Today marked a day of firsts for Jack. It was his first time using his new Floo network, his first time setting foot into Hogsmeade, and, if he was lucky, it might even be his first time seeing Hogwarts, albeit from a distance. Maybe if it was one of those Hogsmeade weekends, he would get to see Samantha too. Again, from a distance. He wondered if she would recognize him since he had beefed up quite a bit since they were kids. Hell, what if he didn't recognize her? She was barely hitting puberty when they were separated and there was a chance he wouldn't recognize her in the crowd. Actually, what if she didn't come to Hogsmeade weekends at all?

Jack tried to shake off the feelings of doubt and dejection, reminding himself that not only was seeing Samantha not the reason he was there but that it wasn't like he could see her anyways. Their father had been very clear that they were not to talk ever again lest he put her in danger and putting his sister in danger of becoming something... like him... was something he would never want to do.

Actually, what he was here for involved that something he became. Since he was now a legally registered werewolf, he couldn't just go wherever he wanted during the full moon. Granted, this meant that he was usually somewhere where he was safe from accidentally stumbling on some campers and waking up in a blanket made of their skins, but it also meant that he had to spend the night in a drab and depressing cell offered at the ministry which left him feeling like a criminal, despite having never actually woken up dressed in anyones skin. So, he had been ecstatic when Bethan had suggested he try a friend of hers, Pandora Puddifoot's, little safehouse in Hogsmeade.

Though it was finally dawning on Jack that his mooning over Beth was getting him nowhere and that they would always just be friends, he couldn't help but feel pleased that she cared enough about him to help him out. He just hoped that this friend of hers was as wonderful as she made her out to be. It wasn't that he doubted her judgement of character, since she constantly proved her ability to discern the good from the bad, but so far he had yet to meet any other werewolves aside from his creator and that was not a happy memory. This would be yet another first for him.

Finding Puddifoots was not difficult. The smell of coffee and muffins drifted enticingly through the muck of other smells and evidently it wasn't a Hogsmeade weekend because there were no throngs of children about to muddle it up more. Since the full moon was in a couple of days, his nose was nearly at its peak condition and he could almost separate the different flavors of muffins wafting from the small cafe. If he were in a cartoon, he would have lifted off the ground and floated in euphoric joy towards the place.

Pausing outside the entrance, Jack took a moment to breathe in deeply and languish in the smell. He didn't know how, considering his mother never baked and he certainly didn't know how to, but it smelled like home. Exhaling with a peaceful smile, Jack finally worked up the nerve to enter. Locating the waitress, Jack gave her a nervous smile and held up a crumpled piece of paper, despite the fact that she probably couldn't see, let alone read, his chicken scratch. "Um... Ah'm lookin' fer a Pandora Pud'ifoot... This is 'er place, innit?"

Emmylou tucked a tray under her arm and floated away from a table near the window, where she'd just finished unloading tea and pastries. The pair of customers had been conversing loudly over their retail finds: a witch in green crushed velvet robes cooing over a charmed pocketwatch, while her wizard companion (swathed in sunshine yellow and a beard that rivaled Albus Dumbledore’s) nodded with an approving flourish. But their conversation had promptly turned to the brilliance of the flakey pastries and aromatic tea as soon as Lou had re-entered their line of vision. Now they were smacking lips and mmming, and the Gryffindor alum knew they had bagged another pair of faithful patrons. She smiled to herself. Even the most opinionated of visitors had high praise for Dora’s offerings. The younger Puddifoot had most certainly breathed new life into the shop while retaining the most delicious bits.

The door opened, announcing a newcomer with a sweep of cool March air. Lou looked up and locked eyes with a young man who looked to be about her age. She returned his smile, her own bright and toothy, and curbed her path to the bar with an easy drag of ankle boots. Her movements were full of Carter luck and confidence. “You’re in the right place,” she confirmed. If she was humored by the endearing nervousness, it wasn’t evident in her voice, which was encouraging. It was surprisingly easy to get lost in a little town like Hogsmeade— Lou had learned that with the influx of people who came with the tournament.

The young man looked to be about her age, but she didn’t recognize him. This week was full of strangers whom she’d either gone to Hogwarts and never spoken to, or… not gone to Hogwarts with, apparently, she decided as she evaluated this one. Maybe he was older than he looked.

Lou's eyes dashed down to his hand, unable to decipher exactly what the paper meant, but remained friendly as they trailed back up to his face. If Dora was expecting him, she probably knew what the paper meant. (Or would soon find out.) “She’s in the back, baking.” She tossed her head in the direction of the kitchen, from which the wonderful smells permeated. “I’ll grab her for you. One sec," she added, and adjusted the tray a bit before wandering over to the kitchen. She gave the door a quick rap of knuckles and poked her head in. "Dora, there's someone here to see you, when you have a moment."

She returned to the friendly face, deciding to prod him with questions while they waited. "Delivery?” She hazarded a (smart) guess. Maybe he was hiding a whole tower of boxes outside. "I'm Emmylou, by the way. If you ever need tea, I'm your woman." Besides Dora.

“You’re in the right place,”

Despite his lack of formal education and sometimes slow uptake, Jack normally knew what to do in most situations, the more dire the better. Put him in the middle of a boxing match with someone twice his size, he knew what to do. Put him in the middle of nowhere in the woods with nowt but a penknife, he knew what to do. But put him in the middle of a cozy cafe with a confident and pretty young woman, and he was completely and utterly lost. Like a fish out of water, he struggled to catch his breath and keep his eyes from bulging.

“She’s in the back, baking. I’ll grab her for you. One sec...."

He coughed, regaining a little of his composure "Ah... Yeah. Cheers..."

While she went off towards what he assumed was the kitchen (the delicious smells seemed to be originating from it, so it probably wasn't the bogs.), Jack looked around the place. It was nice. Much cleaner and warmer, both in temperature and atmosphere, than the Sword and Chant. Much better smelling too. If the safehouse was under a place like this, Jack could get used to it. But then, it could be a hole in the ground and still be more comfortable than the cells at the ministry.

She reappeared and Jack whipped back towards her, looking a bit like a sheepish puppy caught digging in the trash.

"Delivery? I'm Emmylou, by the way. If you ever need tea, I'm your woman."

Jack glanced behind himself, confused. Nothing delivery-like had materialized in the last couple of moments, had it? Brows creased, he looked back just as she introduced herself. "Ehm...Brilliant..." he intoned, weak and completely lost for words. They stood there for a moment before he realized he hadn't responded to her introduction. "Ah... Right... Ah'm Jack." He said with a smile and a proffered hand. "Nice t'meet ya, yeah?" His parents may have been rubbish but Charlie had at least taught him manners.

The wizard seemed caught off guard, softer somehow than his appearance and heavy accent might have suggested. This only managed to delight the Carter girl as she wandered away to grab Dora’s attention. He wasn’t the run of the mill customer, hurrying to grab tea or coffee on a short lunchbreak or before a shift, nor the regular fixture who walked in like Puddifoot’s was an extension of their own kitchen or living room. A fresh face to keep things interesting.

The stranger’s brand of curiosity seemed tinged with shy anticipation, while Lou’s was (more than) a bit less abashed. “So not a delivery,” she concluded, by the confusion on his face. Her smile widened, tugging a little to one side, the friendly version of a smirk. “Nice to meet you, too.” Her own hand (the one not pinning a tray to her side) shot out to take his, giving it a firm yet simultaneously bouncy shake, the handshake of someone none too formal.

“Dora’s long lost son, then?” She offered next, cheekily, when he gave a name. Pandora was far too young for that, and for all Lou knew, he was drinking from the fountain of youth and happened to be the other young woman's age. “Or… brother.” A better guess. She looked over her shoulder to the kitchen, again, and back to Jack. "Do you want something to drink while you wait?" She was sure Pandora would offer, and, after all, Emmylou was on the job.

This particular batch of lady fingers was behaving quite unladylike. The small pastries simply would not lie still, each one trying to run away like an inch worm, scrunching up in the middle before moving a couple centimeters from the tray. The pretty witch dealing with the unruly treats was almost ready to scream in frustration, and she surely wouldn’t be ordering ‘self-rising’ flour from that vendor any longer. It almost came as a relief, then, when her newest hire, Emmylou poked her head into the kitchen to inform her of a guest.

Dora didn’t actually remember setting up any meetings, but then again, she’d been so scatterbrained lately she could barely remember what day it was. Much like her visitor’s, Pandora’s senses were also heightened, but for whatever reason, most of the smells wafting toward her nose made her want to retch. She truly hoped she wasn’t coming down with something, there was simply too much work to be done before the full moon.

With flour smeared across her face and positively covering her apron, Dora threw her hands in the air in agitation and left the kitchen. She smiled warmly at the patrons she passed on her way to Emmylou, intent on asking where this mysterious visitor was. Then she noticed him. It was obvious that this must be the man – simply because he was the only thing in the shop that just didn’t fit. The man didn’t seem to be the ‘coffee in the middle of the day’ kind of guy, and that was by itself a huge red flag in a coffee shop.

Catching the tail end of their conversation, Dora butted in, offering her own hand for a shake. “Yes indeed, we have an amazing Tasmanian tea just in, the patrons seem to like it, a bit too bitter for my tastes, but to each their own, right?” She gripped the man’s hand with an unnecessary firmness, forgetting that her strength was on the rise with the full moon mere days away. “How can I help you today?” She asked kindly, giving the man a warm smile.

“Dora’s long lost son, then? Or… brother. Do you want something to drink while you wait?"

Maybe it was because of the distracting smells or the fact that the waitress was very pretty, but Jack found himself more tongue-tied than usual. Her first questions, regarding his relation to Pandora, were met with a blank stare and a blink. Thankfully, these questions seemed to be rhetorical because she immediately went straight on into the next one and asked him what he wanted to drink. Jack balked at this one as well. All he had ever had was the cheap, plain kind that he (sometimes) bought from Aldi's or at petrol stations, but the distinctly foreign smell of the small cafe suggested there was a world of teas he had never even heard of. He thought about letting her pick (since it was her job to know what the good ones were, right?) but before he could suggest it, a woman appeared from the back and interrupted them with a smile and a proffered hand.

“Yes indeed, we have an amazing Tasmanian tea just in, the patrons seem to like it, a bit too bitter for my tastes, but to each their own, right?”

Even Jack, who didn't catch on quickly in most social situations, knew that this had to be Dora. Most people would have drawn the conclusion based on the facts: She came from the place Emmylou had called her from, she was covered in flour, and she had the air of confidence and authority generally possessed by the owner of an establishment. Jack, however, drew his conclusion from her scent. There was a strong smell of werewolf coming off of her. So strong in fact that even the smell of pastries and tea couldn't cover it up.

Jack found this fact a little strange. Even this close to the full moon, she shouldn't smell so... well... potent. It was similar to the werewolf he had met at his first stay in the ministry dungeons, a woman who had the misfortune of being visited by both her 'times of the month' simultaneously, but Dora's was even stronger. If Jack (who wasn't a wordsmith by any definition of the word) had to describe it, it would be like she was a 'double werewolf'. 

“How can I help you today?”

The strength of her handshake, which might have broken the fingers of a normal man, shook Jack from his thoughts. He'd have to puzzle over her strange smell later. "Well... Ehm..." He paused and glanced around the room before pulling out the paper with the address on it. On the back was a suggestion on how to approach the subject with 'subtlty', which was apparently not his forte. Beth told him that Dora was registered but her status was relatively unknown and he'd better not doing anything dumb enough to endanger it. Holding up the card, he squinted at it and then said "It's abou' the room fer rent... in the cella'... at th'end o' the month..." His brows, which were already expressive as it were, wiggled quite dramatically to emphasis the duplicity of the phrase. Then he added, hopefully, "Beth sent me."

Well, they had a talkative one on their hands. Hints of amusement colored Emmylou’s smile as she jabbered on, showering him with questions and poking around nosily— in a very friendly and professional coffee server way! (Maybe the are-you-related-to-Dora question wasn’t standard, but she thought it was harmless enough; Dora treated her as well as many family members did… which was not to say that her family wasn’t awesome, the insufferable oddity of Leonora aside.)

If there was some sort of silent conversation going on beneath the greeting, Lou didn’t notice. Sure, she was curious, but she assumed the young man was shy and that Dora knew why he was here. Dora being a landlady on top of a shop owner? Did she ever stop working?

“I’ll go see if you like some of that Tasmanian,” she offered, giving the tray under her arm a little shake to remind them that she knew she had a job to do. “Maybe sugar will help. Unless you like it bitter like some of our customers.” She grinned. Different strokes. Dora was a sweet woman with a penchant for sweets, so Lou understood why she wasn’t crazy about their newest and very popular import… but bitter things could pair well with sweet desserts, too. At any rate, Jack hadn’t decided on a tea, so Lou would take it upon herself to steep a cup of Dora’s recommendation. She wandered back to the bar, and toward the tin of Tasmanian leaves.[1]

1.	Feel free to assume Lou can’t hear them now, and she is off preparing tea so they can converse in private. You can skip her and I’ll have her re-enter whenever is convenient! Just let me know.

Dora’s smile never wavered nor faltered as Emmylou and Jack spoke, though by the end of Jack’s garbled code speak, it somehow seemed to resemble a grimace. When Lou left to make the tea, an almost visible tension left Dora’s shoulders. She wasn’t ashamed or secretive about her condition – it wasn’t as if it was her fault either way. She was registered and supported werewolf advocacy every chance she got, but that didn’t mean she wanted her personal information bandied about her shop.

For a moment, Dora contemplated sending the guy in front of her away, telling him that she had no clue what he was speaking about and that perhaps he should check with the Ministry on such matters… but Pandora Puddifoot would never turn down someone in need, especially if sent by Bethan Ellis. Beth was one of Dora’s very good friends, and if Jack was good enough for her, he would certainly be good enough for Dora.

“How’s about we find a seat while we chat, yeah?” She said, strolling to an empty table toward the back of the shop. “The room in question is quite bare right now, to be completely honest with you. Only two are fully functional, one for me and I suppose one for you. You’re not a total nutter, are you?” She asked, the smile leaving her face only momentarily.

She was happy to help, but without any male support around the shop, it was difficult to keep up with things. Werewolf support safe havens were pretty far down the list of things to do, and though Dora had space for about seven changing stations, she simply hadn’t found the time to restore more than two. That, and Dora’s dreadful wand usage made for a rather sloppy basement.