Magical Hogwarts

 

I'm only good at being young...
October 2004

Graduation had been months ago, but in many ways, Andronicus still felt like the same kid he’d always been. Morning classes were no longer, but he hadn’t gotten out of the habit of waking up early. The adult league at the community center was a far cry from the Champion Slytherin Team of last term, but Quidditch was still part of his life. He cared too much about his hair, felt the weight of a legacy he didn’t want, and – most importantly – Andy was still broomstick-bristles-over-handle in love with Jacqueline MacClelland. So, yeah, he wasn’t at Hogwarts anymore, but until now, he hadn’t felt it.

When he got to Hogsmeade tonight – entering through a floo and not the gates from Hogwarts for the first time – Andy instantly felt older. They weren’t here on a Hogsmeade Weekend (though, Halloween was on a Sunday). Andy wasn’t wearing a Slytherin sweater or scrambling to stock up on sweets. He didn’t feel like a professor might scold him for sneaking a kiss with Jacqueline. They were back here in the same place they’d been so many times – but everything was different.

Better.

And they could drink now, too.

Andy held the door open to the pub for Jacqueline, kicking the damp leaves that clung to his boots on the doorframe before following her. A gust of classic October wind picked up, creating a wind tunnel in the narrow space between two walls, an overhang, and the old oak door. Hogsmeade, as expected, had gone all out for Halloween. Andronicus smiled at the carved Jack-O-Lanterns glowing in the window. Everything felt a little bit spooky, eerie even for Hogsmeade, and Andy loved it. Candles on the table, the mantle, and around the room looked like they’d been burning a little too long; little mountains of melted wax collecting around them.

“What are you drinking tonight, Jacq?” he asked, his hand on the small of her back as they looked for a table.

@Jacqueline MacClelland

 

It familiar and strange at the same time, to be essentially back at Hogwarts – except two months later than usual. From time to time she found she did miss it a bit but, overall, she much preferred being on the other side.

Adult life was going about as well as could be expected thus far: she was still living at home but had nearly saved up enough to rent her own place, likely by the time the New Year dawned. It was an exciting prospect, beginning to make her own way in the world, figuring out how to support herself and navigate this next phase of her life. The field-work part of her job was perhaps the most difficult: she was clever and a great problem-solver but not exactly the quickest-thinker or with the best reflexes… and the latter two were especially important when one was out in the field contending with time-sensitive accidental-magic-reversal needs on-site in real-time. She’d come a long way these past almost-three months, but Jacq knew she had much further to go.

Her and Andy’s date tonight would be more than a welcome distraction from these stressors. They saw each other at least weekly (if not more frequently), even if only briefly, and sent each other notes when they were apart. Seeing him was always the highlight of her week; whenever they would part ways, in the same instant she was already looking forward to the next time.

Once they’d arrived in the village, hand-in-hand they’d followed the familiar cobblestone path to the Three Broomsticks. Gigantic fake cobwebs and fake Acromantulae clung to the rooftops, carved pumpkins and neeps and tatties were arranged between shops, and candles were lit in every window. The village’s inhabitants certainly did not disappoint.

Ever the gentleman, Andy held the door open for her just as a particularly strong gust of crisp autumn air whipped through, unsettling her hair and billowing the end of her scarf out like a ribbon. But the instant she crossed the threshold, she was suffused with the familiar warmth and coziness of the pub that chased the chill right out of her.

“What are you drinking tonight, Jacq?”

“Mmm… I think just a butterbeer, for the noo,” she replied pensively. She’d been of-age for a year-and-a-half, but even so she almost never drank alcohol – the appeal didn’t really exist for her, and furthermore she was always hesitant to test her boundaries while out in public, lightweight that she undoubtedly was.
“Perhaps some of Madam Rosmerta’s famous mulled mead later, though.” She grinned, turning her head to catch his eye. “And a sip of whatever it is ye’ll be having, surely.”

She spotted an open table in the back corner and tilted her head to signal him, but took his hand again anyways and led the way.
“What will ye be having, then?”

 The grin on his face pulled wide, deepening his dimples as their eyes met, “Surely.” She’d been stealing some of his crisps and sharing food from his plate for a decade now. Andy thought it was only fitting that she'd sip a bit of his beverage now that they were old enough to do so in the pub. Andy spotted the table in the back seconds after she had, and in sync – and because she held his hand – they strolled toward it.

Finding a good table was important. Andronicus was the sort who was comfortable just about anywhere. He wouldn’t have minded if they’d gotten a table next to a rowdy group of regulars, or just outside the bustling kitchens, even a seat at the bar would have been acceptable. Being here with Jacqueline, though, Andronicus was glad to secure a quiet, cozy back corner.

The atmosphere of the Three Broomsticks was the same – bustling near the entranceway, cozy tables but drafty floors, wood and stone architecture, magical portraits – but being here now didn’t feel the same as it had in years past. Andronicus recognized that it wasn’t the pub that had transformed.

He considered her question, his lips almost answering butterbeer by default, before speaking. “Maybe a cider?” It sounded like a question, as if he was waiting for her approval (which was only right, if she had that sip), and because he didn’t know much about drinking. He’d had alcohol from his cousins before, even an ale with his father after graduation, but he was relatively inexperienced. Andronicus had always been too preoccupied with Quidditch to sneak as many drinks as some of their classmates did on the weekends. – he went to parties; he just didn’t drink.

Andy was careful not to scratch the wooden legs across the floor as he pulled Jacqueline's chair out for her. “Jumping to firewhiskey right-off-the-pitch seems a bit overeager, I'd think,” Andy joked as he slipped out of his jacket and hung it on the back of his chair. He'd probably get a mulled mead if she ordered one, though, just so they could drink together. “Maybe some Cornish pasties, too.” Many things had changed after Hogwarts, but plenty had stayed the same. Andronicus was still always hungry.

He mentioned cider, and Jacq’s expression lit up. She hadn’t thought of that, and it sounded delicious.
“Mm… hot? I’ll most certainly be having a sip or two.”

He thoughtfully pulled her chair out for her, and she kissed his cheek in thanks before sitting down. She left her coat on for the moment, not quite ready to remove it.

“Jumping to firewhiskey right-off-the-pitch seems a bit overeager, I'd think.”

Jacq laughed softly.
“Perhaps just a wee bit. Though no if ye sip at it, I suppose… it’s an acquired taste, after all.”
Not that she knew from personal experience, but secondhand: her da and grandda were effectively whisky connoisseurs (at least, when it came to Scotch). She’d tried a sip, here and there, and it was enough for her to take their word for it.
“D’ye like the stuff?” she asked curiously, pulling off her gloves and unwinding her scarf from around her neck. “It’s a bit much for me.”

Andronicus felt the twinging sense that someone had told him not to mix his alcohols. Liquor or beer, but not both. Clear or dark, but not both. Something along those lines. And as they discussed the many varieties (of which he had no idea the taste), that thought came tumbling to the front of his mind. “I think I’ll stick with a cider, to start.” He said, mostly because that was what she said she’d like to have, and he tried to always take care of her first.

Settling into his seat, Andronicus kept examining the differences of being at the Broomsticks as an adult versus a student. It had been a long time since his feet barely touched the floor – he’d always been tall, even at thirteen – but sitting here now he felt taller than ever. Like he took up more space than before, as though he had earned this table.

Jacqueline asked if he liked whiskey, and Andronicus wasn’t sure he had enough experience to answer honestly. “Not really,” he said, flipping the menu over on the table. “Do you think anyone likes how it tastes, though?” Andy was fairly certain that some drinks were enjoyable only after they’d had a chance to hit the bloodstream.