The crowd hollered around Ron as the ball hit the net, a gloved goalkeeper left sprawling in its wake.
"Get in!" Sirius lurched forward, shaking his fist to match the celebrations around him. He nearly dropped his hotdog in the process, adjusting his wrist at the last second to rebalance it. Remus celebrated more subduedly, clapping with his own hotdog perched on his knee. The chaperones had bought themselves and each of the students food at half time, a fifteen minute break in the middle of the game that Ron was still trying to grasp the purpose of.
"How much is that worth again?" Ron wondered.
"One point. That makes it Blackburn Rovers three, Queen's Park Rangers two," Remus said. "The home side have got a chance now."
Ron saw smiles on the faces of those in blue-and-white striped shirts around the crowd, who were by far the majority. In the time it took him to look around, Fay Dunbar swiped one of his chips, tossing it into her mouth before he could even complain.
"Thief," Ron mumbled.
"Just stay alert," said the brunette, smirking at him with her eyes on the field.
She didn't fool Ron. She'd scarfed her meal faster than he could finish his own, and her fingers were tense, ready to enact more crime. He shifted his food onto the other side of his lap, buying himself a buffer to help protect it.
"I don't get it. Why take the ball all the way over there?" Anthony Goldstein asked, watching the Blackburn players carry the ball to the circle in the middle of the field.
"If the ball stays in the box for too long, it blows up," Sirius said. "Big explosion, too. Can take off a toe if you're not careful."
"He's making that up," Justin Finch-Fletchley said. "I have a season ticket to Villa Park. The ball is only leather and air."
"Huh," Anthony said. If anything, he seemed disappointed to hear that. "What about that bloke who uses his hands? Why can't he just run the ball down to the other goal?"
"He can't leave that square while using his hands," Justin said.
"If he does, springs go off, and he gets catapulted back," Sirius explained.
"What actually happens is that the ref calls a foul, and the keeper gets a red card," Justin said, sparing a glare for Sirius, who uncaringly ate his hot dog. "If a player gets a red card, they're ejected from the match, and even suspended for the next one."
"Wait a minute, it's bad?" Ron asked.
"One of the worst things in the sport," Justin said.
Ron sat forward in outrage. "Then what's it red for? That's the best color!"
His anger made him let down his guard. Before he noticed, two more chips had been nabbed from the corner of his plate. He only had one left now.
"He's right, though," Fay said, chewing her stolen prize. "Nothing wrong with red."
O-O-O
Neville walked along the sidewalk. He had to move sideways out of the way of a family. A few steps later, he had to move again for a young couple. He'd passed at least two hundred people since his group Apparated into London. None of them looked at him twice.
Of course they didn't. Here, he was no one. Just a boy wearing a puffer jacket and jeans. He could scream at the top of his lungs that he was Neville Longbottom and receive nothing except confusion.
It was alien. Freeing. In a way, it was like he'd stepped out of a cage for the very first time.
Neville caught up with Susan, who was entranced by one of the many posters dotting the theatre's outside wall.
Coming up behind her, Neville saw a beautiful woman laughing at the camera, a man sweeping her up in his arms. Susan was staring as if the poster was a movie itself, rather than a stationary picture. Neville still wasn't used to these portraits that didn't move.
"Do you like that one?" he asked.
Susan jumped and managed to land facing him, moving adroitly in the air like a cat. Neville stifled a laugh. Her reactions were so sharp at the strangest times.
"I-I wasn't looking at one in particular!" she said. "What do you want to see?"
"We're looking around to choose movies. We're supposed to be finding one in particular," Neville reminded her.
"I suppose…"
Susan hurriedly walked away. Neville followed her, and a few seconds later, Hestia Jones waved them over. Michael Corner and Terry Boot were already standing beside the chaperone.
"Have you chosen?" Hestia asked.
"We'll see that one," Susan said, pointing to a poster with knights and swords on the front. Neville was confident she hadn't looked at it before, except for a glance that convinced her he would like it.
As much as he wanted to convince Susan to change her mind, he knew as well as anyone how tall a task that could be. Besides, Hestia was already approaching the cage holding an acne-marked teenager in a cinema uniform. The ticket window, Neville was sure he'd heard it called.
"That's the one we're going to see," Terry said. "Maybe we can grab four seats in a row."
Beside him, Michael didn't say anything, squinting at Neville and Susan. He turned suddenly to the side. "Miss Jones?"
Hestia looked back. She was counting Muggle money and managing the task, albeit at half the speed an ordinary person would've been able to.
Michael stepped closer and whispered something in her ear. He stepped back and re-joined the group a second later, while Hestia spoke to the worker and proudly held out the money. When the worker confirmed it was the right amount, she beamed.
The group of five passed through the heavy glass doors to the inside, Hestia flashing the tickets to earn them entrance.
From the threshold, Neville admired the lobby of the theater. It was more colorful than he imagined, with a black and white checkered floor paired with red walls. The air smelled like butter. The reason quickly became obvious— a massive machine holding thousands of little golden-white treats.
"They have popcorn, just like Professor Potter said!" Susan exclaimed, pointing.
"Except Muggles make it with a machine," Hestia said, raising one finger as she delivered her fun fact. "Don't let that fool you. Just like toast, Muggles can make these foods as well as we can, even if the process is different. Now, who wants some?"
Neville was fifty percent sure that Hestia only offered to cover their snacks so that she had an excuse to count out more money, proving once again that she knew the values. They were soon walking away with four bags of popcorn, one for each of them apart from Susan, who insisted she'd share Neville's.
Michael and Terry had hung back when Hestia was getting the popcorn. Neville noticed them conversing, especially the fact that they were keeping their voices low. He couldn't tell what they were up to until the group was going down the hallway and Neville got a push in the back.
Susan got one too, although gentler than the one Michael had just given Neville. The Ravenclaws were smirking.
"Shouldn't you check your tickets?" Terry said.
Hestia had passed them around in the lobby. Neville lifted his ticket, reading the small text for the first time, and noticed something out of place. The title wasn't for the action movie Terry and Michael were going to— it was the romance flick Susan had been entranced by. Behind them, in the direction they'd been pushed, was the room showing said movie.
"Have fun!" Michael said.
He and Terry scampered away before Susan could even say, "Wait!"
She held her hand up, but the boys were already gone.
"I guess Michael asked to switch our tickets," Neville said.
"He told me you'd prefer this," Hestia said. She'd purchased the largest popcorn size offered, so big that it blocked most of her face, her brown eyes peeking over the kernels at them. "Oh no, was that a prank? I believed him without thinking—"
"It's fine!" Neville and Susan said.
Neville meant it. If he had his way, this is what they would've been doing from the start. Susan probably meant it too, deep down, but her plan to sacrifice her own interests had been spoiled. She just couldn't say as much without making Hestia feel bad. Her desire to please the people around her canceled itself out, leading her to the movie she wanted to watch all along.
Neville's heart beat harder as he realized he was about to walk into a romantic movie alone with Susan. She realized it too, making eye contact that resulted in both of them looking away and blushing.
The back of their hands brushed, almost linking together. They walked into the theater room…
"Ooh, it's so dark in here!"
Neville and Susan both jumped at the sound of Hestia's voice. They looked back to see her trailing behind them, looking around the theater.
"...You're coming too?" Susan asked.
"This is the movie I picked!" Hestia held out her ticket, as though they could read it in the dim light. "Doesn't it look dreamy?"
"Yes," Susan said. "Very."
She met Neville's eyes and the two of them tried not to laugh. They felt silly after how nervous they'd gotten, only to find out they wouldn't be alone at all.
They found their seats right in the center of the theater, three rows up from the first seats and two rows down from the last ones. Neville and Susan settled in, Neville placing the popcorn on his right knee, splitting the distance between them. Hestia was quickly eating her way through her popcorn.
The film started to play, beginning with a cinematic of a roaring lion. "Ooh!" Hestia said.
Within the first five minutes, Neville could tell this wasn't his kind of movie. He knew that ahead of time, though. He hadn't come for the show.
A weight settled on his shoulder. His heartbeat quickening again, Neville looked over from the corner of his eye.
Susan had leaned over the armrest, laying her head on his shoulder. Neville felt himself smile.
The movie could've been two straight hours of nothing but a black screen and he would've had a great time, watching it like this.
O-O-O
"Mm! Now this you can't get at Hogwarts!" Lavender said.
She sucked her finger clean of grease. The shopping group had taken over a booth at a diner, loading up on burgers and sides. Their bags were stacked around them. They'd changed parts of their outfit mid-day, donning new purchases like Lavender's blue blouse and Tonks' black cardigan.
"I like Hogwarts food," Hannah said.
"So do I," Lavender said. "Still, it's all healthy. Sometimes a meal like this is what a girl needs."
Tonks leaned over to the window, looking at her reflection. She focused for a moment and her eyes, which had been blue all day, became a muddy brown. Her hair lengthened about two inches at the same time, creeping down her neck. Lavender gasped.
"Metamorphmagus!"
"Not so loud!" Tonks said. "You'll blow our cover."
A handful of Muggles around the room had looked over. Hearing one unfamiliar caught their attention for a few seconds, then they went back to their meals.
The girls in Tonks' group weren't thinking about that in the slightest.
"You're a real one, aren't you! An actual Metamorphmagus," Lavender gushed. "You have no idea how cool that is. I always wanted to be able to change my appearance."
"You can look like anything!" Parvati agreed.
"How do you use it? Are you a model?" Hannah asked.
"An Auror, actually."
All three girls went, "Ooooh!"
"Not how I'd use the power, but it must come in handy for you," Lavender said.
Parvati looked thoughtful. "If you're an Auror, then how do you know Professor Potter?"
"We met while I was on a job," Tonks said. "He made an impression and we stayed in touch."
Parvati and Lavender looked at each other. A second later, Lavender slid down the booth, bumping her hip into Tonks.
"What kind of impression?" Lavender asked.
"And what job had you interacting with a Muggle Studies professor?" Parvati asked, propping her chin on her hands.
Tonks looked around. She felt that she'd been caught in a slowly contracting net.
"I'm only a trainee," Tonks said. "I was with a senior Auror investigating a case when I ran into him. Things went wrong, but Harry never lost his cool. It was intimidating how calm he stayed. At first, he scared me a bit. But he's never been mean, or even rude. It feels like I could ask him for help with anything and he'd be there for me, even though we barely know each other. Is it surprising that I'd want to give back when he asked me to do this? I'm sure if I came to him for a favor, he'd smile at me and his green eyes would crinkle, and he'd do it in a heartbeat. That's just what he'd like."
"Shit, you're crushing on him!" Lavender said.
"Huh?" Tonks laughed, her voice strained. "How'd you get that out of what I said?"
"You're talking to Hogwarts' gossip queen," Lavender bragged. "I've seen first years that blush less than you do when talking about him. No girl mentions a guy's eyes like that unless she's been thinking about them loads. Face it, Tonks. You're obvious."
"She's read you," Parvati said, smiling at Tonks apologetically.
"It's nothing to be embarrassed about," Hannah said. She held her soda, swirling it around the cup. "Professor Potter is very good looking. It makes sense she would like him."
"You know what this means, right?" Lavender said.
Tonks leaned back as Lavender grabbed her arm, despite being a trained Auror and seven years older.
"We should have some time before Professor Potter comes back." Lavender's voice was pure no-nonsense. "Thirty minutes, minimum. We can work with that."
Parvati took out an eyeliner brush, uncapping it. Hannah started sifting through Tonks' shopping bags. Lavender leaned forward, looking at every aspect of the Auror's features with a critical eye.
"I've never given a Metamorphmagus a makeover before," she said. "This will be fun."
O-O-O
Hermione was surrounded by the smell of books. Her feet stepped quietly across the soft green carpet. When listening carefully, she could catch the swsh! sound of pages turning. Surrounded by readers and books, she was firmly in her happy place, with one minor exception.
Hermione turned around sharply, facing the dark-skinned boy trailing behind her.
"The British Library has fourteen million books in its collection," she whispered. "It's comparable in size to Hogsmeade. One million six hundred thousand visitors enter it annually, averaging to over four thousand per day. And yet, in this entire expanse, you remain stuck to me like a duckling!"
She kept her voice to a whisper, but her volume rose enough at the end for the readers around them to glare. Hermione mouthed, 'Sorry!'
She looked back at Blaise as he tapped his fingers against his palm, clapping softly enough that it didn't carry sound.
"You would make a wonderful tour guide," he said. "Unfortunately, I can't leave you to your own devices."
Hermione crossed her arms. "And why not?"
"You're the only one that knows what you're doing here."
Hermione winced. Blaise had scored a point.
Aurora Sinistra, it turned out, was a half-blood who'd lived the first ten years of her life as a Muggle. That experience rapidly ran into a wall when they actually visited the library.
After relying on her wand for more than two decades, she'd utterly forgotten Muggle library practices, especially in a library so overwhelmingly large and, frankly, overwhelming in general. When they split up, Aurora had been struggling to get her bearings, stumbling around acting dazed.
Daphne had gone her own way. She'd brought her own reading list and knew exactly what she was after, allowing her to act self-sufficiently. That left Hermione and Blaise in their current stalemate.
"...What do you want to find?" Hermione asked.
Blaise smirked victoriously. "Stories. Your favorites, ideally. I imagine that's a lengthy list. There are few in Hogwarts who read as prolifically as you."
Slowly, Hermione uncrossed her arms.
"Follow me," she said.
For nearly forty minutes, she taught him the sorting method and how to track down specific books. If she only had to lead him to stories it wouldn't have taken nearly so long. The extra time was because Blaise wanted to learn the method. Hermione increasingly considered the possibility that he planned to visit alone in the future, outside the confines of their field trip.
Finally, they settled into a table in an area that allowed casual conversations. They'd picked out more books than they could finish in an entire day of reading. Rather than starting each, Blaise took time to read the covers and memorize the titles, adding them to a reading list compiled completely in his head.
"You really do plan to read them," Hermione said.
"I thought that would be clear by now." Blaise set down Pride and Prejudice, picking up Mary Shelley's Frankenstein in its place. "I'd be thoroughly wasting my time if I came here without the intention of reading."
"It doesn't bother you that they were written by Muggles?"
"What does it matter if they can use a wand or not? They can use a pen. Words carry a completely different kind of magic."
"Well said," Hermione remarked. She spoke as soon as she thought it, paying him the first compliment she'd ever offered. Blaise looked at her, saying nothing, an easy smile playing on his lips. Hermione broke eye contact first.
"I'm surprised that you followed me, library knowledge or not," she said. "I thought you would've wanted to be close to Daphne."
"For what reason?" Blaise asked.
"Well, the two of you are dating, aren't you?"
Blaise chuckled. "She's my illustrator. Her help will be instrumental in realizing my goals, and she gets to accomplish her own dream in the process. She's pleasant enough and her skills are top-notch. I've never once been tempted to sour our relationship with some silly fling."
"I see. I guess she isn't your type," Hermione said.
Blaise looked at her. When he didn't speak or continue his work, she noticed. Hermione shifted in her chair. "What? What are you thinking over there? I don't like that look."
"I was just wondering," Blaise said. "Since when do you spend time thinking about what my type might be?"
The blush Hermione developed grew slowly and steadily until it encompassed her whole face.
"It was just a passing thought," she insisted.
"So you started just now, then. Thank you for the clarification."
"I'm telling you, I don't actually care."
"Well, if you were wondering at all, I suppose I prefer women with a strong sense of self. Intelligent, of course. I don't have the time or patience for fools." Blaise tapped his chin. "Ah! I've always been partial to brown hair."
"I said I don't care!"
Hermione's volume finally surpassed what was acceptable. A librarian stocking shelves turned around, putting a finger to her lips. "Shh!"
Hermione sat down quickly, picked up the largest book on the table, and used it as a shield to hide her scarlet face. Blaise laughed softly, finally opening one of her recommendations.
Fifteen minutes later, Blaise said, "This Dorian Gray is a very relatable lead."
Hermione peered at him over the top of her book, showing only her eyes and her bushy brown hair. "Yes, I imagine he would be to you."
There was another silence.
"I'm better looking, though."
Hermione groaned.