The air in Hogsmeade was crisp and smelled faintly of butterbeer and chimney smoke, the snow clinging stubbornly to the cobblestones despite the warmth of the late afternoon sun. You and Hermione walked side by side, scarves bundled tight around your necks, your mittens brushing every now and then as you made your way down the busy high street.

Hermione was radiant in the wintry light, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold, curls bouncing around her shoulders as she tugged you toward Honeydukes with surprising determination. “Come on,” she said with a little grin, “you have to try the sugar quills. They’re meant for writing, but honestly they taste much better than they work.”

Inside, the shop was bustling with students. Shelves were stacked with fizzing whizbees and rows of chocolate frogs, and Hermione kept sneaking glances at you, her smile softening each time your eyes lit up at something new. She plucked a small bag of peppermint toads from a shelf and handed it to you, her fingers brushing yours deliberately this time. “These will keep you warm on the walk back,” she murmured, as though it were a secret only meant for the two of you.

Later, at the Three Broomsticks, the two of you sat tucked into a corner booth. Madam Rosmerta brought over two steaming tankards of butterbeer, the foam catching on your upper lip in a way that made Hermione giggle quietly, covering her mouth with her mittened hand. When you raised an eyebrow at her, she leaned across the table, dabbing the foam away with her thumb. “Hopeless,” she teased, but her voice was soft, fond.

As the chatter of the pub swelled around you, Hermione leaned closer, her shoulder pressed against yours, her curls tickling your cheek.

“You know,” she said, her brown eyes glimmering with warmth, “I can’t remember the last time I felt this… happy. Just—this.” She gestured to the mugs, the fire crackling nearby, the snow outside. “It feels like something out of a story.”

You smiled, your hand finding hers beneath the table, her fingers immediately curling around yours. Hermione didn’t let go the entire walk back, her laughter floating up into the crisp evening air every time she slipped a little on the icy cobblestones, though she always insisted she had perfect balance.