Behind him, Ron was an inky shadow against the white snow, even his fiery hair darkened by the night.
He was looking off towards Hogsmeade.
'It's all right,' Draco said. 'I'll stay here.'
She looked at him, her dark eyes troubled. In her ears glittered the tiny starlike diamond earrings Harry had given her for her birthday in September. 'Are you sure? The cloak is at the foot of Harry's bed, and the password is…'
'I'm sure.'
She bit her lip. 'All right.'
'Happy Christmas, Hermione,' Draco said, and let her hands go. She backed away from him with a half- regretful smile, and the turned and walked down the stairs towards Harry. He caught her hand in his, waved a farewell to Draco, and then the three of them were gone, under the bright moonlight, disappearing into the burnished lane between the trees.
'Alas, my love, you do me wrong
To cast me off discourteously
For I have loved you for so long, Delighting in your company.'
'Well, I got them to sing,' said Harry, looking down at the clamoring set of green-stemmed wineglasses that sat on the table in Kelley and Ping's House of Enchanted Curiosities. 'Now how do I get them to shut up?'
Hermione giggled at his bemused expression. 'Oh, they sing
'Greensleeves',' she exclaimed, coming to stand beside him. 'Harry, that's a lovely present for Narcissa and Sirius.'
'Bit seasonal, isn't it?' Harry asked, putting an arm around her. She felt warm and contented — the shop smelled of cinnamon and apples, and outside the window she could see the fairytale town that was Hogsmeade, every shop window glowing with gold and silver tapers. Students in bright cloaks and dresses roamed up and down the icy streets, ducking into and out of warmly lit shops and taverns. She was with Harry, and Ron was over by the next table, close enough to touch, examining an enchanted mirror which he was considering getting for Ginny's birthday in early February. Everything was perfect — well, nearly everything.
'Greensleeves isn't a Christmas song,' Hermione said cheerfully. 'It's a love song.'
As if on cue, the enchanted glasses launched into a second verse.
'Now if you intend to show me disdain
Don't you know it all the more enraptures me, For even so I still remain
Your lover in captivity.'
Hermione tapped the nearest glass with her wand, and the music stopped.
'Just when I was starting to like it,' said Harry, with a slight tone of protest.
'It's a good present, Harry,' she said firmly. 'Get them.'
'Yes, do,' said Ron, looking up and grinning, 'I'm sick of shopping — I want to get over to the Winery and see what Fred and George have cooked up.'
Harry's eyes lit up. 'Oh, right — so do I.' He looked thoughtfully at the glasses, and shrugged. 'It'll get them — it's just too bad they don't play 'I May Be A Tiny Chimney Sweep…''
Having arranged for the glasses to be owled over to the Manor at the appropriate time, the trio headed for Fred and George's. The twins had really outdone themselves with their decorations for the factory. Illusion spells has transformed the huge main room into a jungle landscape, complete with jobberknolls, a fwooper, a jungle gnome and swinging jarveys. There were fountains of wine, lakes of chocolate, and dangling green vines that, on closer, inspection, turned out to be green-apple licorice. The leaves of the trees were spearmint leaves (and if, nibbled on, would turn the unwary muncher into a cricket for five minutes. The room was full of annoyed chirping.) Silver platters covered with sweets floated by at intervals — Hermione passed up a Snogberry Cordial on the theory that it was probably better to save the snogging for the end of the evening. Terry Boot and Padma Patil were taking turns bungee-jumping into a Bottomless Pit which had been rented for the occasion. Ron wanted to try it out, but Harry shook his head. 'Falling into a Bottomless Pit once is good enough for me,' he avowed.
The main attraction of the evening, to everyone's surprise, turned out to be Oliver Wood, on holiday leave from his starring position as Keeper for Puddlemere United. Oliver was one of the most celebrated young Quidditch players in the country, which didn't surprise anyone who had ever seen him play. It wasn't so much that he was talented — which he was
— but that he was grimly determined, and always had been.
Ron whistled at the sight of the huge crowd of giggling girls and starstruck boys gathered around Oliver, who was seated with Fred and George on a chair inside a floating pavilion draped with fiery curtains.
Jana and Angelina were both there as well, and to say that they seemed entirely unaffected by Oliver's presence would have been an exaggeration.
Both were blushing and smiling. George and Fred, who was eating an enormous color-changing lollipop, seemed bemused.
'Who would have thought Oliver would turn into such girl catnip?' said Ron, grinning as he picked a cup of hot buttered chocolate off a floating silver tray. 'Fred and George used to say the only girl who would ever have a chance with him would be one with really skinny legs and big ears
— that way she could convince him that she was the Quidditch World Cup.'
Harry cast a sideways glance at Hermione. 'Are you going to leave me for Oliver Wood, then?'
'No,' said Hermione, 'but I might leave you for that table of chocolate over there.' She arched up on her tiptoes and stared at the groaning tables of food and candy that stretched along the walls. There were white- chocolate snowballs, Snogberry Cordials, icicles spun out of clear sugar, and powdered-sugar Penguin Peppermints. Her stomach growled slightly.
'You ought to go say hello to Oliver, Harry — he was always so fond of you.'
'But there's a huge crowd around him — ' Harry began diffidently.
