It was one of those days: the sun was amazing (in spurts, between rain), but not too blistering. People were only half-working, finding every excuse possible to be outside— which suited Emmylou well, since her break was coming up. In the interim, she had had plenty of fun serving coffee too more-cheerful-than-usual patrons (it was amazing, what the weather could do), and catching glimpses of things going on… elsewhere. It seemed like everyone’s windows were thrown open today… or at least their drapes weren’t closed. Without fog or gray skies or rain to get in the way (for much of the day), people seemed to forget just how visible the insides of their homes were. Even the light drizzle, when it started, didn't do much to mask everyone's business.

Which suited the curious Gryffindor alum just fine.

Already, for example, she had made passing comments to coworkers about the ancient cat-hoarding witch down the road and her apparent penchant for tea parties with said felines. She hadn’t been malicious about it, had simply found it very entertaining. Then there had been the overworked shopkeeper looking euphoric as he hung almost half-way out his window, his wand sending bubbles down to the street below as his wife tried to shoo him back to work.

But both of those scenes, while they demonstrated the endearing atmosphere of Hogsmeade at large, paled to…

That one.

As he stepped into the shop, Lou almost sloshed the coffee she was pouring. She hadn’t meant to spend so long watching, earlier, had planned to avert her eyes (really), but he’d just… given a show. She hadn’t known stomachs could be quite so defined, had assumed the muggles worked their magic in magazines. And now here he was, more clothed, but equally attention-grabbing. Lucky for Lou, she had amateur quidditch-playing balance and Carter as her surname. She caught the coffee just in time, peeled her eyes away regrettably, and redoubled her smile in the direction of the witch who had just paid for the hot beverage.

She wasn’t sorry to see the woman go, though.

Nor had she ever been more glad that her break was a whole two minutes away.

“What can I help you with?” She asked in an enthusiastic voice as she pinned her smile on the man with glorious hat hair. She waited for him to place the order, and decided she now had a perfectly reasonable excuse to stare. No one could sack her for looking a customer in the eye… chest… trouser’s line… back up to the hair. Region! She was being thorough.

“Good choice. American?” She asked, conversationally, as she went about his classic order of simple black coffee with sugar. She didn’t mind overdoing it, either, elaborate orders, but why mess with something that wasn’t broken? It seemed to suit him, the stranger. She was much more smooth in pouring this drink.

“That’ll be three sickles, ten knuts, Abs,” she said, before she even pressed a few buttons on the bright, magical register. She paused for a half second and blinked in realization. “‘Bsolutely—” She elaborated, covered up quickly, mouth making a kind of buzzing sound as she drew out the word and the smiled brightly. Emmylou wasn’t the bashful sort. She was the wing-it and wish for luck sort. “Our coffee is absolutely delicious.” Sales pitch of the century. She smiled brightly. “I’ll give you a full refund if you don’t agree. Just don’t tell my boss.” Who was lovely, anyway, and probably wouldn’t mind.

Her co-worker was nudging her even as she explained herself. She looked over suddenly. Break time. “Ah, right, cheers.” She shot another glance to the American before shuffling out of the other barista’s way and beginning to un-do her apron, looking over once or twice.

It was a good day to work in Hogsmeade.

On her way out the door, with her own coffee in hand, she certainly found excuses to slow down and… glance around. At the scenery. What? It was her break: she could enjoy it.

The bench outside was warm, but not insufferable, the breeze perfect. Lou pulled on her sunglasses and looked over at the door as the bell chimed again. She raised her drink in a goodbye hello please sit gesture at Abs. She was just being a good, unnecessary, sitting-on-her-bum tour guide/welcome committee for their new American patron whose name she didn’t know. “How did you end up here?” An amused grin was plastered on her face. Most of the Americans she’d encountered were in London, visiting, but then there were a whole host for the tournament. “You’re not a professor, are you?” Merlin help the children.

Outfit

It had been a late night. The event planners had been arguing with the Ministry, something about permits and location being too close to Hogwarts. It was his fault for having offered his free time to help with the W-BRCA. Some of them were welcoming to him and his knowledge while others brushed him off as cocky.

In the end he sat back and listened to them all bicker. Ben wanted to tip his hat down and nap. No, what he had really wanted to do was either ride or go home. After all the planning was done for the day, without getting a whole lot done, he’d gone to the pub and had a good time.

Which equated to a later morning than usual. His company had tried to encourage him awake long before he was ready, and he had obliged. Then it was time to send her on her way and get ready for his day. He’d stood at the window and stared out at the streets below his little bed and breakfast, fingers moving through his messy hair before he considered his options for the day. He didn’t technically have to show up for the planning until late afternoon, and he wasn’t going to go earlier than he needed to.

After a hot shower and hearty breakfast, he’d pulled out fresh clothes from his duffle, slipping his jeans on that were left hung over the chair and buckling his belt in place. His hands patted over his pockets, making sure he had his wallet and trusty can. Boots were pulled on with a grunt of satisfaction; there was something solid about a worn-in pair of boots. Lastly he grabbed his outer jacket and hat, leaving the bed and breakfast for a few hours.

With his hat in place, he walked around Hogsmeade; even the little rain didn’t bother him, trickling off the brim. They had some interesting shops; he found the culture differences from places he’d been to where he’d grown up fascinating. Ben was polite as he wandered down the road, inclining his head and tipping his hat at some of the locals. Breakfast would sit with him until dinner, but his lack of sleep... that would need remedied.

That was when he spotted the cafe up ahead. What luck! When he stepped inside, he took his hat off, fingers raking through messy, slicked hat hair. His free hand unzipped the jacket before he fumbled with the brim of his hat, making sure it wasn’t going to drop a bucket of water in the establishment he’d entered.

He was so busy making sure he wasn’t bringing in a mess that he missed the barista.

He put his order in, “Black coffee, largest you have, with a little sugar please. Thank you.” Ben assessed the barista, and then the other, giving the first a friendlier smile. “What told you that? My accent or my All-American-Boy outfit?” Maybe with his cup of coffee, he could have a nice, long walk around the outside of the small town before he went back to the meeting place with the W-BRCA. Eyes narrowed just slightly at the slip of her tongue, and her repeated words, chuckling as he handed over change from his front jean pocket. He left her with four sickles, not accepting change as he stepped to the side.

“That sounds like you really trust your brand.” His hand holding his hat came up, pointing it playfully at her as he winked. “I’ll hold you to it.” Ben smirked and rotated his hat around slowly. “Cheers.” What a British thing to say. It never grew dull, living in a different place. Even if sometimes he had to really concentrate on what they were saying to get it.

Ben took the coffee with a tip of his head. “Thank you, ma’am.” It was getting a little warm in the shop, and so he took a warning sip of the hot (and delicious) coffee before heading out the front door.

He definitely had eyes, and they certainly found her gesture. His hat was slipped back on with one hand before he took another sip, bracing his tongue for the scalding liquid. Ben stepped up closer but didn’t sit down, shifting his weight onto his back leg before resting his free hand against his belt, thumb slipping in for somewhere to rest. “In Hogsmeade? I took the train.” He laughed and grinned, showing teeth as he shook his head. “No ma’am. I’m here to try and set up a rodeo event.”

His fingers pushed the brim of his hat back just a little. “Has anyone ever told you how alarmingly beautiful your blue eyes are?” Even if she had them hidden behind sunglasses now, he had eyes in the store. He reached out with his free hand. "Where are my manners... I'm Ben."

“Accent,” she affirmed, smiling a little more softly. “But that is quite the American outfit.” Her tone assured him she appreciated it. And Emmylou did certainly appreciate it, from the comfortable, complimenting palette, to the belt buckle, to those jeans. She resisted the urge to lean over the counter and look down. (That was what glances over her shoulder on break were for.)

If he noticed her slip up— and she was pretty sure he had— at least he didn’t say anything. She took the extra change as a sign of a peace. Or encouragement.

Oops.

“That’s me, a Puddifoot’s loyalist for life.” She hoped Dora was listening, and saw how much the new customer seemed to appreciate the service. What with a tip and all. Maybe Emmylou would get a raise. Now that Dora didn’t pay her very well for the work she did. Lou knew how lucky she was. And she could afford to pay her rent so take that, Aunt Miranda.

But Merlin was this one distracting. Maybe Dora didn’t need to see everything. That hat… she wanted to know what it looked like on. She stopped herself from saying I hope you do, and simply enjoyed the wink. Plus the very endearing cheers in that accent.

While she hardly paid attention to the Britishisms of everyday life being so… well, British… it was funny to hear an American say certain words. His own manner of speech, the drawl of certain words, the easy politeness, made his thanks stick out in a good way. Lou had changed her mind: she really wanted that break now.

Once she was basking in it (or, well, new, distracting things), she got a full view. “Nice boots,” she ventured, eyes moving up under the protection of shades. “And hat.” Her grin widened as he moved closer to her. Wizards were quirky with their fashion sense— many loved hats of all shapes and sizes— but she didn’t see hats like that around here. It suited him as well as his coffee order. “I don’t know whether there’s ever been a rodeo here… or I haven’t seen one.” She shifted a little, eyes managing to skirt the trap of his thumbs on his belt and stay on his face. “So you’re a cowboy who rides trains, then?” She asked, trying on that word, cowboy, for size.

Her smile might have been big, but it certainly stretched to its limits at his compliment. If some members of the family were a little on the strict side, Emmylou, like her closest cousin, found it very natural to smile. A lot. “Not quite like that.” It was almost disarming, especially in that accent. Most men didn’t even remember someone’s eye color, especially not inside… and now with Lou wearing sunglasses. “Yeah, that wasn’t polite at all,” she chastised. “Complimenting me before you tell me your name.” The sarcasm was obvious; Lou couldn’t recall anyone who had ever remembered their manners after telling her something of hers was beautiful. She shoved her sunglasses up on her head.

With her free hand, she reached, taking his. “Emmylou. Lou, if you want.” She scooted over a bit, unnecessarily. An invitation. “Did you tumble off the train and get left to find your own way, or has someone given you a tour?” He certainly knew how to get around that hotel room.

Even in America, it was a very catching outfit. Stereotypes didn't end just because you were within the country borders. It also happened to be very comfortable and easy to move around it. It was great for working on the ranch, and he had a couple jeans that were dressier with a nice button up shirt. If there were any line dances around, he would dress to impress. Sadly... he hadn’t really encountered very many of those since leaving the States. He did smile at her, a half smirk.

“Puddifoot’s?” Ben glanced around before he saw the name, grinning before pointing at it with his thumb. “Ah. Got it.” It was cute, the accents. The longer he stayed, the better he was getting at telling them apart. When he first showed up onto the island, he’d made the mistake of telling a group of ladies they all sounded the same. Ben tried not to make that mistake again, no matter how hilarious it had been.

Once outside, he looked down at his boots, tipping his weight onto his heels before toes found the ground again. “Thanks.” He worked his mouth around before he settled on a grin. “The hat works as an umbrella, as well.” Dual purpose! He loved when things he owned had more than one use.

When she mentioned the rodeo back at him, he chuckled. “We’re hoping to set one up in the next month or two.” He took a large gulp of the bitter coffee and nearly moaned at the deliciousness. The only thing better than a good, brewed pot of coffee was percolated coffee while camping. He wasn’t going to criticize, though, not when it took so long to percolate. Her assessment of him seemed close enough, so he shrugged and nodded, swallowing the last bit of liquid.

Ben found her sarcasm a refreshing change of pace, and he laughed as it continued. “Emmylou.” He drew the name out, giving her hand a slow but firm shake. “Lou. Emmy is short for...?” He would hate to be presumptuous. Of course, the offered bench was an invitation.

His free hand, once it was out of hers, found its way to his back pocket, fishing out the little circular tin before he sat down. He showed it to her with an eyebrow raised. “You don’t mind?” When she didn’t shout her complaints, he pulled a little out and stuffed it into his cheek on the side farthest from her before offering it first to her and then putting it back in his pocket. “I’ve given myself a bit of a tour. I am curious about the area around here, though. The hills look breathtaking.”

Ben took another sip of his coffee before resting the cup between his thighs, leaning forward just slightly. “Is there a busy night life here, Lou?” He looked her face over as he waited.

“The hat works as an umbrella, as well.”

“That seems much more convenient that the pointed ones they make you keep at school.” Which seemed to delight in rain— though, to be fair, they were only ever required to wear them for very special events. Lou was glad: it was always harder to find who you were looking for when everyone was wearing the same pointed hat. Accidentally hugging some sour Slytherin instead of jumping on George had never been fun. (Even if it had be funny.) “Or… where did you go to school, Salem?”

She was so relieved he wasn’t a professor from Salem that that question seemed negligible. Still, it was interesting. There were a few schools in America, she knew, since it was such a huge place.

“Does it take that long?” She asked, her smile a little cheeky. “Do you do all of it?” He certainly looked like. Riding things would explain the abs she’d seen that morning. If her eyes lingered a little… she was just interested in his answer. “What sort of things do you ride?” The questions just kept coming. She was genuinely interested. And smiling at his apparent taste for the coffee.

“Emily,” she admitted, trying not to sound too much like a child as the word came out of her mouth. It wasn’t a bad name, it just didn’t suit her as well as the shortened version of her pet-name, the simple, tomboy-ish syllable. It had a bit more edge and coolness than Emily. “My middle name is Louise, and the pet name sort of stuck when I was young.” It had been her father’s doing. It also seemed fitting, given how often her mother had used her full name. Her sisters had not been called in that threatening tone so often, and Lou would have forgotten their middle names if she weren’t such a good sister. But everyone knew hers. ‘Lou’ had become easier in recent years… was slightly less of a reminder. But she didn’t mind Emmylou so much.

She watched him fish through his pockets, her eyes moving almost unwittingly to the tin. She looked up at him quickly, back down in realization, and up again. “No, of course not,” she said, shaking her head barely twice. She shook it again a bit, a smile spreading across her closed mouth, a friendly decline. She’d never chewed tobacco before, and starting in front of Abs might end badly.

“Yeah, it is stunning. A bit… small sometimes. But I definitely appreciate it more now that I’m out of school.” Of course, Hogsmeade had held near-mythical glory for first and second year, then all sorts of intrigue for the last five. The promise of weekends out of the castle. But there had also been a smallness to it upon graduation, when she had set her sights on London. Now she’d found a balance, and the town brought a lot of comfort. It was a nice place to work before she went home to the playground of the big city. “Sometimes you find things you didn’t even know you wanted. You know, sort of get lost even though you know exactly where you are. It’s that kind of place.”

She lifted her own coffee, taking a slow sip. “Night life,” she answered, looking to him. “Is definitely better in London. But there are a few cool places here. Signature, the Three Broomsticks. There’s always a lot of people buzzing around. The latter is much more casual.” She grinned. “Or if you want to take it easy, we’re open late enough. Are you looking to get wild? Practice for the rodeo, maybe?”

“You Brits sure do know how to keep tradition alive.” He made a face and glanced around. “Or... well. We’re in Scotland, I suppose.” Ben sighed and shrugged. He laughed when he realized they still wore that awful Revolutionary War fake hair. He’d thought that was just a tad cruel, but law wasn’t supposed to be funny. Things were not so traditional where he was from. Robes were less requirement and more trendy in different ways.

When he’d gone to school... it was a lot different than he’d heard about Hogwarts. It was even a lot different to Salem, which he knew was represented at the Tournament this year. He could read the news when it fit him. Speaking of Salem... he grinned and shook his head. “No. Closer to home. It’s in Colorado.” Which probably meant nothing to her. He recited the name for her before grinning. “It takes a lot of the less inhabited states around it and bunches us all together.” Compared to home, it was mild weather.

She certainly was interested in the rodeo. Eyebrows rose just slightly before he pushed his tongue into his cheek, considering the questions. “Not normally. Set up can be done in a day, as can the clean up. The hardest part is finding a place that the Ministry will let the organizations set up. Lot of permits and... politics wrapped up in it.” That didn’t even touch on the animals and handlers that they had to tackle.

“I ride specific beasts. Graphorns, when we can get the permits for them, Aethonan, and the occasional Hippogriff. If we can build a bigger fan base and better sponsers, we could make it bigger.” He gave a half-hearted shrug. There were a lot of moral objectors. “And it’s less riding and more holding tight and hoping you last until the buzzer.” Again he shared a wink with her. If she was getting more information about the rodeo than she ever dreamed possible... that was what he was useful for. “Muggle rodeos are a little less messy. I ride bulls professionally, in their circles.”

Emily was going to be his guess, but he was glad she gave it up without him having to put it out there. “Emmylou fits you very well.” Ben squinted and tilted his head, leaning back just slightly as if he was getting her set up for a frame. “Lou works too.” He stood straight up and grinned.

“You should write the brochure for this place.” He laughed and glanced around the street they were sitting near. It definitely screamed old and European. Many things, especially out West, were more modernized. It was hard to find something old that hadn’t been made to look that way or wasn’t part of an American Indian tribe. Ben loved that aspect of his culture, of course, but it did blow his mind a little when he came over to look at places that had stood for hundreds upon hundreds of years.

And were still used.

His eyes rolled as he let out a ghost of a laugh. Of course London was more fun. “Yes, I checked out the Three Broomsticks last night. It was nice, for a small bar.” The way she said the next part had him eyeing her more carefully, slight surprise on his face before he grinned, laughing as his head tipped back. His tongue pushed the tobacco further against the pocket of his cheek, taking a big gulp of coffee before he responded.

“I ride angry beasts for a living. I’m always looking to get wild.” He kept her gaze as he said it. He could match her cheekiness. “Are you off?” Eyes took her in again before his thumb pointed over his shoulder. “Work.” He grinned before working the patch in his mouth a little better, turning his head out of her way before getting rid of some of the built up saliva into a bush. “I could use a real tour.”

Emmylou was sure it would take too long to get into British but Scottish but not British, but it sounded like he understood. She zeroed in, instead, on the other bit of his comment. “Not a traditional sort?” Her smile was bright, the million thread of that question dangling overhead.

“Colorado…” She had heard of it, probably in the same Americans had heard of her home city.  But Americans had so many states. “Where is that? And where’s home?” She couldn’t place the accent. To Emmylou it was a standard American one, like a London accent. But the rodeo career made her think of the south and the wild west, of Texas, the images she had grown up associating with other American accents.

Emmylou could only imagine the pain of trying to coordinate with the Ministry. And the beautiful hills. “They’re the not quickest bunch,” she agreed. She was still bitter toward many of the aurors, even if she had friends training in the department. The ones who dealt with red tape were probably a nightmare. “But at least you’ll get to stick around and take in everything Hogsmeade has to offer.”

What he was doing with his tongue kept her attention as much as his words, but Lou had the grace to keep cool. That list of beasts was impressive, definitely more so than the shiny Ministry badges so many young men in pubs thought to flash with egotistical grins. “It must be fun, dodging a Graphorn’s horns.” Now she knew where those abs came from.

Emmylou’s smile seemed to laugh. “How often do you hold on long enough?” If there was an underlying message there, a joke in his brazen point… she was going with it. “The muggles must love you. Going from graphorns to bulls…” He probably made it look easy. He definitely had the look about him. Emmylou didn’t know anything at all about bull-riding, but it didn’t matter. She had seen his face.

As he playfully appraised her, she sat up properly, swanlike, purposefully melodramatic. Just so that he could confirm his initial thoughts. But then she relaxed— which was decidedly more her. “Yours suits you, too, Ben.” She took another sip of her coffee, looking at him casually over the brim.

She was always for chatting with someone who recognized her obvious brilliance. “If they let me write it, you’d have trouble booking train tickets,” she promised. But then: “That’s small to you?” Space could be at premium in these little villages, and sometimes even more so in London. “I guess everything really is bigger in America.” Her face asked the obvious question. Everything?

She was cursing her break now, with the promise of a wild cowboy beside her. She looked back, obvious interest in her eyes, more questions flying around in her brain, daring to leap off the tip of her tongue. “I’m not,” she admitted, sounding a bit crestfallen. Her face looked doubly so. But she offered a weak, guilty smile. Which became bit more cheerful as she kept talking. “I will be in about four hours.”

If he still wanted the tour by then, Lou would definitely give up a night home in London. “A pretty sunset and then all that nightlife. The native angry beasts come out.”

“Depends on what traditions we’re talking about.” He considering making a joke about dropping the lame traditions the English kept that the Americans decided they didn’t want after the War, but he had learned that jokes about the Revolutionary War weren’t so easily taken on the motherland. “My momma did raise me right.” If he was laying on the cowboy stint a little for her sake, then it was because he thought she was cute.

The way she said Colorado didn’t seem promising. He laughed and tried to think of the easiest way to explain it, glancing to the sky for help. “It’s near the center of the mainland United States. And I’m from Montana, a sparsely populated state in the northwest, bordering Canada. Home’s currently the Highlands. A small plot of land.” He smiled wistfully. A neighbor was keeping an eye on Cheeky for him, making sure the young colt had fresh hay and feed. It was just for the weekend, while they tried to prove to the Ministry how safe an aerial rodeo could be.

“That’s what I’m hoping for.” Even if he wasn’t the biggest shopper around, he supposed he could see if there was anything his mom or dad might enjoy.

“Fun and an adrenaline rush. They are harder to fend off a fallen rider than regular bulls... but that’s what the rodeo clowns are there for.” And thank God for that. Ben would buy any person willing to put themselves between him and an angry animals dinner and a beer.

This girl looked like she was trouble. Where she looked like she could laugh, he actually did. “Often enough to make it a lucrative profession.” Ben merely shrugged and eyed her a moment. “Maybe you should check out the muggles before you assume their best.” Because clearly his adoration was the highlight for muggles.

Speaking of train tickets made him smirk. “I could just ride in.” Take his muggle toy out for a spin; it wasn’t the same as a pickup back home, which made hauling hay easy around the ranch. Not that he had far to go now... The motorcycle was definitely cheaper than trying to find a pickup and pay the gas for it.

He was lucky he wasn’t drinking anything or he might’ve spit it out. Laughter did spill out and he leaned back into the bench a little easier, arm slipping over the back of it as he watched her more carefully. “We have small bars in America too. But if you can get away with a bigger space... and a dance floor and darts and pool tables, then you should.” Because that was how most of the bars were back home that he frequented. Ben wasn’t going to give away all his secrets just yet, letting her unspoken question go unanswered for now.

“Aw.” It was important to pay those bills, though, he could understand that. A lick of his lips gave away how interested he was. “Four hours?” That should give him enough time to show up and deal with the rodeo crew. “I’m down.” Ben shifted on the bench and took another sip of his coffee before nodding a direction off with his hat. “I’m staying at the bed and breakfast just down the way. If I’m not back for you in four hours... meet me there.”

Emmylou wasn’t a hard-ass about tradition. Some she liked. Others? No thanks. “Well, I think it’s obvious how you feel about stuffy robes and hats.” It was her turn to wink. Almost. “I’m with you there.”

The way he said momma had her wanting to skip the rest of her shift and take another stroll past that window. But when she was talking to the real thing, why bother? She supposed she could suffer through the rest of a shift. “My mum tried,” she countered, emphasizing the right way to say the word… despite obviously enjoying the way he said it.

Lou envisioned the shape of the states and decided she knew roughly where he was from. Or had gone to school. Canada made her think of other things, like maple syrup, not cowboys. “You don’t like cities, but you want crowded bars,” she summarized, without Ben even suggesting the former. All he’d said was that he lived on a plot in the Highlands. She felt at liberty to guess. “I bet you have a barn and everything.”

She laughed, even as she thought about how exciting it would be to ride one. “Poor rodeo clowns. Or rodeo broom riders.” She guessed. Again. Emmylou’s imagination was taking a lot of liberties and leaps with this one… maybe getting a little too detailed. But a girl could use her break how she wanted. And she’d already seen some of what made him without having to guess.

His next answer was less laugh-worthy. She merely smiled. It was promising information. Not that she thought he was bad at riding anything if he looked like that and was in the middle of bickering with the Ministry. “Hey, I have nothing against muggles! I just assume things that fly and have skin tougher than a dragon’s might prepare you for life.” Bulls had their tough spots, though. And their… well-known features.

“I could just ride in.”

“Broom?” Now she was really interested. “Do you park a graphorn in the bike rack?”

He evaded her real question, which was probably for the best. She already knew more than could have been left to the imagination. Emmylou needed a little adventure. “We have a dancer…” Her grin became huge. And the prospect of an adventure…

After her shift.

Encouraged by the look on his face, she lifted her coffee toward him in agreement. “I’ll be here. Or there.” His hotel. Her smile became a little saucy. “Or in the nearest bar with a pool table, dance floor, and room for cowboy hats.” She shifted closer, eyeing the hat. “I’ll show how you to be a real Hogsmeadian, Ben.” Even if she didn’t live here.

---

Later, on her longer lunch break, she had Apparated home to snack on whatever was in her cabinets and change her clothes. It would be colder that night, which meant Emmylou had to dress accordingly. If it was a thinly veiled excuse to dress for a night out, well. Her coworkers had lives and boys to chase, too.

At the end of her shift, she’d thrown on a jacket, stopped into the lavatory to run a hand through her hair in the mirror, and ambled outside to loiter in the glow of the cafe’s lights. She spotted the hat before she even spotted Abs himself. Which was a feat. He definitely had a way of dressing.

“You found it again,” she teased, knowing exactly how small Hogsmeade was. “How did the meeting go?”

Her mum. Ben laughed and tilted his head a little, watching her for a moment as he considered it. What a cute little accent she had. Even if the English protested that they didn’t have an accent, and that he had one, he knew better. It was obvious who said words wrong in this duo; Ben knew. “Your mum, of course.” He emphasized it for her, Americanizing it for her.

“Not necessarily crowded bars, but it can be nice to be surrounded by people who need the same thing.” A drink and a feeling of not being alone. Mixed in with some music and maybe a game of pool. Once again he was laughing, rubbing his chin in thought before he nodded. “A small one, anyway. My folks have a large one, back home.” A couple, if he was honest. Plus his mom’s parents ranch, down the road, and his brother was looking into buying nearby as well...

There was room for horses and milking cows and chickens. He wondered how Rosy’s offspring was doing. Ben realized he’d have to call his mom soon and give her an update. He’d been ignoring his mail for a couple weeks as well...

“They are a God-send, either way.” Rodeo clowns definitely had just as much potential for injury as the riders. Ben raised an eyebrow and smirked; he had just been playing with little Lou over muggles.

When she questioned what he rode in on, he made a face of confusion at first. The thought of riding a graphorn for a daily commute made him laugh loudly. “No... definitely not. Motorcycle. Vroom vroom?” His hands came out as if he was grabbing the handles, turning the throttle each time he said ‘vroom.’

“I’m looking forward to it, Lou.” Even if he had gotten acquainted with the bar the night before.

---

The meeting had gone on a lot longer than he’d expected. In the end he’d gotten irritated and tried to point out the upsides to the Ministry. “Not only will it be held outside of the city limits, but it’ll also be during the summer vaca- holiday for Hogwarts. No worry about corrupting little kids. Plus we have to pay the tax on the area, right?” It had been getting more and more frustrating as they came down to the wire for setting it up. A lot of wasted time and money if they couldn’t secure it.

In the end, they agreed to at least put the permit through. Ben had left with a little bit of a huff, but blew the steam off as he walked through town. By the time he neared the coffee place, he felt better. Especially when he saw what was waiting for him. Now he felt bad for not being able to shower or change.

He glanced her over, offering an appreciative whistle before he stood in front of her. “I did.” Because the town was so big. At the mention of the meeting, he took a measured breath and finally smiled. “I’m just glad it’s over so I can have some fun with you, Lou.” He offered her his arm. “So where are you thinking we should go? Ladies choice.”

She liked the way he attempted to say the word correctly. She liked his idea of bars, too. That, combined with the way she envision his farm (those abs on that backdrop) was more than enough to keep her prodding and pushing her luck. Or getting lucky.

A motorcycle. Fewer words sounded so sweet to Lou’s ears. She seemed to perk up, eyes brightening, as if the caffeine and view weren't doing the job already. She had never been on one, but she'd always coveted them. Growing up in a metropolitan area, with a family that used magic, she had never been able to convince her parents to buy a cool, impractical mode of transportation. (Outside of a few brooms, which had usually been gifts from her father, and which Emmylou did love.)

Eyes shifted between his demonstrating eyes and then back up to his face. “Well now you’re going to have to show me that before you skip town for the next rodeo.”

But tonight’s plans seemed brilliant without that added bonus of a loud engine.

---

She raised a brow at his whistle, maybe basking in it a little, and tilted her face up, lips pursing together in a secretive smile, cheeks rounding. “That bad, huh?” She asked, her expression dissolving into a broader grin. “I hope you didn’t waste too much energy on them…”

The promise of fun made her doubt that very much.

Her limbs were loose, her movements casual as she took his arm. She tugged a little, turning to the side to look at him properly as they ambled up the road. “Did you do a hands-on demonstration?” Her eyes swept from his face, down. She already knew the answer to that, but she couldn’t help asking. “Maybe that will help them see the light.”

“Do you like pizza?” She asked. It probably wasn’t the question most people expected, not in Hogsmeade. Even so, she lead them slowly in the general direction of the tiny, down-to-earth Italian place off the main road (which luckily was the same direction as a row of good bars and night scenes). The served the usual pastas and comfort dishes, but they also had a brick-oven stove and great pizza. She’d been a couple of times, and had even brought George a pie while he was healing.

Grinning at the prospect of being in charge, she very naturally adopted the voice of a tour guide— a fun one, obviously, not the stuffy, shrill kind who spent too much time pointing out ever famous researcher’s favorite haunt. “That,” she began, the melodrama of a scary story and loud whisper of a documentarian both coloring her tone. “Is Dogweed and Deathcap. They’re herbologists, but potions ingredients aren’t exactly why all of the students like to loiter around.” She eyed him from the side again, her lips almost forming a kiss as she raised her wand vaguely referred to why everyone really loved a good herbologist. “Slim pickings for contraband around here,” she added with a shrug.

“And there’s Dervish and Banges, which will help you fix things, if you accidentally break your self-heating, self-refilling tea kettle or crack your Pensieve.” Because nothing said Abs like tea and dwelling on old memories. “And there is the world-famous Honeydukes.” It needed no further explanation. She had come to a stop, pointing from across the road. They could smell it even from here. “So go easy on the pizza before we hit the bars, alright?”

He shook his head at her question, smirking as he took a deep breath and let it out. “No. Bureaucracy isn’t my favorite thing.” Ben had come to loathe upper management and the inadequate and hard to find leadership skills of people that were put into power just because they had the years and a college degree when he was in the military. He loved his country, he loved his fellow comrades. That did not mean that the people running things knew what they were doing.

Luckily his last unit had been comprised of many top-notch leaders. And they had to work well together to accomplish a mission with the least amount of resources. There were many times he missed it, and just as many times that he didn’t.

How he got sucked into helping organize the rodeo, he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

He laughed and eyed her as they started walking; he pulled her in closer while readjusting his hat with his free hand. “I’ll work on that tomorrow, maybe. Do you even know what a demonstration would entail?” Did she want to know?

The next question seemed rhetorical. He scoffed. “How could I not?” Ben grinned nonetheless; his stomach seemed to growl in appreciation. “I might need a whole pizza to myself, though.” He hoped she wasn’t like those girls who tried to impress by eating a salad. The tour was something he settled into easily, leaning his head towards her to hear the conspirator at work. “Is that something a lot of the Hogwarts kids do?”

Ben was sure there had been plenty of kids pushing boundaries and limits when he was in school. Especially in Colorado. It just wasn’t as big of a deal, from what he remembered. Cigarettes were bigger amongst his peers; someone had turned him on to chew shortly after school, and there was no looking back for him. It was one of those things you could enjoy indoors without a lot of people catching you.

“Is a tea kettle just part of an English household? Like... you buy the house and it comes with one automatically?” That would be one way to advertise: two bedrooms, one bath, one tea kettle. Please inquire for price. He found the tea thing interesting, and the instant kettles had been fantastic for a quick cup of instant coffee in the morning.

Ben stopped when she did, admiring the small shop and inhaling the air, getting a small whiff of it. Finally he pulled forward, his arm slipping; his hand caught hers and quickly tugged her after him, glancing over his shoulder at her as he grinned. “Are you trying to get me drunk already, Emily?” He cocked an eyebrow before turning his attention back to the area in front of him, opening the door for her and following in behind, slipping his hat off once he had. “What do you want?”

Lou let out a laugh of understanding, shaking her head and glancing up the road before looking back at him again. “Yeah, I agree with you there.” All the red tape protecting killers and stalling aurors, stopping answers… she knew what he meant. Even if her own problems with the Ministry had nothing to do with creatures or games and sports departments. It sounded like a pain, but she still really wished they did. Emmylou pushed that thought away. “On the plus side, you get to drive the motorcycle to the stadium whenever they do let you start.” Her brows seemed to dance again.

“I might have a very skewed… brilliant idea in my head. Tell me what it would entail.” She waited for him to do that. “Do you get to keep your hat on?” Her grin was beaming now.

She knew it was a dumb question, but she had to make sure the American liked pizza. Because they weren’t more famous for it than Italy or anything. She was a good tour guide. Thorough. “As long as you’re in the mood for it…” Who wouldn’t be? “And don’t worry, I’ll match you pizza for pizza. I’m sure not bull-riding makes a bull rider hungry.” Arguing with the Ministry sure would. As would certain habits they were now discussing. Emmylou gave an easy smile. “It’s not a huge thing, but it’s… I mean if someone has the goods, why not, right?” Lou wasn’t a stoner. But she knew a few. And she wasn’t going to say no if someone was handing it out for free. “Why, are party habits different in the states?”

The tea kettle comment brought another laugh. “Something like that. But I usually prefer coffee.” Well, sometimes. It depended. “Do all of your houses come with free trucks?” Not that she minded the mental image of this one driving down a dirt road… “You guys really like your big cars.” There was the tiniest suggestion in the comment, but now she wasn’t asking.

“Am I allowed?” She asked, tempted by his question. But where he was tugging her to would only get them both drunk on pizza. And maybe beer. The combination of the cowboy and the smell that enveloped them when they stepped in was enough for her to forget that she still had to show him all of the exciting things in town, like the junk shop and the book store. “Anything with cheese on it. I'm not picky. But their margherita's a classic and the pepperoni's delicious. I guess we need a raincheck on the Shrieking Shack,” she mused, as she glanced appreciatively from his hat hair to the woman who told them to sit wherever they liked. She picked a high table near the window. “What do you want to drink?” She asked, as the same woman approached a moment later, quill in hand.

Ben couldn’t argue there. “It is very pretty, the countryside.” The chill was enough to keep you on your toes. There was something about a powerful engine between his legs that hummed and roared that just got into his bones and made him feel giddy. When he could, he took it for a ride. Back home they had a few dirt bikes around the property that had had to have the motors replaced a few times, the way he had learned how to ride them.

His siblings, for the most part, had been very curious about the world around them. His sister and he used to race them along the fence, when his parents were busy with the younger kids. Fond memories of childhood that he wouldn’t trade for the world.

Skewed and brilliant. Ben chewed lightly on his lip before laughing and rolling his eyes. “Well, what you do first-” He proceeded to explain about getting on whatever animal and cinching up, complete with a stop in their walk to show how his legs bent over an imaginary animal, one hand tucked under the bull rope. After his explanation, he scoffed at her question. “Of course! Some people wear a helmet with a protective face shield, but the hat is just... part of the getup.”

He admired her from the side; if she matched him pizza for pizza... at the very least, Ben had a new pizza-eating friend. “When you’re not busy, it can be easy to fill that time with deliciously cheesy food.”

Party habits between the two countries didn’t sound entirely too different, so he shook his head and smirked. “Not in Colorado, anyway. Most other states view certain substances as very against the law, though. It just depends.” Alcohol and nicotine was usually the main scored items for school underground parties.

Now it was his time to laugh, a surprised belly-laugh that took him over for a moment. “If they did, I’d have invested stateside. You don’t realize how much you rely on a truck until you don’t have one to help out.” That was one reason Ben only had one horse. Hauling bails of hay around, even with a wand, was a pain in the ass. Even the little tractor thing he had only did so much.

Ben watched her carefully before following to the table, pulling himself into the chair after she had settled. He hung his hat from the corner of another chair before he leaned back and stretched. “Whatever you have on tap, dark beer.” Hands settled comfortably on his legs. “I’ll have a pepperoni, sausage, and black olive pizza. Lou?” He looked from the waitress to Emily, smiling easily before running fingers through his pushed down hat hair.

The countryside definitely suited him. Emmylou hadn’t needed to talk to him for longer than fifteen minutes that morning to know that. (Really one look could tell her, but she was pleased to hear he had substance in other ways.)

She laughed with him, waiting for an elaboration on what he did. For the educational value of it, obviously. As they stopped for the more animated part of his demonstration, she look him over, eyes lingering on the invisible bull, playing along. “That one’s going to give you problems,” she appraised, furrowing her brow lightly at something that didn’t exist. Then her eyes roamed toward his bent leg. “But I think you can handle him.” She pushed her mouth into a half-amused, half-secret smile. “But you know, if they made you ride cows, you’d be in real trouble.”

She laughed again at his scoff, again looking at the hat. She wasn’t sure she could get sick of admiring it. It definitely wasn’t the standard hat one saw in Hogsmeade. Or even London. There were new things to be discovered. “Helmets for a little animal?” She teased, in a winking voice that suggested she knew how dangerous it was. “That sounds like something my cousin’s girlfriend would come up with.” If she didn’t try to get it banned entirely. Lou could agree with one aspect of safety gear: if it protected that face, everyone should invest.

She couldn’t imagine him being not busy for long stretches, but it was good that he didn’t have some special diet for those magic abs. Magic. Ha. Magic wished.

“That sounds about right,” she said, of his explanation of party culture. “Except you lot have weird age laws for alcohol, so everyone overdoes it when they’re finally of age. Or just ignore it and get in trouble.” Not that those statements weren’t also very true across the pond, minus the excessive laws. “I mean, you poor thing. Twenty-one?!”

Driving culture was different, though. She smiled at his laugh. “I guess there’s not as much room for your entire house in a motorcycle. At least you have a wand, right?” Her brows shot up.

“I’ll have the same,” she said, on the topic of the drink, giving the woman a friendly glance before looking back at Ben. “Mmm… Bacon and sausage and peppers.” Protein and spice and everything nice. She liked the way he pushed back his hair, too. It was going to be a good night— even without London in the background. “How long have you been in the Highlands? Did bull-riding in the states get boring?” She could hardly believe that was the case. She was suddenly thankful that he wanted to help expand the sport, though. “Or did they beg you to come over and help?”

Soon enough their drinks arrived, and Emmylou lightly clinked her glass against his before taking of sip of the indeed very dark beer.