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chapter fifteen
"A FROSTY BITE"
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The air had a frosty bite to it the next Hogsmeade weekend. Emilia had tried her best to keep warm, admittedly hiding her pyjama tee under a jumper and a coat and a woolly scarf. It was mid-November and you could feel it in the air; and, not to mention, it had gotten to that part of the month where some were already creeping up with the big holidays being celebrated the month following.
A couple of students passed her, talking about Dinah's father in hushed tones. Em rolled her eyes. She was this close to snapping back, but she thought that might make matters worse somehow.
She hurried ahead of a large group of fifth-years to get into The Three Broomsticks. She was already looking forward to getting this over with, and she'd rather not have to wait for a mass of teenagers to find a table big enough for their entire party, whilst blocking the doorway. Call her mean, but she couldn't be arsed waiting around for them. Whatever, who cares.
Her godfather was sitting at a table in the corner, far away from most of the Hogwarts students laughing and chatting with their friends, and facing the opposite direction. As Em walked past, she heard a few of the conversations slip into discussions about Rupert Salvatore and Augustus Monarda. She hurried up her pace and sat at the table, where her godfather was nursing a goblet of Butterbeer.
"A lot has happened since we last spoke," said Capulet.
Em said, "You could say that, yeah."
"I wanted to ask you, in person, about what you're planning to do once you've finished school," Capulet told her. Immediately, Em had the response of anyone asked this question, and felt complete dread, even if she had a slight inkling of what she'd like to do. That question brought terror, even to the brave. "I'll be able to help, whatever you're doing... Have you considering my friend's business?"
"Actually," said Em, and she saw her godfather brighten up for the wrong reason. He must've thought she was about to say, actually, I have, in regards to his friend's business. She really wasn't. "I was thinking about re-opening Grandma's old fashion house."
"You've always been good at dressmaking, I suppose..." Capulet frowned. Em raised an eyebrow. He looked unhappy. She felt uneasy. "I thought you would've liked working for my friend... You see, he wants to help us, he wants to make our world a better place."
Em almost explained that, once she had enough profit, she would begin donating a large sum of it to help those affected by Voldemort, but before she could, her godfather was talking again. "You know, I always thought you were the best out of your siblings," he said. She tried her best not to raise an eyebrow, or show any sign of what she was thinking. You're not supposed to think that? You're not supposed to have a favourite? "At least let me help you out. I can loan you more than enough money, I can find the right employees..."
