“That was sarcasm, you’ve lost your touch.” She responded softly.

Then she sighed, giving a small shake of her head as she caught sight of a photograph of the two of them as teenagers. “You say that like there’s a simple solution. I don’t have anyone else to run the pub or look after my dad.”

Between the pub and her dad’s illness, she doesn’t have a lot of time for herself or for sleep.

Carefully stepping inside, she’s silently looking around. “Nice place.”

As long as he doesn’t mind her pale, exhausted appearance and bloodshot eyes. She’s got a lot on her plate.

Making her way up the porch, she knocked firmly on the oak front door and waited patiently.

She’s left the pub shut for today, and it’s the live in healer’s day with her father, to give her a break.

And she’s reluctantly visiting his flat. @horcruxhunter.bsky.social

Service with a smile, that’s her father’s motto. No matter who comes in.

No. Fights.

This is still her father’s business and she won’t see it run into the ground.

And don’t get in any fights.

Hm.

Mind the pub, she’s got taps to refill.

He’ll be waiting all day.

She didn’t say that, she’s just busy.

She’s got inventory to do, but if he insists.

He said it, not her.

What did he expect? He visits once for the first time in years then disappears again.

Narrowing her eyes as she poured a beer for the customer next to him.

Hmph.

❝You booked the night train for a reason, so you could sit there in this hurt.❞

𝓂𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 #𝒶𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇𝑔𝓁𝑜𝓌.

She still hasn’t managed to process last night . .

“I would have gladly died, if it meant I got to stay with you.” She responded harshly, barely concealing the pain in her voice.

“Instead I was left with a broken heart, endless loneliness and a father who no longer remembers me.”

“A chance to know you were leaving would have been nice.” She muttered, already fighting back angry tears.

“Fourteen years I’ve been left to grieve, no answers, no body. Just endless questions and heartache.”

She muttered, angrily slamming the order forms down on a crate of butterbeer. “I might as well have died that day, cause I certainly haven’t been living…”

Finishing filling out the first order form, she was silent as she stopped by the crates of butterbeer.

Tightening her grip on the forms the second her hands began to tremble. “Fourteen years . .” That was all she could manage to say.

Giving herself time to process him being back, she started counting the supplies of all the popular drinks and picked up the order forms to fill them out so she could have more stock ordered for next week.

But she was also creating tasks for herself because she was afraid to go back up there.

Setting a half filled glass down in front of him, her brows began to furrow as she tucked the rag into her apron.

Checking that he was the only customer, she disappeared into the cellar to check on how much stock she had left.