"Dell said you come from Manchester. What do you think of the countryside?"
"It's very nice," Severus said, trying to smile amiably. His nearest neighbors, older Muggles, lived over a small hill with a bit of forest on it. They were nice, and they'd begun stopping by from time to time. He'd decided to make friends. "I lived in the Highlands for most of my adult life, had a break from it, and now it's nice to be back where it's green."
"I know precisely what you mean," Monica said, nodding decisively. "When I was a child, we used to vacation in France or with my cousins in Italy. My husband and I ran our practice in London for a long time, though, and we didn't travel much. When we retired, it was hardly a question of where to do it."
"How did you find this place?"
"Our daughter recommended it, actually. She stumbled across our little village on a business trip. And you?"
The rolling hills and woody grottos were positively overflowing with potions ingredients, which had made it an ideal place to relocate after the war. "I was passing through, but instead of moving along I bought a house."
Monica laughed. Her laugh was more of a cheerful giggle, something that belonged to a much younger woman. It was familiar, too, but he'd yet to be able to place it.
"Well, I'm glad you did."
She was like Minerva McGonagall and Molly Weasley rolled into one. A softhearted intellectual. Fine gray-silver hair pulled back into a utilitarian ponytail, plaid shirt over a white t-shirt, blue jeans. She'd brought along a thermos of tea, a fantastic blend her daughter mixed. She randomly dropped by for tea and talking. Her husband was much the same, favoring the plaid shirts and bringing along something hot to drink.