The Hollow Beneath Hogwarts

13. Give A Little Bit

It was safe to say that travelling by Floo Powder was firmly listed among Sloane's least favourite experiences in existence.

Actually, scratch that. She hated it. Completely.

There was absolutely nothing enjoyable about being violently yanked through a network of fireplaces while spinning so quickly your organs practically rearranged themselves. Every single journey left her feeling dizzy, overheated and vaguely convinced she was moments away from vomiting into somebody's ornamental umbrella stand.

Unfortunately, it was also one of the fastest ways to travel. And since Sloane still wasn't particularly confident with Apparition yet, Floo Powder remained the lesser evil.

Barely.

The second she stepped into Kingsley's fireplace and threw the powder down, the familiar twisting sensation immediately consumed her. Green flames erupted around her and suddenly she was spinning violently through a blur of fireplaces, voices and flashes of colour.

Sloane squeezed her eyes shut halfway through the journey. Never again. Absolutely never again.

A few moments later she stumbled gracelessly out of the fireplace inside the Leaky Cauldron, coughing lightly as ash puffed around her shoes.

"Oh my stars," she muttered under her breath, steadying herself against the mantle. "I hate Britain."

Quickly regaining her composure, Sloane flicked her wand through the air and brushed the soot and ash from her clothes, hair and face with practiced ease. The last thing she needed was to look like she'd crawled out of a chimney.

The Leaky Cauldron itself was already fairly busy despite the early hour. Witches and wizards sat scattered around wooden tables nursing cups of tea or coffee while owls hooted softly overhead from perches near the windows. The old pub smelled faintly of smoke, buttered toast and polished wood.

Sloane had barely finished fixing her cardigan when she heard someone call her name from across the room.

"Sloane!"

Turning quickly, she spotted Hermione waving from one of the tables near the back of the pub while Harry sat beside her looking thoroughly amused by something she had apparently just said.

Warmth immediately bloomed in Sloane's chest. They waited for her. That shouldn't have mattered as much as it did.

But it did.

A smile spread across her face as she made her way toward them, her skirt swaying around her ankles as she walked.

Hermione, meanwhile, felt an immediate stab of envy the second Sloane approached the table properly.

Not because Sloane was trying too hard. Quite the opposite. She looked effortlessly pretty. The flowing skirt, the soft cardigan, the delicate jewellery around her neck and the perfectly styled hair all made Hermione suddenly very aware of the fact she was currently wearing old jeans and a plain fitted t-shirt she'd grabbed without much thought that morning.

Hermione had spent the last twenty minutes feeling reasonably confident too. Now suddenly she felt underdressed. Frizzy. Ordinary. It was ridiculous really, but the insecurity still crept up on her anyway.

"Hey guys," Sloane smiled brightly as she slipped onto the bench opposite them, setting her bag down beside her.

"Morning," Harry greeted warmly.

Hermione lifted a small shy wave.

Before she could say anything else however, Sloane's face lit up completely. "Hermione, you look gorgeous!"