. Viktor was growing used to the accelerating rate of their messaging. It’d been awhile since he connected with someone like this, even if they were internet strangers.

I get what you mean. I believe we all hide ourselves in some way, even if just to protect who we think we are. The anonymity of the internet and the vastness of society make it easy, almost. It also makes me wonder who you really are on the other side of this. NY1972

Viktor read the message and sat, processing. He had the urge to open up, to tell NY1972 everything about himself. He refrained, though. NY1972 beat him to a response, a second message appearing on the screen.

I hate to cut our conversation short, but I have obligations. It’s bound to be boring, wish me luck. Talk to you later. NY1972

Viktor responded, just so NY1972 knew he had read it and was awaiting further conversation.

Good luck. You’re very capable of whatever it is you’ve got going on. Talk to you later. Tinkerman

As much as he already missed talking to NY1972, Viktor also had somewhere to be. In an effort to transition his research to a better facility, he’d found his way into a cocktail hour designed for business networking. It was in downtown Manhattan, so Viktor cleaned up and got on the metro within the next hour, planning to be fashionably late.

The event took place in a high-rise, and Viktor took the elevator up to the top floor. There was music playing, and tables full of finger foods, and an open bar off to the left. Viktor chose to visit the former, looking over the selection of fruit, cheese, and small sandwiches.

“You must be Viktor,” said a female voice to his right. He looked over, and saw a recognizable face. “Your mother and mine were close friends. I’m not sure if you remember me.”

“Senator Medarda,” Viktor said. “Of course I remember. It’s been a long time.”

“Please, call me Mel,” she responded, shaking her head. It was now that Viktor realized that the man behind her was also recognizable. He didn’t have to say anything, because Mel grabbed the man’s hand. “This is my boyfriend, Jayce Talis. Jayce, this is Viktor, an old family friend.”

“We’ve met,” Jayce said, nodding. He was holding a plate that he had been loading up with snacks. Viktor noticed the way he preferred to look at Mel, almost intentional. “It’s nice to see you again, Viktor.

“Do you want anything from the bar?” Mel asked, turning to Jayce.

“Cabernet,” Jayce responded. “Or just water, if they’re out.”

Mel gave him a kiss, and swiftly left the scene. Jayce picked up a spoon and used it to take a bit of caviar from a plate below him.

“You work for Talis Technologies,” Viktor connected the dots. “I don’t know why I didn’t recognize you before.”

“You keep stealing my grants,” Jayce remarked, taking another bit of the caviar and adding it to the rest of the growing pile on his plate.

“You moved into my area of town,” Viktor said. “If anything, you’re stealing my grants.” Another bit of the caviar made its way to Jayce’s plate. Viktor couldn’t remain silent. “That caviar is a garnish.”

Jayce made direct eye contact with him, scooped up the majority of the remaining caviar, and put it on his place before turning and crossing the room towards his lover. Viktor had nothing else to say, watching him go.

Viktor made his rounds circling the room, introducing and reintroducing himself to possible investors. In the midst of socializing, he found that he was tiring out much earlier than expected. He ended up in the bathroom, staring himself in the mirror, weighing the future possibilities of slowly declining into immobility and illness or ending it all before it got too bad.

Jayce was on the other side of the door when Viktor exited, so close that they nearly collided.

“Sorry,” was Jayce’s instinct response. Seeing who it was, Viktor sensed that he may have wished he could revoke the apology. Viktor pressed onward past him, making a beeline for the elevator.

The metro ride home was sobering, but Viktor had consumed no substances. When he made it home, he collapsed onto his bed, forgoing changing into something more comfortable before succumbing to sleep. He dreamt of Jayce, which was unexpected yet surprisingly welcome. Upon waking, he made a pact to erase it from his memory.

[spockvarietyhour]

Today's Rewatch!

[ultimate-anime-tournament]

Ultimate Anime Tournament: Round 3, Matchup 6

[elviraahancock]

About me !

- hiii !! i'm kayla anne, but u can call anne or kayla i don't mind !!

- My favourite actors are Al Pacino, Robert De Niro, Marlon Brando, Michelle Pfeiffer, Vivien Leigh, Angelina Jolie, Helena Bonham Carter, Edward Norton, and Brad Pitt

- some of my favourite movies are - the godfather (1972), the godfather part II (1974), raging bull (1980), scarface (1983), elvis (2022), pulp fiction (1997), girl interrupted (1999), blue hawaii (1961), king creole (1958), the virgin suicides (1999), buffalo 66 (1998), brokeback mountain (2006), grease (1978), jackie (2016), serpico (1973), and taxi driver (1976)

- my birthday is the 26 of october !! i'm from south africa but i moved to western europe 2 years ago!

- my idols are - sylvia plath, kate moss, naomi campbell, shalom harlow, lana del rey, marina, lisa marie presley, marilyn monroe, sharon tate, ann margret, twiggy, jacqueline kennedy,elvis presley, carolyn bessette, JFK, and JFK JR <3

- my favourite shows are - the sopranos (1999), euphoria (2019), brooklyn nine-nine (2013), south park (1997), american horror story (2011), gilmore girls (2000) little pony (1986 & 2010) !!

- musicians i like are - lana del rey, alex g, elvis presley, the little dippers, marilyn monroe, marina, melanie martinez, koRn, motley crue, guns n roses, oasis, nirvana, my bloody valentine, the smiths, megadeth, skeeter davis, dominic fike, the beatles, david bowie, mitski, frank ocean, deftones, lalleshwari (katie jane garside), lesley gore, richie valens, buddy holly, amy winehouse, chuck berry, little richie, big mama thornton, lisa marie presley, paul anka and the excellents !!!

- if you like anything that i mentioned lets be friends !! feel free to ask me anything !!

[psychooomind]

Mixed Signals - 9

Severus Snape x reader

Summary: Set between 1989 and 1998, Severus Snape and Katya Borislova attend the European Potioneers' Assemblies, where they meet and begin a pen pal friendship that confuses them both.

This is a prequel to another of my Harry Potter fanfics, The New Founders.

A multi-entry, slow-burn, colleagues to lovers, smut

Chapter 1. Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

You can also read it at AO3 here.

Wiltshire - 29 June 1994 - Tea Time

29 June 1994

The summer morning in Wiltshire was stifling. The sky was clear, and a faint breeze rustled the trees surrounding Malfoy Manor. Katya stepped out of the taxi that had taken her directly from Trowbridge to the Malfoy estate. She had opted to travel to Trowbridge by train, as her apparition permits had not yet been approved by the Ministry. She wore a simple light blue dress with buttons down the front and a wide-brimmed hat to shield herself from the sun. In her hands, she carried her briefcase and her work laptop case. She had received an invitation to discuss the Malfoy family's finances with the lady of the house, something out of the ordinary. Katya assumed Narcissa had questions or concerns regarding the family's money.

A house-elf, dressed in nothing but rags, opened the door and bowed its head without meeting her eyes. "Miss Borislova," the elf said, bowing so low that its pointed nose nearly touched the floor. Katya felt a pang in her chest; she recognised the same elf who had served cocktails at a Malfoy gala, though on that occasion, it had been dressed elegantly.

She wondered whether the Malfoys were cruel masters to the poor creature and was reminded of how her own brothers treated the house-elves at their mansion in Rostov.

The elf led her to the main sitting room, where Narcissa Malfoy awaited her beside a small white marble table. Narcissa was impeccably dressed in a cream linen ensemble that accentuated her aristocratic poise.

Katya noticed the measured coldness in Narcissa’s expression, something typical of pure-blood families, but also a hint of curiosity that seemed at odds with the reserved demeanour of the Malfoys. The woman extended her hand slightly.

"Miss Borislova," Narcissa greeted her with a faint smile. "I hope the journey wasn’t too troublesome. I noticed you arrived in a Muggle vehicle."

"Not at all, Mrs Malfoy," Katya replied with a formal nod. "Yes, I am… I am currently staying in a Muggle neighbourhood, and my apparition permit for England hasn’t been approved yet."

"Oh, I thought Lucius was taking care of that," Narcissa said dismissively. "Well, I shall remind him to ensure you don’t have to endure such an inconvenience again." She gestured towards the chair, inviting Katya to sit at the table. "I’d like to go over the reports here."

"Of course, Mrs Malfoy," Katya replied, taking a moment to place her belongings on the adjacent chair and retrieve the folder containing the family's property records. "I’m not sure which of the assets you’d like to start with..."

"I’m also curious to know more about you," Narcissa said with a pleased smile. "After all, Lucius returned from Russia quite fascinated after his meeting with your father, and we haven’t had the opportunity for a woman-to-woman conversation to properly introduce ourselves. Besides, it’s rare for us to host someone so… distinguished around here," she added, her words cutting off any chance for interruption.

Katya recognised the subtext in Narcissa's words. The woman was trying to gauge her, to learn more about her. Katya wondered if Narcissa might feel jealous of her husband and silently hoped that wasn’t the case. Lucius was simply a friend of her father’s, someone she had known since childhood and regarded with nothing but respect as an acquaintance. It could also just be a subtle attempt to assess her stance or character. If there was one thing she had learned from the tedious galas and gatherings at the Borislov mansion, it was that everyone wanted to know everything about everyone else. But Katya had been taught discretion from a young age. As a member of a Russian pure-blood family, she was used to such tests of character. She offered a polite smile as she opened her briefcase.

“Well… I’m not sure what you’d like to know, Mrs Malfoy, but I am here simply to serve… first my father, and then your family, to the best of my ability,” Katya replied carefully.

Narcissa nodded.

“Tell me about yourself. Lucius mentioned that you pursued a degree at a Muggle university,” Narcissa said, snapping her fingers. A small bell appeared beside her, floating in the air. She gave it a shake, and the house-elf appeared at her side. “Bring a glass of claret and… whatever Miss Borislova would prefer.”

The elf looked at her expectantly. Katya hesitated over what to drink.

“Dry sherry?” she asked, and the elf nodded.

“Interesting choice. As I said, I want this meeting to be entirely relaxed,” Narcissa said with a faint smile. Katya, on the other hand, wondered if it was normal to drink mid-morning. “Now, you were about to tell me about your academic experience.”

Katya nodded.

“Well… I hold a master’s degree in Economics from Lomonosov Moscow State University, along with accountancy certifications from RANEPA. I also had the benefit of my father’s mentorship and gained practical experience managing the Budget Department at Borislov Enterprises,” Katya explained, feeling like she was in a job interview as she outlined her academic achievements. “In fact, I submitted my thesis last year, so I’ve only recently graduated.”

The house-elf quickly returned and placed a tall glass in front of her without so much as glancing up, before doing the same for its mistress. Katya took a sip as Narcissa nodded thoughtfully.

“What made you decide to study alongside Muggles?”

Katya drew a breath and took another sip of her drink.

“Well… my family’s business has a close relationship with the non-magical market in Russia. It would be… unwise for both me and my brothers…” Katya hesitated, trying to be discreet about mentioning her brothers, “to be unprepared to step into my father’s shoes.”

“Did it not bother you? Studying alongside them?”

Katya clasped her fingers beneath the table.

“We all have to make… sacrifices for our family,” she said, carefully keeping her position on certain ideals neutral.

“An incredibly astute answer, Miss Borislova,” Narcissa said with a smile before taking a sip of her drink for the first time. “Now, could you tell me how many properties we own in England?”

Katya nodded and presented the family’s property folders. Over the next few hours, the young woman explained the fluctuations in the Malfoys’ investments and suggested adjustments to certain financial arrangements, such as selling off properties in less profitable neighbourhoods and acquiring others in London’s most prestigious areas to improve the family’s capital.

Narcissa listened attentively, though she occasionally steered the conversation towards personal topics, which Katya answered with poise.

“Tell me, are you currently in a relationship?” Narcissa asked, now smoking elegantly from a silver cigarette holder.

Katya, slightly taken aback by the question, took a moment to consider her response.

“No,” she replied honestly. “If I’m being truthful, I haven’t had the time for such things.”

Narcissa nodded, smiling again with evident satisfaction. After a while, following an intense discussion of both professional and personal matters, Mrs Malfoy suggested a break while they awaited lunch.

“Perhaps you’d like to visit our library while I attend to a few matters,” she offered. “It’s a space that reflects our… family history. I’m sure you’ll find it intriguing.” Narcissa led her to the library. “You might even run into Draco there—he enjoys reading in solitude.”

Katya nodded and accepted, grateful for the opportunity to explore and gather any kind of information from the library that she could later add to her notebook and use to provide her father with useful data about the British.

The Malfoy library was impressive, with towering shelves of dark mahogany and thousands of volumes, many of them ancient and clearly valuable. However, in her mind, she couldn’t help but compare it to her family’s library in Rostov, which was much larger and had a more diverse collection, including works in Latin. As her fingers traced the spines of the books, a sound pulled her out of her thoughts.

Turning, she saw a pale-haired boy with grey eyes watching her from a nearby table. His hands were on the laptop she had left on the table when she entered, and the charger lay on the floor. His expression was one of pure scepticism. She had crossed paths with the boy before when he and his father had visited her at the Gringotts bank office.

“What is this?” the boy asked, his tone slightly haughty, as was characteristic of his family, though he couldn’t entirely mask his curiosity.

Katya stepped forward slowly, studying the boy. She had heard of him—the Malfoy heir—but had never met him in person.

“It’s a laptop,” she explained, offering a faint smile. “I use it to work for your parents.”

The boy nodded. Draco stared at her intently, studying her, and then nodded again.

“I’m surprised you’ve never seen a laptop before.”

“My parents say Muggle things are… unnecessary,” Draco replied with a dismissive wave of his hand, though his eyes remained fixed on the lit-up screen now resting on the table. “Although… it looks interesting,” he admitted, sitting down in front of the laptop.

Katya leaned forward to sit beside him, pressing a button to wake it up. The screen flickered to life, displaying graphs and documents she had been working on. The boy’s eyes widened in astonishment.

“It’s a very useful tool. Muggles don’t have magic, so they invent things like this to solve their problems. You can perform complex calculations, store information, and much more.”

“And can wizards use it too?” Draco leaned in closer, fascinated by the graphs on the screen.

Katya regarded him seriously.

“Of course, yes.” She gestured for him to move the cursor. “It’s not easy at first. Many of these devices don’t work well in areas with high magical concentration. But if you’re truly interested, I can teach you how to use it,” she said. The boy looked at her, a small frown forming on his forehead, before shaking his head.

“Understanding the Muggle world doesn’t mean accepting it, but it does make you… more functional, you know?”

“My family has always said Muggles have nothing to offer us, so I don’t see how a machine like this could make me more functional.” Draco frowned, clearly puzzled by her words.

“Well, it would keep you from falling behind compared to non-magical people, especially if all your family’s assets will one day be yours,” Katya said, offering him a kind smile. “You should have a judicious mind and learn to navigate both worlds.” She held his gaze, carefully choosing her words. “Your parents can tell you what to think, but in the end, it’s you who decides what to believe.”

Draco now watched her intently. “You’re young, Draco. You can form your own ideas.”

Katya felt deeply conflicted about the poor boy, trapped in ideals and a worldview that were not his own but had been instilled in him by his parents. It was as though he had been moulded within a gilded cage, with every thought and reaction shaped to fit a legacy he had not chosen. She couldn’t help but see a younger version of herself in him, caught in an endless cycle of parroting the hollow words her father used to proclaim with authority—words that glorified the purity of magical blood while ridiculing Muggles and half-bloods as little more than blemishes on a lineage that must be preserved at all costs.

She remembered how, at his age, she too had believed those tales. She had blindly admired her father as he boasted of his influence and power. But over time, Katya had begun to understand what lay behind those grandiose claims: a mixture of insecurities and unchecked ambitions, wrapped in a façade of supremacy. She recalled the secret meetings he held at the family mansion, where applause echoed as he closed million-Galleon deals with other wealthy wizards, always with the same coldness with which he dismissed anyone who didn’t share his ideals.

It had been painful to realise that she was nothing more than a pawn in her father’s game. Everything he had built, every lesson he had taught her, was nothing more than a tool to perpetuate his worldview—a vision that excluded anyone who did not meet his strict standards. And now, seeing that boy trapped in a similar fate, Katya felt a pang of compassion mingled with deep anger. No one deserved to grow up under the weight of such oppressive ideals, nor to be reduced to a mere instrument for fulfilling the grand ambitions of others.

Katya wished she could shake him, open his eyes before it was too late. But she knew she couldn’t force an awakening. Like her, he would have to come to his own conclusions, go through his own process of questioning and rebellion. All she could do was plant small seeds of doubt, offer him a different perspective, even if silently. After all, she herself had needed someone to show her that there was a world beyond the walls her father had built around her, and she was grateful to Wudan and Nikita for that.

Before Draco could respond, the library door creaked open, and a tall figure, draped in a black robe, stepped through the threshold with measured, deliberate strides: Severus Snape. Katya felt a barely perceptible jolt, though it was enough to send her mind racing with unsettling questions. What was he doing there? Was he following her? His presence, as always, seemed to darken the atmosphere, making even the sound of his boots against the floor echo with an authority that could not be ignored. Yet what unsettled her most was the effect he still had on her—a whirlwind of conflicting emotions she could not dispel.

From where she sat, she observed him carefully as he crossed the room with that piercing gaze of his, the kind that seemed to cut through to the deepest thoughts. For a moment, it occurred to her that he might have overheard her conversation with Draco. The idea made her uneasy. If Severus knew what she truly thought, if he had caught even a glimpse of the doubts she so meticulously concealed, he could unravel the fragile façade she had constructed.

However, before panic could take hold, Katya forced herself to take a deep breath and regained her composure. She could not afford to falter. Her freedom depended on it.

With practised calm, she adopted a relaxed posture, as though the man’s presence meant absolutely nothing to her. She turned her attention back to the laptop in front of her, pretending to study it with interest, though her senses remained attuned to Snape’s every movement.

"Professor Snape," greeted Draco, standing up immediately as though he had been caught doing something improper.

Severus glanced at Draco, then at Katya. His expression was unreadable, but his dark eyes seemed to assess the situation carefully.

"Draco, your mother is looking for you. Perhaps you should attend to her."

Draco muttered an apology to Katya and quickly left the library, leaving her alone with Severus.

"What are you doing here? I didn’t expect to see you again," said Katya bitterly, breaking the silence. Her tone was sharp with irritation.

"Mrs Malfoy has a particular talent for arranging unexpected meetings," replied Severus, his deep voice dripping with sarcasm. "I suppose you didn’t realize that your presence here is also part of her… strategy."

"Obviously not. I’m here to work. I had no idea you’d been invited as well," Katya retorted with a wry smile.

"Curious. I thought you’d been invited for lunchtime" the man murmured, emphasizing the words "lunchtime" with a hint of disdain. Katya arched a brow, sensing he was playing some sort of game, and Severus, feeling the pressure, averted his gaze to the grand library. "Narcissa is usually more… discreet. She must be quite intrigued." He crossed his arms, studying her closely.

"Intrigued?"

Severus let out a dry scoff.

"I believe she may have seen us a few weeks ago in London," he admitted, avoiding her gaze. "She likely thinks that Lucius’s and her desperate attempts to pair me off with someone have finally borne fruit."

Katya gave a quiet snort of laughter, and he looked directly at her, no longer holding back. She was wearing a light blue linen dress, modestly cut but subtly fitted around her hips and chest. The blue hue was striking on her, almost mesmerising. Severus tried not to look for too long; it would only prove counterproductive.

Yet, for the briefest of moments, he couldn’t help but picture what it would be like to grab her by the hair and revisit the position they had so thoroughly enjoyed in Vienna nearly a year ago—except this time, atop the desk of a library.

Stop it. Control yourself, he ordered himself sternly.

The silence that followed was tense. Both knew there were many unsaid words between them, yet neither was willing to take the first step. On one hand, Severus desired her fervently but also wanted to yell at her to leave him alone, to stop haunting his nights with her infernal presence in his dreams. Yet, another part of him didn’t want her gone. Those dreams were proof they had once been together, and at present, he’d rather dream of her than anything else.

As for Katya, she wanted to plead with him to leave her alone, to stop distracting her, to stop abruptly crossing her path while she was in the country. She had a mission and couldn’t afford to fail.

Finally, Severus averted his gaze to the laptop.

“So, you’re corrupting young Malfoy with Muggle contraptions?” he asked sarcastically.

“No. I was merely answering his questions. He’s a curious boy,” Katya replied, holding his gaze. “Is he one of your students?”

“Yes.” Severus kept his eyes fixed on her, though her grey eyes no longer looked at him with seduction—they were watchful, alert. “In fact, I’m also his godfather.”

Katya let out a laugh, breaking the staring contest between them.

“Poor boy,” she said sarcastically, hastily packing her belongings.

Katya’s comment brought a faint smile to Severus’s face. He found it amusing that she could jest about him—it reminded him of the Katya he once knew. But then he realised that his Katya no longer existed. She might have been his once, but he hadn’t allowed it.

A sudden urgency gripped Severus—he wanted to warn her again about the Malfoy family, to ask her to stop torturing him in his dreams, or simply to beg for a chance to discuss what lay between them. To tell her he couldn’t stop thinking about her. But before he could utter a word, a house-elf appeared beside him with a small bow.

“Masters! Mistress Malfoy and young Master Draco are expecting you in the Greenhouse for lunch,” the elf announced in a hurried voice.

Katya raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised, while Severus looked at her with resignation. It seemed they had no choice. Narcissa was testing them both. He felt deeply uncomfortable with the notion that Mrs Malfoy could further disrupt the fragile connection between them, but they were already here.

“Let’s not keep Narcissa waiting,” said Severus curtly, beginning to walk towards the Greenhouse.

As they walked through the halls of Malfoy Manor, Katya glanced at Severus from the corner of her eye, her expression contemplative.

“I’m curious,” she said. “Have you explained the nature of our relationship to them?” She spoke in a low but clear voice.

“Relationship?” Severus raised an eyebrow, and Katya scoffed.

“You know exactly what I mean, Severus. Have you told your friends… what happened between us?”

“I owe them no explanation,” he responded quietly as they followed the elf. In a voice even lower, meant only for her ears, he added, “They are not my friends. At least, not in the way you and I once were. Don’t trust them.”

Severus glanced briefly at her, a slight tension visible on his face. Katya frowned, startled by his response. If they weren’t his friends, then why was he allowing this situation? She was losing patience, but something in his demeanour suggested he couldn’t share the full truth—just as always.

“What do you mean by that?” she asked, stopping for a moment. Severus sighed, stopping as well to meet her gaze. He knew his earlier response had been vague.

“You can’t mention anything about the last Assembly. You cannot mention my early departure,” Severus said, almost pleadingly.

Katya stared at him, uneasy with the urgency in his tone. Did this mean she would have to lie for him? What was he hiding from the Malfoys?

She knew he didn’t want to discuss their friendship or what had happened between them before he disappeared without a trace last year. But explicitly asking her to keep things hidden implied something more. It was clear he didn’t trust the Malfoys, so why was he pretending to be one of them? Katya couldn’t help but think back to their meeting in Vienna, where they had been intimate, where she believed their relationship might bloom—only for him to abandon her and break her heart.

“I understand,” Katya finally replied. “But if it comes to it and I have to lie for you, I’d like to know why. You owe me that much.”

Severus scowled at her.

“No, you don’t need to know,” he said coldly. “Just stay out of trouble, please.”

Katya frowned, unsatisfied with his answer.

“I don’t understand. Are we in danger?”

He thought for a moment before shaking his head.

“No. We just need to be careful, Kat.” She felt a flicker of comfort at hearing him use her old nickname. She decided not to push him further—for now. There would be time to talk later, assuming they ever did. “And close your mind. She knows Legilimency as well.”

Katya nodded, now even more on edge.

“You know this is all very strange, don’t you?” Katya pressed. “You’ll have to tell me something.”

Severus let out a resigned scoff.

“I know. And I will… eventually.”

When they arrived at the Greenhouse, Narcissa greeted them with a self-satisfied smile, clearly pleased with herself for orchestrating their paths to cross once more. She observed them curiously, eager to know everything about them: how they met, when they met, what had transpired between them, and what sort of relationship they now shared.

Since the gala, Narcissa had found it both highly amusing and entertaining to see the usually composed and controlled Severus Snape visibly shaken by the presence of the young foreigner. It was strange for her to witness how the professor, so accustomed to his stoic demeanour, momentarily lost that air of poise that had always defined him.

Upon learning that they had known each other previously, both Lucius and Narcissa couldn't help but feel intrigued. The idea of uncovering the details of this concealed connection between Severus and Katya seemed fascinating, almost like a pastime that provided a refreshing contrast to the graver concerns always looming over the Malfoys’ lives—especially those related to the Dark Lord and his impending return. The mere prospect of having something else to talk about, something other than the dark future that awaited them, was a welcome distraction.

For Lucius, the opportunity to unravel this "juicy gossip" had turned into a sort of game, a diversion that amused and entertained him amidst his constant quest for control over the situations surrounding him. Meanwhile, Narcissa continued to observe keenly, convinced there was more to this connection than what was immediately apparent. For now, however, the Malfoys would be content with gleaning whatever insights they could.

"Severus, Katya, how delightful that you've found each other!" Narcissa exclaimed with a courteous smile, gesturing elegantly for them to sit. They took their respective seats, the chairs arranged in such a way that they were placed next to each other. Draco, seated across the table, could barely hide the curiosity with which he watched them, as though anticipating something of interest to unfold between them.

"I had completely forgotten that we’d arranged for some Advanced Potions tutoring for Draco, Severus" Narcissa said with a feigned tone of apology. "I do hope you’ll forgive me and find the presence of Miss Borislova agreeable."

"I’m sure your schedule must be quite demanding" Severus replied in his characteristic tone, laden with irony, eliciting a light-hearted laugh from Narcissa.

"Oh, come now, Severus. You’re on holiday; indulge me by enjoying a family lunch and taking the opportunity to meet someone new," she responded breezily.

Katya, remaining silent, watched as the house-elf approached once again, offering her another glass of sherry. She smiled at the elf with genuine gratitude, and with practised skill, he deftly placed a series of drinks on the table: a traditional English tea for Severus, another glass of claret for Narcissa, and a glass of Coca-Cola for Draco. The scene carried an air of peculiar informality that Katya found oddly fascinating.

"Although... now that I think about it... you two already know each other, don’t you?" Narcissa remarked, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes as she turned her attention to Severus, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "How did that come about, Miss Borislova? Has Severus been a gentleman?"

Katya picked up her glass and took a small sip, carefully maintaining her composure. Internally, the question struck her as so absurd that she almost laughed out loud. Instead, she opted for a measured response.

"Professor Snape and I have met at the European Potioneers' Assemblies" she replied in a neutral tone, meeting Narcissa’s gaze, which clearly sought more details. Katya paused briefly before continuing. "We’ve worked together for several consecutive years. It’s a highly prestigious organisation." Her eyes drifted momentarily to the glass in her hand, and she took another sip, her demeanour growing slightly tenser. "His work is admirable," she added curtly, avoiding eye contact with Severus.

"Ah, was it all purely professional?" Narcissa insisted, leaning slightly towards them, a mischievous glint in her eyes that clearly expressed her disappointment at the lack of drama.

"Obviously," Severus replied, his tone sharp, making it clear that there was nothing more to discuss. At that moment, the house-elf appeared with the plates of food, interrupting the uncomfortable conversation. Snape, grateful for the distraction, picked up his cutlery and began to eat with the same coldness with which he always handled such situations.

Katya, for her part, simply followed the conversation with an impassive expression, although internally she couldn’t decide whether what had just occurred was irritating or simply hilarious. Draco, on the other hand, didn’t quite understand why his mother was so interested in the family accountant and his godfather, but he didn’t miss the opportunity to ask a question that had apparently been on his mind.

"So, is it true what they say about the Borislov family?" he asked, looking at Katya. Katya feared which of the many rumours about her family he was about to ask. "They say they’re dragon hunters, that they use them to create curses. Is that true?"

Katya smiled faintly, relieved that it was that topic.

"Not exactly" she said calmly. "My family doesn’t hunt dragons. We breed them. We have four wild dragons in Rostov."

Narcissa, Severus, and Draco’s expressions changed instantly. Narcissa raised her eyebrows in astonishment, while Draco appeared almost unable to process the information.

"Four dragons?" Severus murmured, unable to hide his astonishment. This was something Katya had never mentioned before.

Katya nodded, noticing how disbelief surrounded them.

"Yes, Eastern dragons, with white horns." she explained. "They’re not easy to handle, in fact, they’ve never been ridden. But my family has learned how to care for them and keep them under control. They feed on the animals of the forest."

Draco, astonished, looked at Katya with admiration.

"That... that’s incredible" he commented. "Can we visit Russia someday, mum?"

Narcissa, meanwhile, was thoughtful, her eyes glowing with renewed interest.

"We’ll see" she murmured. "To be honest, I didn’t know the Borislovs had such creatures." She said this in her soft tone, but with palpable curiosity. "You attended Koldovstoretz Magic School, right?"

"Yes, for seven years" Katya replied. "I specialised in Potions, which allowed me to become a Master Potioner, a year later."

"Ah, just like Severus," Narcissa remarked casually. "I see you have a lot in common. You must have been excellent laboratory partners." She took another sip of her drink.

Severus and Katya both nodded.

"Is it true you play Quidditch with trees?" Draco asked, now intrigued again.

"Yes, it's not a sport I’m particularly fond of, but yes, uprooted trees are used instead of brooms, unlike in the West."

"Unbelievable!" the boy exclaimed. "It would be fascinating to try it at Hogwarts."

Katya burst out laughing.

"Oh, no. Many students die every year; it’s a rather dangerous sport" she replied.

After several hours of interviews, sarcastic comments from Severus, and several glasses of Sherry consumed by Katya, Narcissa finally allowed them to leave. The lady of the house, with her usual elegance, gave them a smile as she bade them farewell.

"I hope to see you both at the Quidditch World Cup" Narcissa remarked casually, almost as if talking about something trivial. "Lucius can get you tickets. We’ll be in the front rows, next to the Prime Minister."

Katya nodded, although the idea of attending the championship was the last thing on her mind. The last thing she wanted was to run into her dear brothers at such a public event. The very thought gave her a bad feeling, and she preferred not to comment on it.

Narcissa, with a look that reflected her usual intuition, seemed to anticipate the slight inconvenience. She moved towards the door, already ready to say her goodbyes, and turned to speak to Severus again.

"Severus, would you be so kind as to Apparate Miss Borislova to her neighbourhood? She still doesn’t have permission to Apparate in the country" she said as she took a final sip of her drink.

Both Severus and Katya exchanged a brief look, sharing an unmistakable discomfort. A tension that seemed to grow with every word. At the same time, they both opened their mouths to respond, but did so simultaneously, which only added to the awkwardness.

"It’s not necessary, I can borrow the phone and call a..." Katya started to say, but Severus interrupted her.

"I’m not sure that’s the most appropriate..." he said, almost defensively.

Narcissa watched in silence, but with her usual perceptive gaze. Something was happening between them, a tension that could not be ignored. There was more to their interaction, something she didn’t fully understand, but knew could be interesting. Something had occurred, and she was determined to find out what.

"Oh, we don’t have a phone" Mrs. Malfoy lied, a satisfied smile forming on her lips.

Severus and Katya exchanged another look, now even more uncomfortable. Katya let out a sigh, defeated, and looked at Severus, expectantly.

"Fine, well..." Severus lowered his gaze, as if there was no other option. It was evident that he didn’t like the idea of doing something so... personal; he didn’t want to invade Katya’s space, not after Vienna. "In that case, I suppose we have no choice, Miss Borislova."

His voice was lower than usual, as though part of him wished to avoid this interaction. Katya, though still hesitant, understood the message. They looked at each other, and in an act that seemed more like a formality than a gesture of closeness, Severus extended his hand to her. Katya took it, her heart racing.

"Perfect, then. Have a good afternoon!" Narcissa waved them off with her usual smile, leaving behind a sense of intrigue, as if there was something unspoken between them. The door closed softly behind her, leaving the couple in the hallway.

Severus and Katya exchanged one last look, both uncomfortable with the situation. The atmosphere between them was thick, heavy with memories. It was Severus who broke the silence with a practical question, but one laced with a hint of tension.

"Where to?" he asked, without looking up from her figure.

Katya turned towards him, trying to stay calm. She had already spoken about her plans earlier, but now she wasn’t sure if her answer would be sufficient for him.

"You can take me to Wiltshire Station and..." she began, but Severus interrupted before she could finish.

"Katya, just tell me where you live, and I’ll drop you off there. I... I don’t mind." He added, his tone firmer, though the irritation in his voice remained. There was something in the way he offered to take her that suggested he wanted to finish the situation quickly.

Katya looked at him for a moment before replying, nodding slowly.

"Mount Row and Charles Place, Mayfair" she said at last.

Severus nodded, and within seconds, both disappeared with a snap of air. Instantly, they materialized in the interior of Grovenor Square park, where the crowd of Muggles had yet to notice them. Katya walked ahead, saying nothing, and Severus followed at a prudent distance. He could see that the neighbourhood was extremely exclusive; her home was in a luxurious location, much like her flat in Moscow.

Upon reaching the building's door, Katya stopped and turned towards him. Her face, despite the day's awkward moments, brightened with a warm smile.

"Thank you" she said, her genuine gratitude evident in her voice, though her expression still carried a sense of distance.

Severus nodded his head, a slight movement that made it clear he understood. However, he couldn't help but comment, his tone low and slightly sarcastic:

"No need. I hope today wasn’t too... terrible."

Katya smiled faintly, as if the joke lightened the situation.

"Oh, I’ve had worse days," she replied, and Severus couldn’t help but nod, as though understanding what wasn’t being said.

"Thank you, for today," Severus added, his tone more serious, though no less grateful. Despite everything, there was something in Katya’s attitude that he valued. He knew that, even though Narcissa hadn’t asked anything about the Assemblies, Katya would have lied for him if necessary, and that was something he appreciated more than he cared to admit.

Suddenly, he noticed Katya was staring at him intently, discreetly inspecting his body, her eyes reflecting curiosity, but also a hint of amusement, as if...

Was she going to ask him if he wanted to come up to her flat? Severus could only fantasize about the idea of feeling her again, and he let out a scoff.

"Well, I’m pretty sure we’ll see each other again. Looks like the wizarding community in this country is quite small."

Severus laughed, as if something so simple had made him smile for the first time in a long while. He remembered that the last time he had laughed like that was exactly a year ago, with the same person standing before him.

"Indeed, it is. Quite small" he confirmed, with a glint of irony in his eyes.

Katya let out a soft sigh. She would have liked to say that playing at flirting came easy to her, but it didn’t. Sadly, she still cared about Severus and couldn’t ignore the fact that they were standing at the door of a building, a flat, alone, with a clear tension between them. She let out a small laugh, relieved by the change in the tone of their conversation, as if they could finally be the same as before.

"Kat..." he said, his eyes locking onto hers.

"What?" Katya felt him hold his breath.

"I really am sorry, I hope you know that."

"I know, but everything is different now" she explained, and with a final gesture of farewell, she turned towards the door. "See you."

Severus nodded and felt something inside him crack. Damn, this witch had truly cursed him.

"See you" he replied, his voice now slightly softer, as if the heavy air between them had started to clear, even if only for a moment.

Katya entered the building, and the door closed behind her, leaving Severus alone at the threshold of that awkward moment, knowing that, somehow, this encounter wouldn’t be the last, but there would be no turning back. Katya had changed, and so had he. He couldn’t condemn her to danger, not when Voldemort might return.

But, with one last look at the building, he imagined what might have happened if, a year ago, he had ignored Dumbledore and pursued a relationship with Katya. He probably wouldn’t have been as unhappy as he had been this past year. He liked to think she wouldn’t be the cold woman she was now with him, but sweet and seductive as she had been in the beginning, and neither of them would be miserable, doing things neither of them wanted, like teaching, in his case, or working for her father, in Katya’s. But Severus had to be logical, that life made no sense if Voldemort’s threat still loomed.