A/N: Just a little something cosy for the holidays. I might continue it depending on the response and my interest.
15th October 1821
Hoss Dagda stared at the two storied structure and despite the biting mid-October evening wind, a feeling of warmth bubbled in his stomach.
It was already dusk even though it was barely 5pm. The cost of being so far North he supposed. Secretly he loved the early darkness. He couldn't say it out loud of course, what social lubricant would he use if complaining about the miserable conditions was out of the picture.
His own little shop-apartment in Hogsmeade. He still couldn't believe it. After five hard years working long hours at the Ministry, he had saved up enough to even consider such a venture. The fact that old Rictus Macnair was swapping his Hogsmeade location to shift to Knockturn alley was just serendipitous and gave him the push he needed to follow his dream.
His own shop! And right in the middle of Hogsmeade High Street too. The front of the building was framed by hexagonal windows on both the ground and first floors. The ones on the ground floor served as displays for window shoppers while the ones on the first floor were even more beautiful. One was a covered and enclosed balcony and could easily serve as a reading nook while the other was part of the attic bedroom and was long enough and wide enough to place a single window seat-cum-bed next to it.
He would have neighbours on both sides of course. A confectioner on one side and a strange shop selling prank items on the other. He didn't mind being squeezed in between neighbours. It felt cosy knowing there was a buffer on each side. It would have felt dreadfully lonely to be so exposed to the wild highland moors if his shop had been one of those establishments on the edges of the High Street. Being in the middle of the street meant a smaller building, but that hardly bothered him. He was, after all, a dab hand at the Expansion Charm. On the credit side of the ledger, being squeezed into a smaller space meant he had been able to negotiate a lower rate for the place.
He shivered as a particularly dogged breeze got under his clothes. Best to go inside. The little bell atop the door tinkled delightfully when he entered and brought a smile to his face. Home sweet home.
The shop floor was bare and dusty. Old Macnair had a furniture business. Not a particular successful one from the sounds of it. What kind of wizard couldn't transfigure a chair on his own? But apparently the wealthy patronised Macnair's creations. Macnair was gone now. Off to the booming Knockturn Alley, apparently the new haunt of the magical Elite. Not that Knockturn was new, but London was all the rage. Hoss couldn't understand why.
After five years at the Department of Magical Cooperation, Hoss couldn't wait to leave London. Being back in the middle of muggles had been an excruciating experience. Muggle technology had gotten more pervasive and invasive, the city dirtier and more crowded. And the Muggles, they had only seemed to have gotten more greedy and violent and domineering with their Empire spread around the world. Even the lowliest hansom driver swanned around as if an elevated being.
Hoss couldn't understand Pureblood fascination with London, and having thought he was a Muggle for the first eleven years of his life he knew Muggles better than most. Purebloods thought themselves above Muggles but were endlessly fascinated by the non magical folk. Macnair was welcome to London. Hoss had been itching to return to the place he considered home, with his people around him.
Behind his new house there was only one more street with buildings including the Three Broomsticks. And then the Black Lake and beautiful Hogwarts looming over the entire village like a Lady. His shop's layout was perfect for him. The front faced away from the loud drunkenness of the Three Broomsticks and yet the back allowed him to look upon the warm merriment of the pub.
The inside was blessedly free of any of Macnair's horrendous creations. But there was a patina of dirt on every surface, not to mention peeling walls, cracked floorboards and general disarray. He huffed good-naturedly at the thought of all the work he would have to do. But there was no stress or anxiety behind the thought. He secretly looked forward to it. He had consciously chosen 'Household Magic' as a third-year elective despite the strange looks he received as one of two boys in the class. But what the other students didn't know was that he never wanted to be dependant on anyone again. He could do everything he needed to survive with not more than his trusty wand. He could clean the surfaces in a wave, repair the floorboards with a few pokes, grow his own crops with a soft chant, cook his food while reading a book, and vanish any filth with a thought.
Yes, cleaning and clearing up the old shop and remaking it in his image would be most enjoyable.