The Serpent and the Lion [L.S]

Chapter 9

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"What do you think of Madam Puddifoots?"

The question brings Louis, on the verge of sleep in Hagrid's enormous chair, blinking to alertness. They'd come to the cottage after school to feed Teddy for Hagrid, who was off school grounds for business through the weekend; the rare appearance of the winter sun has nearly sunk below the hill, casting a gorgeous glow over the school grounds, with light pouring into the cottage like rivers of honey.

"Madam Puddifoots?" Louis yawns, stretching his arms over his head. By his feet, Teddy stretches, too. He leans his head on his fist. "What am I meant to think of it?"

Harry crouches by the stone fireplace, and stokes the fire, his back to Louis. "What kind of a question is that?"

Louis snorts. "What kind of a question is 'what do you think of Madam Puddifoots?'"

"Well, have you ever been?"

The picture of Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop is painfully clear in Louis's mind; in all of its bubble gum pink windows, cherubs and ribbons hanging from the ceiling glory, proudly sticking out like a sore thumb in comparison to the rest of the shops and restaurants in Hogsmeade. The teas and cakes all tasted fine enough, but Louis never thought they were quite worth watching all of the third and fourth years make out in the hidden shadows of the booths, as they often did; Louis himself wasn't innocent of that.

"I've been, yeah. A few times when I—" The words fizzle out of Louis's brain when he realizes where the rest of his thought is going.

Harry notices too, and turns over his shoulder. Louis is nervously biting on his lip.

"When you what?"

"When I went with Elowen," Louis says, determined to get through the words without being weighed down by his usual guilt. Harry nods his understanding.

"When you went with Elowen."

"Yeah."

Louis is anxious for a moment when Harry's brows pinch together in thought, but it melts away when Harry chuckles lightly.

"Why do you look so nervous?"

Louis heaves out a sigh. "Because I know it's probably weird for you to hear about before. I'm not sure how you feel about it."

"You don't have to pretend like I don't know what you were up to before we were together." Harry shoves the poker into the few bits of wood in the fireplace, turning over to the fresh sides and sending tiny orange sparks shooting into the air.

A soft, fond smile spreads across Louis's face at how seamlessly the word left Harry's lips. Together.

"I know that you know what I've been up to. That's not my point."

"So what is your point?"

Louis narrows his gaze in vexation, and leaves the warm confines of Hagrid's big comfy chair. Teddy lets out a troubled mewl by his feet as he does, clearly unhappy to have been disturbed. Louis tiptoes carefully around the Kneazle, and crosses the room to stand in front of Harry with his hands on his hips. He bends down, sweetly, and flicks Harry on the ear.

"Don't be a shithead."

"Ow."

"What is your point?" Louis asks. He plops on the ground next to Harry, wrapping his arms around his knees. "Why're you asking about Madam Puddifoot's, anyway?"

Harry shrugs noncommittally.

Louis nudges him with a socked foot. "Harry."

When Harry doesn't answer, Louis rolls his eyes, and reaches his hand up to flick Harry in the ear again—but Harry's much quicker this time, catching Louis by the forearm. He moves suddenly, and pushes Louis onto his back, flat against the crimson rug in front of the fireplace.