Winter (Draco x Reader)

Chapter 28- Puddifoot's and Payback

The first snow of the season crunched under my boots in the main street of Hogsmeade, a coalition of colorful, topsy-turvy shops and peals of laughter from hurriedly slammed doors. The bundled up silhouette of a harried-looking wizard cut across us from the entrance of the Hog's Head, radiating a shadow of warmth and the smell of Firewhiskey with him. Hermione dodged him nimbly, tucking her arm into mine. Her neck craned back to take in the cheerful, mismatched sights with interest.

She exhaled in a large billow of vapor. "Are you quite sure about this? We can always head to Zonko's instead, you know. Ron is waiting for me there."

I shrugged, sidestepping a group of fourth-year Ravenclaws that had exited Honeyduke's, bouquet of sugar quills in hand. "I'm just keeping my word... The note did exist, after all."

"How do you know he's not lying about you agreeing?" she asked shrewdly, as we rounded the corner.

A very familiar trio was standing in the middle of the cobble-stoned street. Crabbe and Goyle flanked Draco's much smaller silhouette, the three of them trying their best to look unfazed by the cold weather. Goyle discreetly blew into his gloved hands, rubbing them together as he shared a knowing look with Crabbe, who elbowed Draco strongly. He yelped, glaring, until he jerked his jaw in our direction and the platinum blonde straightened. Hermione arched a brow, watching as he ran a hand over his slicked back hair. He lifted a hesitant hand, giving a small wave, and I was transported back to the previous year -- Draco's watercolor set, his constant blush, the determined look on his face when it came to opening the Chamber of Secrets...

"I don't think he is," I said as he approached. "Anyway, it's not that serious. It's just that a promise is a promise."

Draco cleared his throat lightly, coming to a stop before us. He'd clearly put effort into his appearance, emerald and silver scarf draped proudly over his shoulders and the thick fabric of a woolen cloak skimming the ground.

Hermione removed her arm from mine. "My common room, tonight?"

I grinned. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

As she made her way towards the bright red window of Zonko's Joke Shop, I turned to Draco.

"So," I said blandly.

His eyes narrowed. "You shouldn't act so pleased to be here, L/N, it's overwhelming."

I giggled. "Well, it is the coldest day of the year. What did you have in mind?"

He turned pink, his chin held up proudly. "Half these shops are ridiculous. Come along, we're going somewhere more worthwhile."

He set off at a fast pace, his cloak flaring out behind him, and I had to jog to keep up. Unusually, he did nothing to further the conversation, content to remain in dead silence. I eyed the side of his face quizzically, but he continued to stare straight ahead, grey eyes steely. When I spotted the unmistakable, looming frills of the forefront of Madam Puddifoot's tea shop, it all made sense. I lurched to a stop, and he crossed his arms.

"Draco, you cannot be serious," I complained.

The windows were fogged up, a cheery plume of smoke rising from the equally frilly chimney, the peppy songs of Blythe Bardot seeping under the lilac door.

He blushed harder, a haughty expression infusing his features. "You said you would accompany me. I happen to want to come here."

Unable to muster up a suitable comeback -- he was technically correct -- I trudged after him, at odds with the cheerful trill of the welcome bell. He'd gone the extra mile to reserve a table, and correctly so, since the quaint shop was packed. With an accent wall covered entirely in vivid flower prints and towering afternoon tea sets, it was a vision in pink, sparse pastel accents coming to break up the color scheme. We were shown to a tiny spot near the window, half-obscured by the ruffled lace curtain, and my knees almost banged on the edge of the Victorian style table. I held up the cat shaped saucer appraisingly; across from me, Draco squirmed in his seat.