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HP419- Heartbreak and Lemonade
🕑 Added 2025-05-01 00:47:26 +0000 UTCBy the time October hit, the castle had fully shifted into autumn mode. Enchanted leaves drifted lazily through the corridors, more decorative than functional. The fireplaces were active again, and the kitchens pumped out enough cinnamon to choke a Kneazle.
Then came October 5th—first Hogsmeade weekend. Students were already buzzing before breakfast, plans bouncing between tables like a Quodpot ball in a broom cupboard.
It was also Astoria’s first Hogsmeade trip. That fact alone made her bounce from bench to bench while everyone else tried to eat in peace. When they finally left the castle, she was practically glued to Harry’s side, her steps quick and uneven, like she couldn’t decide whether to walk or jog to the gates.
“And then we stop by the teashop, obviously,” she said, counting on her fingers, “but only if we finish the Honeydukes run first. Oh, and the bookshop—we’re not skipping it this time—”
Harry glanced down at her. “You’ve said this how many times now?”
“Ten,” Daphne muttered, trailing behind them with Tracey.
Astoria waved her off. “It’s important to plan properly.”
“You’ve been planning since breakfast yesterday,” Harry said. “You’ve memorized the map. You made Fred and George quiz you.”
Astoria grinned. “Which is exactly why I won’t get lost.”
“You had a backup plan for that too,” Tracey said, sipping her hot cocoa like she hadn’t heard it all already.
“I drew a second map,” Astoria confirmed. “In case the shops moved.”
“They’re buildings,” Daphne said, finally cutting in with a sigh. “They don’t move.”
Astoria pouted. “It’s not the same. You’ve all been here before.”
Harry snorted. “You’re acting like this is the first sky you’ve seen.”
“It’s my first Hogsmeade sky,” she shot back, as if that explained everything.
"You’ve been into the village countless times. Why are you acting like it’s your first time there?" Daphne sighed, clearly running low on patience. "It’s a village, Astoria. Not a portal to another dimension."
Astoria pouted at both of them, arms crossed. "It’s not the same. It’s Hogsmeade weekend. Actual leave from school. It’s different."
Tracey smirked, nudging Daphne lightly with her elbow. "She’s got a point. First time’s a big deal."
"See!" Astoria declared, bouncing a little as they made their way toward the gates. "Even Tracey agrees."
"Don’t get used to it," Tracey said, pretending to stretch. "It’s a rare thing."
Ahead, Fred and George led the pack, occasionally tossing small enchanted paper planes over passing students’ heads. Behind them, Susan and Hannah chatted about which shops had the best pastries, and Neville was trying to explain something about magical hiking boots to a slightly distracted Luna.
The air was crisp, but the sun kept it from feeling too cold. Classic October, the kind where you could smell pumpkin in the breeze even if there wasn’t any around yet.
They made it past the gates with no drama. The teachers manning the checkpoint barely glanced at them once the permission slips flashed.
As they walked, Daphne fell in step beside Harry. "We’re starting at Honeydukes, right?"
"That is the plan," he said. "Astoria would riot otherwise."
Astoria flashed a victorious grin, like she’d just been crowned Queen of the First Years. "We are getting ice mice and chocolate frogs and pepper imps. And no one’s stopping me."
"Nobody’s brave enough to," Ginny muttered from the back, earning a snort from Pansy.
Zonko’s was bustling when they passed it. A group of third-years were crowded around the window, pointing at some new line of joke quills that supposedly wrote essays for you but ended up cursing half the parchment.
Fred slowed as he spotted the display. "Research purposes," he said, already elbowing George.
"Necessary," George agreed.
"You two have a problem," Hermione said without looking up from her list.
"Thank you for noticing," Fred said brightly.
Tracey grabbed Harry’s sleeve as they passed the Three Broomsticks. "Drinks after shopping?"
"Obviously," Harry said. "Priorities."
Susan ducked between them, laughing. "If we survive Honeydukes."
They hit Honeydukes like a small tornado. Astoria immediately made a beeline for the chocolate section, practically vibrating with excitement. Susan and Hannah went for the baked goods. Harry hung back, watching the chaos unfold.
"She’s going to spend every knut she brought," Daphne said, coming up beside him, holding a small bag of sugar quills.
"Let her," Harry said, shrugging. "It’s tradition."
Tracey tossed a packet of fizzing whizzbees into his hand. "Catch."
Harry caught it without missing a beat and dropped it into the basket he hadn’t even realized he was carrying. "You're just making me your pack mule."
"Smart boy," Tracey said, grinning.
Harry caught the next round of candies and sighed. “Next time I’m making you all wear baskets.”
Astoria perked up. “Like fashion baskets?”
“No,” Harry said. “Like donkey saddlebags.”
Tracey pretended to consider. “Depends. Can I bedazzle mine?”
Daphne groaned. “I hate that I know you mean that.”
They weaved through shelves and students, tossing things into baskets, arguing over the merits of acid pops versus tooth-flossing string mints. Fred and George nearly got kicked out for "sampling" the merchandise, but managed to talk their way out of it with promises to buy triple the stock.
At the counter, Astoria unloaded enough sweets to stock a small army. Harry didn’t comment—just handed over a few galleons to cover whatever she couldn’t manage. She noticed but didn’t say anything, just stuck close to his side as they left the shop.
They headed toward the bookshop next. Hermione looked like she was going to faint from excitement. Neville got dragged along too, though he kept muttering about needing to check the greenhouse supply section.
Tracey kept pace beside Harry. "Next stop?"
"Teashop," Harry said, nodding toward the building Astoria had practically marked as a personal quest.
Pansy gave a theatrical groan. "Fantastic. Sugar and gossip."
"That’s the whole point," Daphne said dryly.
The teashop was crowded but manageable. They squeezed into two small tables pushed together. Cups of tea and plates of biscuits appeared within minutes, the teashop charms having seen their kind before and knowing better than to wait for manners.
Astoria looked downright gleeful as she dunked a biscuit into her tea with excessive ceremony.
Across the table, Blaise smirked. "You going to frame that and hang it up, or actually eat it?"
"Let her enjoy it," Harry said, stealing a biscuit off Tracey’s plate before she could slap his hand away.
Ginny leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms. "I missed this."
"Missed what?" Daphne asked.
"This," Ginny said, waving a hand. "Being out. Being normal. Hogwarts doesn’t feel real half the time."
Conversation drifted, easy and scattered. Talk of upcoming matches, bets about who’d get detention first, theories about whether Snape would finally crack and hex the Gryffindor table during breakfast.
When they finally left the teashop, the afternoon was wearing thin, but none of them seemed in a rush to get back to the castle.
They wandered the village, stopping here and there. Astoria dragged Daphne into a shop selling ridiculous hats. Luna bought a quill that kept changing colors. Ginny bought some enchanted socks that promised to keep your feet dry even if you walked across a river.
“Supposedly they keep your feet dry no matter what,” Ginny said.
“Even in heartbreak?” Daphne asked.
“Only if it’s a puddle of tears,” Tracey added.
Luna nodded. “Or lemonade.”
Harry blinked. “How would you even get into a puddle of lemonade—”
“Imagination, Harry,” Luna said, gently disappointed.
When they rejoined the others, the sun was lower, the sky starting to shift into the deep blues and purples of evening.
Tracey jogged up to Harry’s side, bumping him with her shoulder. "Not a bad first weekend back."
"Could’ve been worse," Harry agreed, shifting his bag of Honeydukes loot to the other hand.
Astoria skipped ahead, spinning once in the fading light. "Best day ever."
"High bar," Daphne muttered.
"Highest," Astoria said without missing a beat.
Tracey glanced at Fred and George ahead. “If they start singing again, I’m hexing someone.”
George turned around, grinning. “Singing is an art form.”
“So is silence,” Daphne muttered. “Practice that instead.”
They turned toward the path leading back to Hogwarts, the castle visible in the distance, lit up against the twilight.
