April 29, 1895 — The Florist Potts; Hogsmeade
Laurel Potts

It was raining. Quite hard, which Philomena had planned for (as evidenced by the large elephant ear leaf she was holding over her head), but it was still a bit of a bother to have flooed into Hogsmeade only to have to trudge through the deluge that had decided to thrust itself upon the little hamlet. It was a good thing she’d left Tchaikovsky at home; he absolutely hated the rain and would have thrown a hissy fit if he had to follow Phie through the cold cobblestone streets.

She and Evaneglina made it to The Florist Potts soon enough though, and she deposited her umbrella by the front door as she crossed the threshold.

“Mrs. Potts!” Philomena sang, wiping droplets off of her cheeks and her apron. “Mrs. Potts, are you in?” The smell of freshly cut flowers hit her senses and she sighed in relief. She’d made it, thank Merlin. And without a moment too soon. Lightning crackled through the sky outside followed quickly by a clap of thunder which made the witch jump, then laugh in spite of herself.

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❧ Welcome to Evergardens ❧

"Miss Sprout!" Laurel bustled from the backroom, wiping dirt off her hands onto her apron. "What a pleasure to see you." She beamed at the young lady as her eyes quickly took in the sodden hems of the young lady and her maid. A roll of thunder pulled her gaze to the glass of the front window where lightening cracked against the darkened sky.

"Goddess! Did you come in through that?" The mother in her wanted to scold the young lady, but instead she merely waved her forward, "Come, let's get you warm. I've got a fire in the backroom to help the seedlings." Laurel had been babying the new seeds that Becky's family had sent from across the pond, a new variety of zinnia that she was quite eager to populate. She could already envisage them under Zinnia's window to greet her daughter and granddaughter each morning. Zinnia might live a modest life but that did not mean she or her child should be denied beautiful things.

  

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Mama Potts' is a joy thanks to Bee <3

Witch and maid clutched at each other after the clap of thunder had passed, their gazes moving towards the plump Potts Matriarch that had appeared in the room. Phie looked at her fondly. The Potts and Sprouts had always run in the same circles, often with their professions overlapping, but Phie had always remained grateful that their families remained in a lively competition rather than a resentful one. It was why she always made sure to get her flowers from The Florist Potts.

“We did, and I thought about delaying, but it couldn’t wait.” Phie responded, moving forward to follow Mrs. Potts’ lead. “I’m so sorry if I’m interrupting anything. How are the seedlings going? Did you need any fertilizer? We just got a shipment yesterday and they gave us an extra bag on accident.”

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❧ Welcome to Evergardens ❧

Laurel tutted at the young woman as she bustled her forward. "Nothing that can't be picked back up again later." Laurel assured her waving away her concerns as they entered the cozy backroom of the shop that had always been Laurel's domain. Daffy had done her arrangements upstairs, Thistle had her experiments in the basement, Zinnia and Dahlia had always manned the counter, and Calla had often been found in the greenhouses. This room had always been put aside for Laurel's own projects - and occasionally for her dear sweet herb. Now though it felt superfluous with just Thistle and Calla about, yet some habits were harder to break than others.

"Oh don't you worry about me, young Mason keeps us well supplied. But that is very kind of you to offer. Sit ladies, sit." She insisted to both the young women gesturing to the stools. "I'll have you good and warm in just a moment. Now, where'd I put the tea kettle?" It took Laurel a moment to location it but as soon as her eyes landed on it she had set it to a charmed brewing as she waited for it she took a seat and looked at Miss Sprout.

"Now, dear," She said in a tone of utmost gentleness and bossiness that only mothers like her could manage, "What is it that couldn't wait? News of my seedlings certainly can." She quirked a small smile at this last, assuring Miss Sprout that she was not ignoring her question. As the young lady began to answer Laurel's attention stayed on her but the tea kettle poured three glasses of steaming black tea into hovering porcelain cups each with a different flower on it (for those interested in such things one cup sported a daffodil, another a thistle, and a final an amaryllis) and then floated to each of the three ladies gently nudging their hands until the cups were taken up by their recipient.

  

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Mama Potts' is a joy thanks to Bee <3