Chapter Text
Paulina Puddifoot was a savvy businesswoman, but a romantic at heart.
After all, as the proprietress of Hogsmeade’s premiere destination for budding courtships and romance, she had to be both. She was proud to offer the most charming atmosphere for romance on the Hogsmeade High Street. She firmly believed young Hogwarts students needed a place to explore a potential romantic connection outside of the school grounds, a place where young witches and wizards could court each other properly.
The House common rooms didn’t offer a particularly inviting atmosphere, what with small First Years ogling and snickering at the canoodling couples. Inter-house relationships had an even more difficult time courting. Nothing dampened a budding romance more than seeing a professor, or worse, the Headmaster or Headmistress, out of the corner of your eye when you were trying to sneak a kiss from your sweetheart.
And what did Paulina think of the romantic possibilities at the other pubs and eateries on the High Street?
Paulina maintained that the tea shop was more intimate and inviting than The Three Broomsticks. That shameless hussy Rosmerta certainly loved to boast about her common pub. So what if the Hogwarts professors preferred to gather there than the tea shop? It was better for the courting couples to avoid their teachers and come to Madam Puddifoot’s instead.
And Aberforth’s disgusting excuse for a bar was the antithesis of romance. It was sticky, there were hags leering at patrons from every corner, and worst of all, it reeked of goat.
No, no, those other places would never do for young love. Paulina was very proud to have cultivated what she believed was the ideal atmosphere for blossoming romance at Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop.
Paulina fussed constantly over her decor, and believed that true romance flourished in a beautiful space.
She loved putting detailed doilies on every table, adding beautiful bows to the backs of the chairs, and fancy frills on the tablecloths. The curtains at the front of the shop were a very rare, very expensive elf-made lace, purchased as a gift to herself after ten years in business. Hovering above the tables, dozens of softly glowing lanterns slowly meandered about the room and changed colors depending on the flow and mood of the conversation at the table they were currently floating above.
It was an altogether charming effect, she thought.
Lining the walls of the shop were nearly a dozen mismatched bookshelves, filled haphazardly with rows upon rows of books. Books about the language of flowers, of what it meant to give someone a red rose versus a Pervuvian lily. Books about how to craft the perfect brew with every type of tea imaginable, both Muggle and magical. Several used Hogwarts textbooks were also on the shelves, left behind by students who had invited a classmate to the tea shop under the pretense of studying together. Successful in wooing their sweetheart, the students would leave hand in hand, textbooks happily forgotten on the table.
And then there were the tables themselves.
Small tables for two were fit snugly throughout the shop, an eclectic mashup of whimsical furniture that had caused more than one witch or wizard to sigh, “oh, how charming!” upon entering. Some of the tables were outfitted with quaint wooden chairs, and some with small armchairs upholstered with velvet, damask, or corduroy of varying colors and patterns. Set against the wall to the right of the front door, there was a sweet little loveseat where young witches and wizards would sit very closely and slowly intertwine their legs on the small matching ottoman as their date progressed.
Several tables were close to the large window at the front of the shop, where the showy couples who wanted to be seen together liked to sit. The seating toward the back of the shop tended to fill up quickly, as these tables offered the most privacy. The larger tables in the middle were often moved around by the patrons for the dreaded “group date,” which Paulina absolutely detested because it made navigating the already cramped cafe nearly impossible.
Each table setting had a unique tea set. Some Paulina had collected on her travels, some she had inherited from her relatives, and many had been gifted to her by patrons whose happily ever afters began in right here in her shop.
Paulina’s office was located to the left of the counter. It was small and cozy, similarly fashioned to the rest of the cafe. Paulina kept her favorite tea set (a little teapot that was fashioned to look like a sow, with little piglet teacups - just darling!), in her office, along with a plush bed for her kneazle companion, a crotchety old tomcat who answered to the name of Pokey. Her desk was made of oak and was large enough for her bookkeeping and a cuppa, which was all Paulina really needed.
Right outside the door to Paulina’s office was a small circular table with two padded wooden chairs. The placement of this table was right in Paulina’s line of sight, and when Paulina’s office door was open, the acoustics of the room allowed the conversation from this table to flow directly into her office.
At first, she didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But occasionally the conversation was particularly interesting and her ears perked up. And sometimes, when the date was going very poorly, she couldn’t look away; it was like watching a botched Wronski Feint.
Paulina soon found that she enjoyed watching people in love. She noticed how some witches and wizards showed their jitters by constantly tapping their feet, and others flushed a shade of light pink when embarrassed. She noticed which couples awkwardly fought over the check, and which wizards grumbled not-so-silently that their date hadn’t offered to split the bill. She even became well versed with some Muggle films; she could now catch the odd reference here and there, like when Muggleborns would quip “here’s looking at you, kid” when raising their cup to their partner.
But Paulina’s favorite type of date to witness was the one where a poor young witch or wizard would realize just how desperately in love they were with the person sitting across from them, all while their unsuspecting partner chattered away, completely oblivious.
Patrons seated at that particular table had no idea that the kindly woman taking their tea orders was observing them with an eagle eye, taking note of their expressions, watching them build up their courage to grab the hand across the table, scrutinizing whether or not someone had a wandering eye…
Paulina didn’t interfere. She wouldn’t dare. But as the proud patroness of the premiere locale in Hogsmeade for public rendezvous, she couldn’t help but take an avid interest in the romances that blossomed, strengthened, or ended at that small, round table.
Paulina saw it all.