Godric's Hollow, 11:oo am

"Maybe," she said, speaking each word like a toddler taking steps in the snow. Only, Molly was wading through snow, a very decent amount of it, indeed, and she was pointing in every which direction, and eying a lengthy list, too. It was sort of like juggling. Acrobatics for the (second) assistant.

"Maybe we could host it there," she said, finally forming an entire sentence in one go, finally remembering to come back down to earth. She looked up from her list of requirements and smiled kindly, slightly apologetically at the woman beside her. The poor dear, a desperate real estate agent during a lull in the market, had agreed to meet an over-enthusiastic Molly to discuss profit-turning opportunities. The agent was moonlighting as some sort of events organizer... or she was now that she'd realized Molly wasn't going to buy a pricey slice of commercial property pie.

"I'll have to check with my boss," she explained. "Er, my boss' boss. She-- it's a long story." She rolled her eyes at her own flustering as the wind whipped her hair into a frenzy. Her hair was never so lively on its own. Only in winter did it look glamorous. And a complete shambles. Shambolic chic? "This place is a bit quainter than London, isn't it?" She laughed.

Really, it reminded Molly of home. If home and London had a baby, Godric's Hollow would be it. It was the best of both world's: close-knit, cozy little buildings in crooked, communal clusters, not unlike Diagon Alley's ancient but urban marketplace... with a gingerbread edge, and sprawled in the middle of absolutely nowhere. Molly liked it better than Hogsmeade, too. Here, people seemed to be able to raise wholesome families without dying of boredom. Or cirrhosis of the liver. And that adorable cottage two left-hand turns back was for sale...

Job, Molly! You're working!

The slightly crestfallen agent did her best to mask an offense. Her pursed lips became a smooth smirk, that blue ribbon dog show smile required to graduate to Real Estate License Holder. Molly could never smile so... fake. She sort of envied the woman. In the kindest way possible.

"It does have a community charm that Diagon Alley lacks," the agent glossed over. Clearly the woman had never been to Diagon Alley. Molly just grinned in pretend agreement, smiling sympathetically on the inside. "And I agree," the woman carried on. "Our historical Hollow House would be the perfect place to hold a book signing and gala. It will give your employer's latest tour a certain edge. A new demographic."

N e w  d e m o g r a p h i c. Molly scribbled furiously across her notes.

"The second floor used to be a bookstore, you know. The Witching Hour. A very big fan of Bathilda Bagshots moved into town. The place took an unfortunate hit during the war-- well, you can imagine, with all of that Dumbledore Drama. But it's such a charming place. Regal, but still very... Godric's Hollow."

Amazing. She'd used the name of the town as a descriptor. Like shabby-chic or Bohemian-hobo. Perhaps Molly should tell Dolly about this woman. Maybe the unconventional novelist could write her into the books as some sort of villain. A red herring at least.

Molly's head nodded as her overzealous eyes latched themselves onto the drawn-in eyebrows of Miss Real Estate Leaser Extraordinaire.

And then she remembered her list.

"I don't suppose you also book hotel accommodations?"