“How do you not know?”
“We’re doing something, but whether it’s a date or not is still up for grabs.”
“Oh.” Hermione seemed to think about that for a minute. “Well then I wish you luck on whatever it turns out to be.”
Harry grinned. “Hopefully I won’t need it, right?”
That Saturday dawned warmer than it had all winter and glaringly bright. The feeling was almost infectious as students throughout Hogwarts dressed warmly for a day roaming the streets of Hogsmeade. Harry, guessing that Ron would be bouncing off the walls in nervous tension, left for Gryffindor Tower before breakfast, leaving Draco in the shower.
Harry was right, Ron was a mess. The other boys had long since stopped trying to calm Ron down. The redhead practically attacked Harry when he came into the dorm.
“Harry! What am I going to do! Or wear! And what if I act like a jerk and—”
Harry shared a suffering look with the other boys who were very glad not to be in Harry’s shoes right now.
Draco was thinking much along the same lines as Ron, but in a more dignified manner. And the only one around to hear his mutterings was a mirror. She had watched unimpressed as Draco had taken most, if not all, of the clothes out of his closet and strewn them around the room. And then watched as he proceeded to pace between the piles that had formed, discarding item after item for being “not good enough”.
“Why don’t you close your eyes, pick a shirt, and then find trousers to match?” The mirror asked irritated.
Draco fixed her with a glare that translated to “what could a mirror know?”.
“Hun, I’ve been here for years. I’ve been in every dorm possible and I’ve seen this mess over and over. Believe me, everyone eventually gets to that point. So why don’t you save yourself a whole lot of trouble, pacing, and wearing yourself out in worry?”
Draco didn’t comment, but sneered at the mirror…and then picked up the nearest shirt.
Breakfast was already underway when Draco was finally pleased with how he looked and donned the traditional Slytherin robes over his outfit. Perfect.
“You look lovely darling. Now wasn’t that easier?” The mirror asked. Draco shot another glare at the mirror and left, muttering about reflective glass that knew too much.
Hogsmeade was always bustling with people, and the left-over cold from the height of winter did nothing to deter them. So it was with a little difficulty that Harry made his way through the crowded room of Three Broomsticks to the back where the private booths were. Madam Rosmerta had smiled warmly at him and waved him towards the booth that was tucked in the most out of the way corner of them all with a, “He’s waiting for you.”
The booths themselves were something of a stroke of genius to Harry. They were placed around the outskirts of the room with concealing, silence, notice-me-not, and privacy charms on them that were keyed to the people that wanted to use them. Regular customers wouldn’t even know they were there and so it was perfect for his and Draco’s…whatever-it-was.
Draco had already ordered two butterbeers and was lounging quite comfortably on his chair, looking out at the patrons who couldn’t see him watching them. Harry noticed that he seemed interested in one table in particular as he slid into the seat opposite Draco.
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