A Hogsmead Outing
The halls of Hogwarts were eerily quiet, most students having already left for the holiday break. Snow blanketed the grounds, crunching softly beneath their boots as Hermione and Draco made their way toward Hogsmeade.
“This is ridiculous,” Draco muttered, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck. “Why didn’t we just take a carriage?”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Because the walk is nice.”
“It’s cold.”
She gave him a look. “You’re acting like you’ve never experienced winter before.”
He huffed, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. “Winter is fine when it’s enjoyed from inside a manor, preferably near a roaring fire.”
Hermione only laughed, shaking her head as they trudged along the snowy path.
By the time they reached Hogsmeade, the village was alive with holiday cheer. Wreaths adorned shop doors, enchanted fairy lights twinkled in windows, and the scent of cinnamon and roasting chestnuts filled the air.
“I need to pick up a few things,” Hermione said, adjusting her gloves. “Do you mind?”
Draco sighed dramatically. “Of course not, Granger. Nothing sounds more thrilling than following you around while you compare ink brands.”
Hermione ignored him, leading the way into Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop. To Draco’s great suffering, she did spend an absurd amount of time comparing ink bottles. He leaned against a display case, exhaling loudly every so often, just to make sure she knew how bored he was.
When she finally made her selections, she turned to him with a smug smile. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”
He scoffed. “I lost at least three years of my life.”
Hermione merely rolled her eyes before dragging him to Tomes & Scrolls, where she spent another eternity perusing books. He didn’t even bother complaining this time—just found a chair, sat down, and resigned himself to his fate.
When she finally emerged, carrying two new books and looking entirely too pleased with herself, Draco stood and stretched. “Are we done yet?”
“Just one more stop,” she said, leading him down the street.
Draco followed, only half paying attention until she stopped in front of a small shop with a frosted window display. Inside, shelves were lined with carefully wrapped parcels, delicate glass bottles, and small boxes tied with festive ribbons.
Hermione stepped inside, heading straight for the counter, where an elderly witch greeted her with a warm smile.
“Back again, dear?”
Hermione nodded. “I need another batch of lavender balm, and—” She hesitated, glancing over at Draco before adding, “—and something for dreamless sleep.”
Draco frowned but didn’t comment as the witch disappeared into the back. When Hermione turned back to him, he gave her a pointed look. “Having trouble sleeping?”
She shrugged. “Sometimes.”
Draco didn’t press, but when the witch returned with the wrapped parcels, he waited until Hermione had paid before stepping forward.
“And I’ll take one of whatever helps most with sleep,” he said casually, sliding a few coins across the counter.
Hermione’s brow furrowed. “You don’t have trouble sleeping.”
Draco smirked. “Maybe I just like to be prepared.”
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him but said nothing as they left the shop.
“Lunch?” Draco suggested, nodding toward The Three Broomsticks.
Hermione shook her head. “Too crowded. Let’s go to The Hog’s Head.”
Draco raised a brow. “You’d rather eat in that place?”
She smirked. “What, afraid of getting your hands dirty?”
Draco scoffed. “Hardly.”
Still, as they made their way toward the rundown pub, Draco couldn’t help but wonder how he’d ended up here—spending his holiday break in a half-empty castle, trudging through snow, shopping for bloody ink, and now, about to eat in the Hog’s Head of all places.
And strangest of all?
He didn’t really mind.