A hooded figure walked into the Hog's Head, unerringly making its way to a table with a single occupant.
"I got us a private room," the seated woman said quietly, standing up and picking up two mugs of butterbeer. "Follow me."
The hooded person followed silently; a nod had been the only sign that it had heard the woman's words. Not until they were in the private room was the hood lowered.
"Primrose," Professor Trelawney greeted with a smile as she lowered the hood on her cape.
"Sybill," the other woman said, setting down the butterbeer before moving to give her friend a hug. "How are you! I hear you've landed a post at Hogwarts?"
"Yes," the new professor laughed, "It was surprisingly easy to land the post," she confessed as she sat down, shooting her friend a mischievous grin.
"Ah, let me guess," Primrose said, a matching glint in her eye. "You made absurd predictions when it came to reading the tealeaves or hand lines, and then started acting panicked when the examiner seemed unimpressed or even disappointed?" By her friend's grin she knew she was on the right track. "And then you suddenly went rigid," Sybill nodded, the grin still firmly in place, and Primrose finished, "and made a prediction!"
"Even lowered my voice and rolled my eyes up so that only the whites were visible," Sybill Trelawney said smugly, and Primrose laughed.
"Taught by the best," she said holding up her mug of butterbeer. Sybill clinked her mug against her friend's, echoing the statement. They were both proud graduates of the Muggle school of con artists, after all.