𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄 chapter eight; Sally In The Three Broomsticks " You, Salem Gerard, are such an idiot. "
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ROMAN MAYES LIVED ten meters above the pub in which he worked. He'd been looking for both a steady job and housing when none other than Madam Rosmerta met him and offered him both. Roman was kind and respectable, he lit up the pub without much effort, and had never once tried to flirt with any of the patrons, which Rosmerta appreciated greatly.
"Mayes, I'd love to know how you continue to manage to be late for work," Rosmerta said flatly as the redhead came stampeding down the stairs, still pulling a flannel shirt over his plain white t-shirt.
"Must be magic," Roman said, grinning cheekily as the woman rolled her eyes and left him at the bar by himself.
Now, Roman loved his work and where he lived. He'd forever chased the idea of youth, never wanting to succumb to his age, and a pub seemed the perfect way to do this. Meeting people from all over, kids from Hogwarts who tried to swipe firewhiskey from him, it all kept him young— it chased the wrinkles and arthritis away.
"Did you ever figure out how you managed to chase that poor girl out of here?" Rosmerta asked, breaking the silence.
In all honesty, the girl with red hair who was clearly a student at Hogwarts scrambling away from Roman hurt his ego just a little. He took pride in being warm and welcoming and never creepy, but somehow he'd scared a girl off.
"No clue," He sighed sadly, "Hope I'm not doin' it right now."
Rosmerta gasped and ran into the back, making Roman's hearty chuckle fill the otherwise empty pub. He ducked beneath the bar briefly, eyeing the varying levels of beverages, ready to put quill to paper when he heard the door creak open.
"Welcome to The Three Broomsticks—" Roman's words died on his tongue when he stood fully and set eyes on the redhead.
She looked just as shy as previously, but her attire had changed just slightly. The girl was dressed in a skirt, paired with thick tights to fight off the bitter cold, her mustard yellow top screamed from beneath an oversized denim jacket, and her red waves still fell in rebellion. Her hands were hovering at her waist, busied by twisting a rather long, dark wand.
"You ran out of here the other day," Roman recognized, pointing and quickly making his way from behind the bar, "Was it something I did— Rosmerta thinks it must've been the new beard—"
"Oh, um, no," She cut off quickly, making Roman clamp his lips shut, "Your, um, beard is fine."
Roman subconsciously scratched at his facial hair. The girl squeezed her eyes shut and let out a long breath, almost as if she were clearing her lungs entierly.
