Purple Rain.

Chapter Thirty-Two.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat in the small, dingy, dirty room that smelled strongly of goats and was known as Hog's Head. The windows were so encrusted with grime that very little daylight could permeate the room, which was lit instead with the stubs of candles sitting on rough wooden tables. The floor seemed at first glance to be earthy but was soon realized to be stone beneath centuries of filth. There were only four other people inside: the barman, two figures talking strongly in Yorkshire accents, and a witch with a thick, black veil that fell to her knees. 

It had been just them for a few minutes before a crowd of people rushed in. First came Neville with Dean and Lavender, who were closely followed by Parvati and Padma with Cho and one of her usually giggling girlfriends, then (on her own and looking so dream that she might have walked in by accident) Luna Lovegood; then Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and Angelina Johnson, Colin and Dennis Creevey, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, and a Hufflepuff girl with a long plait down her back whose name Harry did not know; three Ravenclaw boys he was pretty sure were called Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner, and Terry Boot; Ginny, followed by a tall skinny blond boy with an upturned nose whom Harry vaguely recognized as being a member of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, Cedric Diggory entered with a desi boy at his side, and bringing up the rear, Fred and George with Lee, all three of whom were carrying large paper bags crammed with Zonko's merchandise.

"A couple of people?" said Harry hoarsely to Hermione. "A couple of people?"

"Yes, well, the idea seemed quite popular," said Hermione happily. "Ron, do you want to pull up some more chairs?"
The barman had frozen in the act of wiping out a glass with a rag so filthy it looked as though it had never been washed. Possibly he had never seen his pub so full. The door opened again and nearly every pair of eyes fell to it again. Four Slytherins strolled inside, looking unbothered by the off-put looks they were receiving.

"What are they doing here?" Ron hissed.

"I dunno," Hermione murmured. "We'll wait for (Y/n), I suppose."

"What's taking her so long?" Ron huffed. "She was supposed to come here with us, wasn't she?"

"Just wait."

"Hi," said Fred, reaching the bar and counting his companions quickly. "Can we have... twenty-seven butterbeers, please?"
The barman glared at him for a moment, then, throwing down his rag irritably as though he had been interrupted in something very important, he started passing up dusty butterbeers from under the bar.
"Cheers," said Fred, passing them out. "Cough up, everyone, I haven't got enough gold for all of these..."

"Where are you going dressed like that?" a voice scoffed, making (Y/n) stop in her tracks. Feigning obliviousness, she slipped off her headphones and turned to face the group of girls.

"Were you talking to me?" (Y/n) asked, opting to give the girls the chance to back off.

"Yes," said the girl whom (Y/n) believed to be the leader.

"Oh? What about?"

"I'm asking where you're going dressed in that tiny thing," the girl said. (Y/n) rose her eyebrows. While (Y/n) most definitely was underdressed for the weather she wasn't exactly parading herself around. She just wanted to shop and get to Hog's Head. She looked down at her outfit of a white lacy cami beneath an olive green cardigan that was paired with a plaid skirt. She had black gogo boots and white leg warms and even then, her jacket was draped over her arm, for she had gotten hot in the store she just exited.

"I'm sorry?" (Y/n) said, wondering if the girls were seeing the same outfit she was. 

"Off to see one of your second options, I guess?"