"I'll have to see if Miles won't pick up more film for me," Theodore mused. It was remarkably expensive stuff, Polaroid film. Theodore wondered if it wasn't simply his cousin running the price up to fleece his own pockets, but had been utterly flummoxed the sole time he had gone into a Muggle camera shop and asked for film. There were three brands, for a variety of cameras that were all classified as Polaroids, black and white or color, some that required peeling apart, and others that were glossy, and somehow filled with pigments. He had thought to bring in one of the snaps he had already taken, but the salesgirl - with her blatantly unrestrained bosom, thickly-rimmed glasses, and several dozen beaded chain necklaces - had not inspired confidence that she would be of any greater help than without.
To be fair, he had captured dozens of photographs of Padma that he loved, and had purchases a far finer magical camera. There was still something endearing about how the old Polaroid spat out photographs instantaneously, how they faded into focus from murky white.
He looked up when Morgan reappeared with a filled tea tray. "What do you do, when both tables are full?" he asked, curiously. "Just tell people to come back later?" It wasn't indicative of the food or service, that despite the maximum capacity of only eight customers, Theodore had never seen it completely full except for village feasts when extra tables were mysteriously added. Zozma, Theodore knew, was considered eccentric even in Pureblood circles; she likely preferred to limit the amount of customers she might have to deal with at once.