BETWEEN REVENGE AND LOVE

17

Sunday, 16/09/1995

Late summer sun bathes Hogsmeade in golden light, casting long shadows over the cobblestone streets. A gentle breeze blows through the village, carrying with it the familiar scent of pine trees and blooming heather. Theo walks by my side, steps slow and easy, the warmth of the day making everything feel languid and peaceful.

The Three Broomsticks looms ahead, its wooden sign creaking in the wind, lazily.

"Do you think it'll be crowded?" Iglance up at him. We haven't talked much on our way here. I wonder if that'll change once we're inside.

"It's Hogsmeade on a Sunday," he shrugs, "Probably, but we'll find a spot. Even if we have to shove a couple Gryffindors out of the way."

We laugh as we step inside, the door letting out a soft chime as it swings open. The pub is buzzing with low chatter, the clinking of mugs, and the warm glow of lanterns hanging from the ceiling. It's cosy here, familiar. The smell of butterbeer - sweet and spiced - wraps around us like a comforting blanket, as he leads the way to a small round table near the window.

"Two butterbeers, please," Theo says to Madame Rosmerta as she passes by. With a quick nod she disappears behind the bar.

It's not my first time at The Three Broomsticks, and not my first time spending time with Theo either. But this time it's different. This time we're not in a group. There's this unspoken anticipation between us.

"I don't think I've ever seen it this quiet. It's kind of nice." THeo rips me out of my thoughts.

"Almost like we have the place to ourselves," I agree, fingers fiddling with the edge of the table, tracing the woodgrain absentmindedly.

A few moments later, Madam Rosmerta returns with two tall, frothy mugs of butterbeer, setting them down on the table with a friendly smile. "Enjoy, dears."

I wrap my hands around the mug, the warmth seeping into my palms. The butterbeers sweet, rich aroma fills my senses, and for a moment, the tension of the situation eases. I take a slow sip, the creamy foam brushing my lips before the liquid itself. A burst of warmth and spice makes me sigh contentedly.

Theo watches me, his own mug raised halfway to his lips. "Good?"

"Perfect," I smile, taking another sip. "I always forget how much I love this stuff."

He chuckles softly. "Me too."

We still don't talk much, but surprisingly I don't mind at all. Together we sit in comfortable silence, the taste of butterbeer on our tongues, watching the world outside the window. The sunlight grew softer, tinged with orange as it dipped lower, casting the streets in a dreamy glow. But I can't help glancing at him from time to time. My heart does an odd little flip whenever he catches me doing so.

"Tell me something about you," he requests. "Anything."

"Well, I guess there's not much." I analyse his face - his soft lips, his kind eyes. "I don't have any real hobbies I suppose, I love to read, though. My friends I love too, of course. My favourite colour is green. I have a sister."

"Your sister, Pansy, right?" He follows up. "I never see you two together."

"Long story." I take another sip. "Let's just say we really don't get along well."

"I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, Pen, I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay. Now you. Tell me something I don't know."

"Sure," he smiles, reassuringly. "Besides Quidditch I too don't really have any hobbies. Never did. But Quidditch can be quite time consuming at times, being on the team keeps me quite occupied. Don't have any siblings and not the best relationship with my parents. Nothing crazy, though."

He finishes his butterbeer. His hand remains on the table, almost as if reaching for mine.

"I also really like spending time with you," he winks.

Outside, the sun finally dipped below the horizon, and the soft glow of lanterns from the street illuminates the crooked houses all around. The pub also grew quieter.

"I'm serious, Pen. I'm really enjoying this. I don't want you to feel like you have to figure it all out right now. It's okay to take your time."

My eyes wander across the table. His hand is still there, waiting. I let my fingers run along the back of his hand, then he takes it.