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I almost tripped over my feet as George pulled me through Zonko's Joke shop, pointing at every single item as we whisked by. He was in a frenzy to show me every amazing part of Hogsmeade, and Zonko's was his and Fred's favorite spot. They used to get all their prank supplies here, but now they could invent their own.
Later in the evening, we would be meeting a group of students recruited by Hermione to start a Defense Against the Dark Arts club Harry was teaching. But for now, George had split us from our friends and was walking me to The Three Broomsticks. This place seemed to be the most popular of the shops along with Honeydukes, which George had promised we go to after a butterbeer.
When the door opened and the scent of caramelized sugar and antique wood hit me, I felt the warmness spread through me, which George had mentioned was one of the things he loved about The Three Broomsticks. George grabbed my hand and led me over to a corner where only groups of two or three sat. We sat down, and I examined the place with interest.
"Have you ever had a butterbeer before?" George asked, and I diverted my eyes from the bar where a few lonely professors sat. I didn't take any of their classes.
"No. Is it good? Is that what you're getting?"
"Of course. It's the best thing here," he said.
"Then I guess that's what I'll be having as well," I added, and he smiled in glee. He stood up, going to order our drinks, and came back ten minutes later.
"Crazy this place is," he muttered under his breath as he handed me my butterbeer. It didn't look too visually pleased and rather dull. The most decoration was a serving of foam on top. He was quick to take a drink of his, then looked eagerly at me.
"What does it taste like?" I asked, clutching my glass.
"You'll know when you try it," he edged on, his grin widening.
I slowly lifted the drink to my lips, never breaking my eye contact with George as I took a sip. I set the glass down, and an explosion of flavors soothed every taste bud. It was warm and tasted of butterscotch and other calming sweets. It was extremely sweet, but it was something I could handle and enjoy.
George waited for my response, and once I smiled a touch, he chuckled. "You like it?"
I hummed, bringing it back and taking another gulp. It flowed down my throat, and I sighed wistfully.
"We have now completed the most important part of this trip," he joked, and I giggled. We downed our butterbeer, and by the end, my stomach was filled with butterflies, and I was much more relaxed.
George could not take his soft expression from his face as he made small talk until he stopped our conversation about an upcoming sweet for the twin's Skiving Snackboxes. His face slowly began dropping and became serious as he tangled our hands across the table. For a moment, he stared at me, blinking only a few times as his eyes skimmed across my face, which was slightly covered by my hair. He reached over, brushing his hand along my cheek, and tucked the right side of my hair behind my ear.
