It was the last Saturday before the Christmas holidays, and Hogwarts was blanketed in white. Snow drifted gently through the gray sky, dusting every windowsill, turret, and treetop in its silent hush. The castle grounds sparkled like a scene from an enchanted painting, and the excitement in the air was palpable—it was the day of the Hogsmeade visit.
Cael walked beside Hermione down the corridor toward the front gates, both wrapped warmly in cloaks and scarves. Their breath fogged in the frosty air, and the stone walls of the castle echoed with laughter and the crunch of boots on the icy floor.
"It'll be your first real visit to Hogsmeade," Cael said with a sideways smile, "well, apart from that time we sneaked out in first year. Halloween day. You remember?"
Hermione smiled wistfully. "Yes. I was so miserable that day. Spent most of it crying in the girls' bathroom."
Cael chuckled. "You were a mess."
She punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Don't remind me of my embarrassing moments."
He laughed. "Come on, let's get moving. I hear the Three Broomsticks is extra cozy this time of year."
They passed through the entrance hall and stepped into the snowy courtyard, the cold biting at their cheeks. Cael glanced over at her.
"You've looked exhausted lately. Don't overdo it with the Time-Turner, Hermione. Drop something unnecessary—Muggle Studies, maybe. You're Muggle-born. You don't exactly need it."
"I want the full set of O.W.L.s," Hermione replied firmly. "Just like Percy Weasley. It's about discipline."
Cael shook his head. "Suit yourself. But don't burn out."
Ahead, Filch stood near the gate, checking permission slips with his usual scowl. When Hermione handed him hers, he gave it a brief glance and sneered.
"Go on," he said, waving her through. Then he turned to Cael. "So you're the one McGonagall vouched for. You've got special approval. Don't think that gives you license to be trouble. One toe out of line, and I'll make sure even she can't save your next visit."
Cael gave a courteous nod and a smirk. "Noted, Mr. Filch."
As they stepped past the gate and onto the snow-covered path toward the village, they heard the sound of hurried footsteps behind them. Cael turned to see Cassandra Vole, a few paces behind, her expression unreadable beneath her fur-lined hood.
"Cassandra," Cael called. "Come on. We're heading down now—you're going too, aren't you?"
She raised an eyebrow. "I didn't want to interrupt your little stroll with Miss Granger. But since you've offered the honor, I'll graciously accept."
She stepped up beside Cael, linking her gloved hands behind her back. Hermione offered a polite "Hello," to which Cassandra responded with a simple hum of acknowledgment.
The tension was immediate, but Cael chose to ignore it.
"So," he said, trying to keep the tone light, "heading home for Christmas?"
Hermione nodded. "Yes. My parents insisted this year. We'll be visiting my grandparents. I wasn't home last Christmas, and they missed me terribly."
After a moment of silence, Cassandra replied, "Naturally. In the Vole family, presence at Christmas is expected. It's tradition."
Cael gave a wry grin. "You two are lucky. I don't have anyone at home. Not like that."
Cassandra glanced at him. "You have your dear uncle now, don't you? Spend the holidays with him."
"He's busy," Cael replied, brushing snow from his cloak. "He's tied up fighting the legal battle to reclaim the Black family's assets. I don't want to be in the way. Besides, I have my own home—my mum's house."
Hermione chimed in. "The one I visited last summer? I loved it. I'd be happy to come back again next summer. We practiced so many spells together."
Cassandra's steps faltered. "You went to his home? To practice spells?"
"Of course," Hermione said proudly. "He invited me. Every week, I went over for practice."
Cassandra turned sharply to Cael, her eyes narrowed. "When I sent you letters, you never replied. Were you too busy tutoring Miss Granger to even acknowledge me?"
Cael's cheeks flushed. "It was only three weeks. And I never got your letters. Maybe the owls—"
"She has your home address," Cassandra interrupted. "You never even gave it to me. Yet somehow my letters go directly to your doorstep and returned back to me ."
"The owls just know where to go," Cael mumbled. "Look, I'll invite you next summer."
"You'd better," she muttered.
Hermione, meanwhile, wore a sour look, glaring at the snowy path like it had personally offended her as she didn't like the idea of Cael and Cassandra alone in his home .
"Right," Cael said quickly, hoping to shift the mood. "Where to first?"
"Sweetshop," Cassandra said immediately. "I want to see if they've stocked any new varieties."
"No," Hermione countered. "We should go to the bookstore first."
The two girls exchanged sharp glances.
"How about neither?" Cael offered. "Let's start with a butterbeer. Warm up at the Three Broomsticks."
They reluctantly agreed.
As they approached the bustling inn, Cassandra sniffed, "Order Miss Granger a juice, won't you? She's still too young for a proper drink."
"I am not a child," Hermione snapped. "And I will have butterbeer. Just like you do "
Cael chuckled. "We all will. Even you, Cassandra—don't forget last year, we were at her age too that first test the drink ."
Hermione's voice turned sharp. "Oh? So you two came here together last year?"
He nodded casually. "We did."
Hermione clicked her tongue, saying nothing.
Inside, the pub was warm and crowded. Students laughed and chatted at wooden tables, their breath steaming in the cozy air. Madam Rosmerta spotted them and waved.
"Well, look who it is—Cael Black with not one, but two lovely ladies! Starting early, are you? Just don't break any hearts."
Hermione blushed, suddenly fascinated by the fireplace trying to look away as they don't witness her shyness . Cassandra's ears went pink, but her face remained a mask of practiced calm.
"We're just here to drink and talk," Cael said sheepishly.
"Of course you are," Rosmerta said with a grin as she led them to a table. "Just don't go turning into a playboy, Cael. I've seen too many boys lose their heads messing with girls' hearts."
Cassandra quickly slid into the seat beside Cael. Hermione frowned and took the one across from him.
"So," Hermione said with edge in her voice, "won't your House frown on you socializing with Gryffindors?"
"I don't think they have the nerve to lecture me," Cassandra replied coolly. "But thanks for your concern, Miss Granger."
"I was just asking," Hermione muttered.
Their rivalry simmered, an unspoken duel of glances and sharp words.
Soon, Rosmerta returned with three frothy mugs and a tray of sugared pastries.
"Just one butterbeer each," she warned. "You're still underage, and I don't want to drag any of you back to the castle snoring."
Cael smirked. "Understood."
He handed Hermione her mug. "Your first butterbeer. Try it."
Hermione sipped cautiously, then smiled. "It's… odd. But nice."
The conversation turned, more relaxed now. They talked about the dementors, the trial, and the Ministry.
"My mother said you were at the trial," Cassandra noted, "along with my father."
"He was," Cael said. "He voted in favor of Sirius Black. Twice."
"And you?"
"I voted too," Cael said proudly. "Dumbledore told me that, as the heir to the Black family, I'm allowed to represent them. The Minister tried to block it—but he failed."
Hermione looked at him, wide-eyed. "You're the youngest to ever cast a vote at a Wizengamot trial, aren't you?"
"I'm sure someone's done it before," Cael replied modestly. "But I wasn't expecting it. I just had to do what was right."
"And you defended Hagrid too," Hermione said. "If it wasn't for you, Buckbeak would've been executed."
"They twisted everything," Cael muttered. "Called me rude, disruptive. But someone had to speak up."
"You did the right thing," she said. "And Hagrid's still teaching because of you."
"Not that Malfoy will forget it," Cael added darkly. "He'll try to use it against Dumbledore somehow."
Hermione scoffed. "The Malfoys are parasites. I don't know how they still have this much sway."
"Money," Cassandra replied. "They know how to make it. And more importantly, where to spend it."
"All those laws are a joke," Hermione said bitterly.
"They apply to everyone except purebloods," Cael agreed. "That's the ugly truth."
After they finished their butterbeer, they wandered the village: the candy shop, the bookstore, and even a magical salon where Cassandra got a light trim in preparation for the holidays. Then, as the snow began to fall heavier, they started the walk back.
"Where are Harry and Ron, by the way?" Cael asked.
"Harry's waiting on a new permission slip," Hermione replied. "His father didn't sign it at the start of the year because of Sirius Black. He sent an owl this morning. Maybe they'll come later."
As they crossed a frozen field near the gates, Cael suddenly scooped up snow in each hand and lobbed two snowballs—one at Hermione, one at Cassandra.
Hermione shrieked and laughed, bending down to retaliate.
Cassandra frowned. "Childish behavior—"
Before she could finish, a snowball from Hermione smacked her right in the chest. Her eyes narrowed dangerously.
With a flick of her wand, Cassandra conjured five perfect snowballs and launched them at Hermione, who yelped and ducked behind Cael.
The three of them dissolved into laughter, spinning through the falling snow in a flurry of giggles, hexed snowballs, and flushed cheeks.