Hogsmeade Trip

“I wish Harry could come,” Hermione sighed as Filch let them out into the cold evening and they made their way up to Hogsmeade.

“Yeah,” Ron grumbled. “Why wouldn’t McGonagall sign his form, though? It’s not his fault his aunt and uncle are horrible!”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Yes, but Sirius Black, Ron! If he’s really after Harry, I don’t think Harry should be out and about.”

“Yeah, well, even if Sirius Black came running into Hogsmeade right now, how’d he spot Harry in this crowd? Plus, apparently they’re going to station more Dementors in Hogsmeade soon, there’s some legal hold-up or something, Dad told me,” Ron said.

“But we know that Dementors don’t affect Black!” said Hermione. “They wouldn’t stop him!”

“Yeah, but – but…” Ron trailed off.

“But what?” said Hermione smugly.

“But they’d still arrest him if they saw him!”

“But what if they didn’t see him? You said it yourself,” Hermione gestured at the rest of the crowded village. “How’d they spot him in this crowd?”

“Because he’s a mass murderer and looks like a madman and everyone’s on the lookout for him?” Ron suggested.

“Well – well, technically yes, but…” Hermione stuttered.

“But what?” Ron said.

“You have a point,” Hermione agreed grudgingly.

Ron stared at her. “Hermione, are you admitting that you’re wrong and I’m right? Who are you and what have you done with Hermione Granger?”

“Oh, shut up, Ron,” Hermione snapped, but she couldn’t contain her grin.

Before long, they had reached Hogsmeade. The shop windows glowed with a warm, welcoming light in the darkening evening. Halloween decorations were strung up everywhere. Ron and Hermione looked around in wonder, taking in all the shops.

“I wish I have, like, eight more eyes,” Ron breathed. “This is so awesome! I’ve practically waited my whole life to come here! I’ve even been saving since I was – ” Ron’s ears went pink and he fell silent.

“Well, I’ve brought some money,” Hermione said awkwardly, pulling out a bag of Galleons she’d had converted at the start of the year. “We – we can share – if you want, that is.”

“No, no, I’m good. I’ve got my own money, don’t worry,” Ron said, his ears still red. He didn’t want to be a charity case, he could get on just fine.

“Um, okay then,” Hermione put the money back into her bag. “So, where do you want to go first?”

“Um,” Ron said, seeming surprised that she’d asked. “I dunno. Where d’you want to go?”

“Well, I was hoping we could go to Dervish and Banges, I wanted to get another jumper, mine’s all torn. Crookshanks got his little paws on it yesterday,” Hermione said.

“See! That cat’s a menace!” Ron cried.

“Ron, he’s a cat! He didn’t know he wasn’t supposed to play with it. To him, it’s just another ball of yarn!” Hermione said, crossing her arms over her jumper, which Ron noticed had a large tear in it.

“Still! You should keep him locked up somewhere!” Ron said. “Have you seen how stressed he’s making Scabbers?”

“He’s a cat, Ron! It’s what they do!” Hermione cried.

“But you could at least control him!”

Hermione rolled her eyes and fell silent. After a few moments of silence, Ron, sounding annoyed, said, “Okay, fine. I’ll leave it – for now. Only because I don’t want to ruin our first Hogsmeade trip.”

“Oh,” Hermione said, smiling. “Okay then.”

They had reached Dervish and Banges. Ron pushed open the door and Hermione hurried in after him. A small bell tinkled over their heads and a bald, smiling man came over to them.

“And what can I get you two?” He asked.

“Um, I need a new jumper. Mine’s ripped,” Hermione said.

“Alright. And you?” he asked Ron.

“Nothing, I’m good,” he muttered, then sat down on a dusty couch by the door.

“Okay, come right through here, young lady, and I’ll have you measured up,” the man said, pointing through a doorway.

“Okay,” Hermione said, then looked at Ron. “You can go ahead if you want. You don’t have to wait for me.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll wait here,” Ron said. Hermione nodded and the man ushered her into the other room.

Five minutes later, Hermione came out of the room holding a brand new jumper. Ron tried not to fiddle too much with his patched and frayed hand-me-downs as Hermione passed a handful of Galleons over to the man. She stuffed the jumper into her bag and turned to Ron.

“Let’s go?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Ron said, jumping up off the couch and following her out of the door, into the cold evening.

“So where do you want to go?” Hermione asked Ron.

“Um, can we go to Zonko’s?” He asked. “Fred and George get lots of cool stuff from there, I’ve always wanted to visit.”

“Sure,” Hermione said. They made their way through crowds of chattering students and found themselves in front of Zonko’s Joke Shop. The shopfront was brightly coloured, and there were rows and rows of items lining the shelves. Ron and Hermione pushed their way in through the large crowd and started exploring the shop.

“Look at this,” Ron said, pointing at a nose-biting teapot. “Dad once told me about this witch who bought one.”

“What happened to her?” Hermione asked.

“Well, the teacup almost bit her nose off. She managed to smash it to pieces before she lost her nose. They didn’t even give her a refund,” Ron said, picking it up and examining it.

Hermione giggled. “I don’t think we should buy it.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Ron said, putting it back on the shelf.

“I wonder why she bought it in the first place,” Hermione said. “If you want plastic surgery for your nose, I don’t think a nose-biting teapot would be the best way.”

“Dad said she wanted to give it to someone else, but accidentally used it,” Ron said. “And what’s a plastic surgery?”

“You don’t know?” Hermione said. “Oh – of course. I’ll tell you.” She explained how plastic surgery worked, and why muggles used it. Ron looked amazed.

“What? Muggles are crazy. Smart, but crazy. I kinda get why Dad’s so obsessed with them.”

Hermione smiled. “Maybe one day I can show you other cool muggle stuff.”

“Sure!” Ron said, grinning. “I can’t wait!”

After agonising over whether he should buy an Exploding Quill, which blew up in the owner’s face when they wrote with it, or a pot of Disappearing Ink, which would vanish after an hour, Ron decided on both, despite Hermione firmly refusing to give any advice as, according to her, both were very dangerous.

“Ron, an Exploding Quill isn’t very safe! And Disappearing Ink – what if you accidentally used it on homework or something, it would look like you hadn’t done anything!” she said.

“Right. But I’m not going to be the ones using these. I’m going to slip them into Malfoy’s bag. He’s been so annoying – going on about the Dementor attack, and trying to get Hagrid fired – he deserves it,” Ron said.

“Well, that’s true. But you might accidentally use it – just like the witch with the nose-biting teapot!” Hermione said.

“Well, at any rate, getting detention because my homework is blank is better than having my nose bitten off,” Ron said as he handed over a few Galleons. “Aren’t you going to buy anything?”

“No,” said Hermione. “I don’t think pranks are my thing.”

“Well, to each their own.”

They left Zonko’s and wandered up and down the street, Hermione explaining how a television worked as they stared at the shop displays.

“ – and then the pictures move around on the screen,” Hermione finished.

“So, like a magical painting?” Ron asked. “Wait, maybe if I can come over to your house one day, will you show me?”

“Of course,” Hermione said, then immediately got distracted by the sight of the post office. She gasped. “Can we go in there?”

“What? Why?” asked Ron. “Do you want to send a letter to someone? I’m pretty sure Harry would let us borrow Hedwig.”

“No, but it looks fascinating. Please, Ron?” she asked, trying to peer inside the shop.

“Um, alright. You did let me go to Zonko’s,” he said. The two of them headed inside. It was a large shop, and about two hundred owls were sitting on shelves, some shrieking loudly, others hooting softly.

Hermione marched towards a sign at the back of the shop and read it. “Hey, Ron. Look at this! The owls are all colour-coded based on speed and how fast you want to deliver your letter.”

Ron couldn’t find anything particularly exciting about this, but it was nice seeing Hermione so excited, so he forced a smile and said. “Cool! How does it work?” Almost immediately he wished he hadn’t asked. Hermione launched into a tangent about how the owls were tested and their times recorded on a monthly basis, and how they would each get a coloured tag depending on what range their times were in. Internally, Ron wondered how she’d gotten all this information from one sign, but he nodded and played along.

At last, they left the post office – Ron had finally managed to drag Hermione away from where she was interrogating the owner about how the owls were organised. They wandered in and out of all the different shops, examining the products in each shop and weighing the merits of each one. They’d just entered a quill shop, and Hermione had just picked up a quill from the display.

“I mean, it’s really good quality. Look, it’s got a new structure that makes it easier to hold and reduces hand cramps,” Hermione said, showing Ron the sign that proclaimed the new design.

“That’s useful,” said Ron. “Then I could finish the ten million page essays we have to write in our end of year exams. If only it wasn’t a billion Galleons.”

“Well, a billion is a stretch, but you’re right. Twenty Galleons? Not worth it,” Hermione said, turning away from it.

“Exactly. And what’s wrong with our normal quills? We don’t need this overpriced garbage,” Ron said.

“Well, garbage is a strong word, but you’re right. I think I’ll get a normal quill,” Hermione said. They went over to where their normal quills were.

Humming, Hermione picked out one with a particularly sharp tip. Ron closed his eyes and chose one at random, then glanced at the price tag. Apparently deeming it a satisfactory price, he picked it up and went to the counter with Hermione.

“Did you break your quill, then?” he asked her.

“Yes,” she said. “I was finishing my essay on goblin rebellions, it’s really quite fascinating, I just wish we could see their version of history – ”

“You’re probably the only one who has enough willpower to stay awake in his lessons,” Ron muttered. “And let me guess, you were writing so fast that your quill snapped.”

“How did you know?” Hermione asked in surprise as she handed over three Galleons.

“It’s happened before, hasn’t it?” said Ron, shrugging. He passed the shopkeeper two Galleons and Ron and Hermione left the quill shop.

“Well, what about yours?” Hermione asked.

“I… dropped it in the fire,” Ron said.

“You what?” Hermione cried, looking shocked.

“Calm down, it was an accident! I was doing my Potions homework – have I mentioned that Snape is evil? – and I got so annoyed I flung it away from me, and it may or may not have landed in the fire,” he finished sheepishly.

“Wow,” Hermione said. “Okay.”

That was when they passed Honeyduke’s sweetshop. Ron gasped.

“Oh my god,” he whispered in awe. “This is the moment I have been waiting for since this morning.”

“I have to admit, so have I,” Hermione said, and they both pushed open the door and entered the crowded sweetshop. A blast of warm air hit them.

“Ah, this is better,” Ron sighed, looking around the shop. “Oh wow.”

“Oh wow indeed,” Hermione agreed.

They looked at each other, then rushed across the shop.

“Hermione, look at these! Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans!” Ron said, picking up a pack and waving it in front of her. Hermione tore her gaze away from a packet of Jelly Slugs.

“Wow, I’ve never tried them! Are they good?” she asked.

“Good? They’re awesome! But you’ve got to be careful with them,” Ron said. “When they say every flavour, they mean every flavour.”

“Really?” Hermione asked, taking the packet from Ron. “Like what?”

“Oh, you never know what you’re gonna get. There’s normal flavours like chocolate, raspberry, you know – and then there’s flavours like spinach, toothpaste, grass, stuff like that. D’you want to buy some?”

“I’m actually kind of curious, so… yeah, let’s buy them,” she said. Ron grinned and plopped it into the shopping basket.

“What else?” he asked.

“Let’s look around a bit more,” Hermione said.

“Woah, look, it’s those levitating sherbet balls you were talking about,” Hermione said, taking one off the shelf and putting it into her shopping bag.

“Wait, look at these. There’s chocolate balls, and they’re filled with strawberry mousse and clotted cream!” Ron said.

“But look at this!” Hermione pointed at a packet of sugar-spun quills.

“Oh wow, that sounds cool!” Ron said. “But look at these Fizzing Whizzbees. I think I’m gonna get them.”

“Let’s go to the Special Effects section!” Hermione pointed at a wall of shelves on the other side of the shops, a sign above them saying “Special Effects”.

“Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum, huh? ‘Fills a room with bluebell-coloured bubbles.’ That’s pretty cool,” Ron said, taking a pack of them.

“Ice Mice – wow, this place has a lot of sweets,” Hermione said, popping the Ice Mice in her bag.

“Hey, Hermione, look! Toothflossing Stringmints! Aren’t your parents dend-its? Is this the floss thingy you mentioned?” Ron said, pointing.

“Dentists. And it seems to be a candy version. That’s kind of interesting. Don’t think my parents would approve, but…” Hermione grinned mischievously and put them into her bag.

“Ooh, rebellious,” Ron teased. Hermione went red.

“Well, better late than never,” she said.

Ron got a pack of Pepper Imps and Exploding Bonbons and Hermione got a packet of Peppermint Toads. They both stuffed their bags with a bunch of other chocolates for Harry – including a free sample of fudge they were handing out – then paid for their sweets – Ron insisted on splitting the bill 50/50, because, yes, he could pay – and left, their money bags considerably lighter.

They wandered out onto the street, then looked at each other.

“We should save some for Harry,” Hermione said.

“We should,” Ron agreed.

“All the same…” Hermione looked at Ron.

“Just a few,” he said.

“Yeah,” she agreed. Hermione reached into her bag and pulled one packet at random. It was the levitating sherbet balls.

“Go on, eat one,” Ron said. Hermione looked at him nervously, then opened the pack and took one out. It was bright purple, about the size of a marble.

“Is it weird that I’m nervous?” she asked, eying the candy warily.

“Nope,” Ron said. “But what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Don’t jinx it.”

“What? I didn’t put a curse on it.”

“Never mind.”

Hermione put the sherbet ball into her mouth. And waited. For a second, nothing happened.

And then her feet started leaving the ground. Her schoolbag fell to the ground. Her arms flailed madly in mid-air.

“Oh my god!” she shrieked. “I – I’m flying!”

Ron watched in awe. “That’s so cool! It actually works!”

Hermione twisted and stumbled in mid-air, kicking wildly. She was rising higher and higher. “I’m out of control!” she yelped.

“Try and steer!” Ron yelled.

“That’s really helpful,” said Hermione as she stopped kicking and began to spiral downwards. “Just – how exactly do I steer?”

“Use your arms!” Ron said. “That might help!”

Hermione stuck her arms out and made herself as still as possible; slowly, she managed to right herself. She kicked her feet and started rising higher.

“Oh god!” she yelled, trying to get a bit lower. “How do I get down?”

“Um, try staying still! It worked before,” Ron yelled up to her. Hermione stopped kicking and began to descend. Just as she was about to reach the ground, she started kicking again, gently this time, so she floated a few centimetres off the ground.

She looked up at Ron. “I’m flying, Ron! I am literally, actually flying.”

“Well, that’s not that surprising,” he said. “You can fly on a broom anytime.”

“Yes, but in the muggle world, you can’t fly at all,” she said. “Except on an airplane. Plus, I’m not that fond of being on a broom.”

“An air-what?” Ron said.

“I’ll explain it later,” Hermione said. “How do you think you steer?”

“I dunno. Maybe try leaning left and right?” Ron suggested. Hermione leant to the right, and she lurched off in that direction. She yelped and leant left, bringing her back to where she’d been before.

“You’re right!” she said.

“Always the tone of surprise,” Ron grumbled, but he was smiling.

Hermione kicked her feet and rose higher and higher, laughing as she flew up into the cold air. She stopped kicking and fell downwards, kicking her legs again just as she was about to reach the ground.

“How have I never done this before?” she said, yelping as she zoomed off to the right, before leaning left and floating over to Ron.

“I don’t know, but it’s brilliant,” he said, grinning.

“Do you want one?” Hermione yelled over the sound of the cold wind which had sprung up, pushing her left and right.

“Can I?” Ron’s eyes widened.

“Sure, just take one, the pack’s in my bag!”

Ron crouched down and took one of the sherbet balls, a bright green one. He popped it into his mouth, and sure enough, he started floating up into the air, rising up next to Hermione. He turned to her in excitement.

“This is amazing!” he said, kicking hard so he rose up sharply into the air.

“Hey, Ron, wait for me!” Hermione cried, then she started kicking, as hard as she could. Soon she was level with Ron. “Oh, wow,” she whispered.

“Oh, wow, indeed,” he whispered back.

“You can see the whole village from here,” she said. And they could. It was a brilliant feeling, floating in the sky, the cold wind turning their faces pink, the village of Hogsmeade spread out like a picturesque map beneath them.

But Hermione had stopped kicking for a moment too long. She started descending sharply, yelping, but managed to start kicking again. She floated back up to where Ron had been about to come down for her.

“Hermione! Thank god you’re okay!” he said.

“T-thanks,” she said shakily. “But it’s fine, I-I’m alright.” She kept kicking, just in case she started falling again.

“You sure?” Ron asked, peering closely at her.

“Yes, it was just… kind of scary,” she said.

“I don’t blame you for thinking that,” Ron said. “I think my heart almost stopped too.”

Hermione looked down again. The ground seemed a long way down. She swallowed hard.

“Do you want to go back down?” Ron asked. Hermione nodded.

“Can we?” she asked.

“Sure, of course,” Ron said.

Hermione looked down again. What if she fell? What if she didn’t start kicking again in time?

That was when she felt a warm hand close around hers. She looked up, startled. It was Ron, looking awkward and worried, though his grip was firm.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t let you fall.”

And Hermione felt herself blushing. No, stop it, she told herself. Ron’s ears were pink, but he didn’t let go of her hand.

“O-ok,” she said.

They both stopped kicking, and started descending downwards. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and prayed she wouldn’t end up as a pile of broken bones on the ground. The wind whipped her bushy hair into her face, and she was going down too fast, they were going to crash –

And crash they did, tumbling down to the ground, landing in a tangle of arms and legs. Luckily for them, they weren’t that far from the ground, and their bags cushioned the fall. Laughing, they untangled themselves, Ron letting go of Hermione’s hand, and collected their things.

“That was brilliant!” chuckled Ron. “Wasn’t it?”

“Except for the bit where I nearly plummeted to my death, yes,” Hermione said, but there was no venom in her words. “But I don’t think flying is really for me.”

“Is there no way I can get you into Quidditch?” Ron asked as they started walking again.

“Is there no way I can get you into homework?” Hermione asked, mirroring his tone.

“Okay, I’ve got the message,” Ron said, mock-saluting her. Hermione rolled her eyes and wrapped her scarf tighter around her.

“You cold?” Ron asked.

“A bit. It’s getting kind of dark,” Hermione said, looking up into the darkening night.

“I’ve got a solution for that,” Ron said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“You do?” Hermione said.

“Yep,” said Ron, pulling out something from his bag. It was a packet of Pepper Imps. These’ll warm us right up.”

“Um… are you sure about those?” Hermione eyed them warily. “It says they’ll make steam pour out of our mouths and ears.”

“Exactly! We’ll be warm in no time!” Ron grinned.

“Ron…” Hermione said warningly.

“Hermione…” Ron mimicked her.

“Well, alright then,” Hermione said. “I’ll have one.”

“Great,” Ron said, ripping open the packet and handing her one. He took one for himself as well.

“Um, are you sure about these?” Hermione said, looking at the small black imp-shaped candy in her hands.

“Of course I am,” Ron said.

“You go first, then,” Hermione said, crossing her arms.

“Sure,” said Ron, and popped the Pepper Imp into his mouth. Immediately, thick grey steam started flowing out of his ears. Hermione shrieked.

“You look like you’re on fire!” she said.

“It’s the red hair, isn’t it?” Ron asked, grinning. As he said it, the steam started pouring out of his mouth, making it look like he was some redheaded dragon, something that Hermione promptly informed him of.

“You look like a red-haired dragon,” she said.

“That’s cause I am,” he joked, spinning around, creating circles of grey smoke around them.

Hermione giggled, swatting the smoke away. “If you say so.”

“I do say so,” Ron said, laughing so hard – a combination of sugar and adrenaline – he fell to the ground. Slowly, the stream of steam spluttered and slowed down, then stopped, and every last trace of smoke in the air faded away into the cold air.

“Well, a-are you warm now?” Hermione asked though her laughter as she helped Ron up to his feet.

“Well, seeing as I just breathed out smoke, I’m pretty sure that, yes, I am warm,” he said. “Now, you eat yours.”

Hermione looked at him, then, feeling strangely reckless, put the Pepper Imp into her mouth and waited. Grey smoke started pouring from her ears straight away. A warm feeling was spreading through her, warming her frozen fingers and toes.

She looked up to find Ron staring at her.

“You look like a bush that someone set on fire,” he said.

“It’s the ugly hair, isn’t it?” she said, making rings of smoke from her mouth.

“You hair isn’t ugly,” Ron said. “Just wild. Wild is nice.”

“Oh,” Hermione said, taken aback. “Thanks.”

“You’re – you’re welcome?” he said.

Just then, Fred and George passed them, laden with shopping bags filled with Zonko’s stuff.

“Hey guys,” said Fred – no, wait, it was George.

“Hello,” said Ron.

“Where’s Harry?” Fred – the real Fred – asked, looking around as though Harry would jump out at them from a shop.

“He’s at the castle,” Ron said. “His horrible aunt and uncle didn’t sign his form.”

Fred and George looked at each other. A smile formed on both their faces.

“What?” Ron asked. “What is it?”

They said nothing.

“What is it?” he demanded.

“Nothing, nothing,” said George. “I was just wondering whether he’d be able to sneak out…”

“Sneak out?” Ron asked. “How’s he meant to do that?”

Fred smirked. “Say he had a map…”

“How would a map help him?” Ron asked.

Again they ignored him, and saw Hermione, who was still breathing out rings of smoke.

“Woah, who set you on fire?” Fred asked her.

“Pepper Imp,” she mumbled though another stream of steam.

“What?” asked Fred.

“Pepper Imp,” said Ron. “And what did you mean by a map?”

“Ah, Pepper Imps!” George said, ignoring Ron’s other question. “The ultimate way to breath out smoke.”

“Well, there aren’t many other options,” said Fred. “Unless you actually set yourself on fire.”

“But that wouldn’t work,” said George. “You’d have to eat the fire.”

“You find a way to do that then, genius.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” George said.

“Is there anything you don’t take as a yes?” Fred asked.

“Nope,” he said.

“That’s the spirit,” said Fred. “One extreme or the other.”

He winked at Ron as he said it, then the twins set off down the street, chuckling.

“What did he mean, one extreme or the other? And why did he wink at you?” Hermione asked, the steam having finally died out. “And you were right, I feel way warmer now.”

“Never mind that, what were they talking about when they said something about a map, and sneaking out?” Ron said, still staring after them.

“I don’t know,” said Hermione slowly. “But Harry can’t sneak out, not when Sirius Black is out to get him!”

“Didn’t we talk about this earlier?” said Ron, exasperated. “There’s no way Sirius Black will spot Harry here.”

“Well, we’re alone on this street right now,” Hermione pointed out. Students had started going back to the castle, or else taking refuge in the warm shops now that the night was falling.

“That’s true,” said Ron, looking around. He remembered Black’s mad, gaunt face and shivered. “Maybe we should go inside now.”

“Back to the castle?”

“Well, it’s not time for the feast yet, we can still go to the Three Broomsticks before we go back,” Ron said.

Hermion’s face lit up. “Sure! Maybe we can warm up without breathing smoke.”

“But it was fun, wasn’t it?” said Ron, grinning. They both set out down the road to the Three Broomsticks.

“It was,” Hermione admitted as they reached the Three Broomsticks. Ron pushed open the door for Hermione and they both entered. A wave of warmth and noise crashed over them.

“Ah, this is nice,” said Ron.

“Yes, it’s nice and warm in here,” Hermione said.

“Have you tried Butterbeer before?” Ron asked. “Wait, that’s a stupid question, of course you haven’t. Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” said Hermione, looking around. “I want to try it.”

“I’ll buy some for you,” Ron offered, pulling out his money bag.

“Are you sure? I can pay for mine,” Hermione said. Ron looked inside his money back. It was much lighter after Honeydukes.

“Alright, then,” he said. There was no way he’d ever have enough money to pay for both of them.

“Thanks for offering though,” said Hermione awkwardly, not wanting him to feel bad.

“You’re welcome?” he said as they went up to the bar.

“What can I get you two?” Rosmerta, the woman at the bar asked them.

“Um, t-two Butterbeers, please,” Ron said, the tips of his ears turning pink. For some reason, this annoyed Hermione, who handed Ron the money for hers and went off to find them a table.

A few minutes later, Ron came over to their table, holding two tall glasses of Butterbeer.

“Here you go,” he said, placing hers in front of her.

“Thanks,” she said, picking it up.

“Cheers?” Ron asked, holding his out.

“Cheers,” Hermione said, clinking her glass against his.

They both took a long sip. A ripple of warmth spread through her, sending waves of warmth to her fingers and toes. Hermione gasped.

“This is amazing!” she said.

“I know, right?” Ron said, taking another sip.

They chatted idly as they drank their Butterbeers, looking out the window at the darkening night.

“Wait, is that… an ogre?” Ron whispered. Hermione followed his gaze to a table in the corner where a hulking creature was sitting, head bumping the ceiling as it took occasional sips from a large glass of fizzing amber liquid.

“Wow,” said Hermione. “You really do get all types in the Three Broomsticks.”

They finished the Butterbeers and left, walking down to the school.

As they exited the village, Ron opened a pack of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans.

“Can I have some?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Ron said, holding out the packet. Hermione reached inside and picked out a random one. It was a bright orange colour.

“What flavour is this?” she asked, looking at it nervously.

“Dunno. You can never tell until you eat it. Fred reckons he had a bogey-flavoured one once,” said Ron.

“Eugh,” said Hermione. “That’s not really helping, Ron.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, picking a green coloured bean out from the bag. “So, are you going first, or should I?”

“I can go first,” Hermione said. She looked at her bean again and swallowed. “I can do this.”

She put it into her mouth.

“Well,” Ron asked anxiously. “What flavour?”

Hermione grinned. “Orange! I think I got lucky.”

“Orange! Phew, I was worried,” Ron said. “Some people get rather put off by the bad flavours.”

“I don’t blame them, though. You try yours.”

Ron put his into his mouth and grimaced. “Grass.”

“Grass?!” Hermione asked.

“Yeah, don’t be surprised. Grass might be the least weird of all the weird flavours. It’s not even that bad, actually. You ever eaten grass?” he asked.

“What? No!” Hermione said. “Who eats grass?”

“Everyone does. It’s like a ritual of childhood, eating grass,” Ron said wisely.

“Really?” Hermione said, laughing. “No way.”

“Yes way,” Ron said as he reached into the packet for another bean – a bright yellow one. “Want one?”

“Should I be testing my luck?” she asked, eying the bag uncertainly.

“Well, there are some people who get all the good flavours, and some who get all the bad flavours. Like Percy, for instance. Though that might be because Fred and George managed to get their hands on the packet before,” Ron said.

“Well… oh, alright, then,” Hermione said. She put her hand in and picked out a red one.

“Now or never,” Ron said. They both put the beans into their mouths and chewed. The effect was immediate.

Hermione gagged and pulled a disgusted face, while Ron started panicking and searching through his bag frantically.

“What is it, Ron?” Hermione asked.

“Mustard,” Ron gasped as he pulled out his water bottle. “Spicy.”

“Oh god,” Hermione said. “Drink some water!”

Ron held up his bottle, which was, unfortunately, empty. “Empty,” he rasped.

“Take some of mine!” Hermione pushed her bottle into Ron’s hands. Ron shook his head.

“Bad… hygiene…” he gasped, his face turning red.

“Oh my god, you’re right,” Hermione said. She uncapped both bottles with shaking hands and poured some of her water into Ron’s bottle. “Here, take yours.” She pushed it into his hands. Ron took it gratefully and took a large gulp of water.

“Oh my goodness,” he sighed. “That’s better. You’re a lifesaver, Hermione.”

“Thanks. But are you okay?” she asked, peering at him.

“Yeah – yeah, I’m good,” he said, taking another long sip of water. “I told you they were every flavour.”

“Yes, I can see that,” she said.

“What flavour did you get?” Ron asked.

“Tomato.”

And suddenly, both of them were laughing, cheeks flushed from the cold air, giddy from the Butterbeer and excitement and all of the sugar. They laughed and laughed until it hurt to laugh, but even then, they just started laughing again.

Finally, they pulled themselves together. They’d reached the castle, and Filch was at the doors, probing them with his questions and snarling at them about how they were insufferable little menaces, but that didn’t stop them from grinning like crazy.

As they were standing outside the common room, Ron said, “That was really fun. We should do it more often.”

“We should,” Hermione agreed. “I haven’t had that much fun in ages!”

Then they climbed in through the portrait hole, back into the common room, still pink-cheeked and grinning from all the excitement of the evening.