outfit

Lou was on her way definitely not to spend money at one of half a dozen stores on Hogsmeade’s highroad. February was a quarrelsome lover— sweet and full of candied hearts most people just couldn’t quit, but cold with wet feet, too. Emmylou didn’t give much thought to Valentine’s Day— she and Edmund had celebrated themselves (in a broom closet) last year, because who needed a card to do that? But if cards weren’t some affirmation that she was making good choices in life, surely the sign in a window that had made her come to an abrupt stop meant something.

Help wanted.

She looked up at the other sign hanging over head, the one that told her what she needed to hear before she did some quick thinking. Puddifoot’s. A teashop. A teashop. The cozy, pink, perfumed place horrors and deliciousness that had plagued a whole generation (or five) of teenage boys. But she’d heard it had come under new management— a younger, hipper Puddifoot. And it was a teashop.

Never in all her tea-leaf-reading, star-charting years (which had been a handful each, before she’d turned 18) had Lou expected she would be (inquiring about) applying for a second job making coffee (and tea) while she was still technically working the first job. She didn’t want to accuse her old friend The Sorting Hat of being a giant liar— Gryffindor had suited her well, had helped make her into what she was— but, well, she apparently had a bit of Hufflepuff in her. Who knew? Maybe she’d ask Fauna if she had the symptoms of an undercover Hufflepuff.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

But if she wanted to have an adult life, she needed more galleons in her bank account. And so it was with a confident purpose— or her usual easy, charming step— that Emmylou walked the few meters toward the teashop and tread inside. She looked around for signs of the new order, head poking around, eyes roaming upward. And then back down— but not too far, still upish-- where they spotted the woman who was obviously working there. “I heard this place is happening now,” she said by way of greeting, offering a Carter smile. Hopefully the greeting was a good start to a good interview-- and would at least earn her a job with a slightly better paycheck (oh, yeah, and her experiences might help), though the idea of eventually giving up the view from the hospital teashop was disappointing. Surely bearded healers could travel for their caffeine. Surely.

Running a tea shop with only a diviner on staff was difficult, to say the least. Business hadn’t really been busy enough to hire another employee, but February was a busy time for Puddifoot’s; with the day of love around the corner and all that jazz. The display cases were always in disarray, the dishes always piled high in the back, tables busted by the frazzled proprietor while she also tried desperately to keep the coffee fresh and the customers happy. Things were slipping, and though Dora always held a smile on her face, this was certainly not the view she’d envisioned when taking over the shop. The renovations were splendid; the new aura was fantastic, the new service sucked. How Auntie Puddie had handled it all those years, with only the tiny hands of Dora to help, the werewolf would never know.

So, though she knew it would cut into her own profit, she’d still decided to hang a ‘help wanted’ sign in the window. It had been up for three days, without any applicants or even a question about applying. It was disheartening, but Dora knew that working in a teashop wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea (no pun intended!) and she’d get a nibble soon enough. And when someone did nibble on the line that was a wonderful job offer, she’d yank the line in so fast, there’d be no way the other person wouldn’t fall in love with the charm the shop had to offer.

As the witch hummed happily under her breath, wiping down a display case (by hand), a bubbly witch came clambering into the shop, happy about everything in the world, or so it seemed to Dora. “Oh it is! Welcome!” Dora returned EmmyLou’s trademark smile with one of her own, a bright beaming one that split her face and transformed her features into something much happier and bubblier than a frumpy barista, which is what she felt inside.

It had been exactly one week since the last full moon, and Dora was finally starting to feel like herself again, but couldn’t help but feel a tad bit tired, even when working shorter shifts, so she stifled a yawn while directing EmmyLou to any seat she fancied. “Can I get ya anything?”

The friendly welcome was a good sign that she had picked the right sign. The woman immediately seemed like someone Lou could work for without wanting to quit after the first day. “Sure, why not?” It was a teashop, after all. A hot drink was a much easier compromise between Emmylou and her budget than a whirlwind shopping trip. “A latte would be great.”

She began to remove her coat, her eyes roaming the display case with friendly interest. She draped her coat over the back of a chair and took a seat, pulling out a small bag of coins. She was glad she hadn’t trekked all of the way to The Three Broomsticks (even if the sign had a lot to do with it).

“Are you holding interviews?” She gestured over her shoulder to the window where the sign hung, eyes catching the woman’s again. “I have experience in a teashop,” she elaborated. “I could even make that latte for you,” She joked, grinning again in a good-natured. “For me.” Technically. But that had to look impressive on a résumé: a customer who could turn into an employee who could turn into a customer. Emmylou thought on the bright side.