"I didn't think you'd be open in winter, too. If I'd known last year, I'd definitely have come for ice cream," Qin Yu said, accepting two chilled treats from the shop clerk.
"If you'd come last year, you wouldn't have found us open—we didn't do Christmas at all back then. But the boss figured there's business in winter, too, so starting this year, I'm not getting any days off," the young clerk replied, shrugging with a resigned smile.
"Yeah, I get it—life of a working stiff, right?" Qin Yu said, commiserating.
"Haha! You really aren't like other kids," the clerk laughed, shaking his head.
The tone made Qin Yu pause—something about it felt odd, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what.
Still, he didn't have time to dwell on it. He lifted his purchases, gave the clerk a grateful nod, and said, "Well, thanks for staying open, and for selling me this newspaper!"
"No trouble—I'd already read it myself. Come back anytime!" The clerk waved him off with a smile.
Still as friendly as ever, Qin Yu thought as he hurried out.
His steps only got quicker, soon breaking into a jog. He figured he'd been gone nearly half an hour by now—maybe more, if he counted the time spent lingering downstairs in the bookstore. It had been a long while since he and Hermione had split up.
"She's probably worried by now…"
The thought made him move even faster. He didn't even spare a moment to look at the hard-won newspaper—he just shoved it into his coat pocket and pushed through the crowds, apologizing as he brushed past several people.
Finally, he reached the front of Flourish and Blotts.
From a distance, he spotted the little witch sitting on the steps.
She was lifting a cup of juice to her lips. Just as she took a tentative sip, she caught sight of him watching her.
Her eyes went wide. She hurriedly set the juice back down on the step, right next to the other cup. She checked the levels of both—relieved to see they were nearly identical.
In the time it took her to fuss over the cups, Qin Yu had already walked up.
"What flavor was that last sip?" he asked, reaching out to pull her up.
Multi-Flavor Juice—every sip tasted different, so of course he was curious.
"I think… sour plum…" She rolled the taste on her tongue, licked her lips, and nodded with certainty. "Yes, sour plum."
"Hmm, I'd like to try that flavor too," he said, clear anticipation in his voice.
But the little witch noticed that his gaze had slid—not to her eyes, nor to the juice, but to the lips she'd just licked.
There was still a trace of juice there—the taste of sour plum.
Like she'd always said: spend enough time together, and you could read each other's thoughts with a glance.
But she knew him—he'd never dare actually lean in and taste it.
The realization filled her with a strange, newfound confidence. She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze in silent challenge.
Sure enough, the boy who usually acted so bold now looked away, suddenly bashful.
So she stood on tiptoe, eyes locked on his, and seized the moment to scold him: "Qin, do you know what you did wrong?"
Of course, she wasn't talking about his curiosity over the taste of her juice.
"I'm sorry, Hermione. I know I was wrong!" His hand squeezed hers, his tone earnest—an apology she could feel in her bones.
But the little witch wasn't about to let him off so easily. She kept her face stern, pressing, "And what exactly did you do wrong?"
—He used to grill her like this all the time.
"I shouldn't have left the bookstore without telling you. I'm old enough to know better, and I made Miss Granger worry about me. That was inexcusable."
As he spoke, he pulled her into his arms—just a little closer, so she could feel the sincerity in every word.
He might not dare taste her juice, but a hug? That was fair game—perfectly normal between close friends and family.
"I wasn't worried about you…" she mumbled, hugging him tightly. Even she was surprised by how muffled her voice sounded, and as the words left her lips, a rush of tangled emotions welled up in her chest and stung her eyes.
"Only a little bit," she amended.
"I know. But even making Miss Granger worry a little is still my fault."
He ruffled her hair, as if to brush away her worries.
"Good. As long as you know." She squeezed him tighter, adding, "Don't do that again. Next time, at least leave me a note so I know you'll be back soon."
"I promise. Never again."
"Good attitude. I'll forgive you this time."
"Thank you for your kindness, Miss Granger!"
"Yes, I am very kind!"
"But just because you're kind, doesn't mean I should take advantage and do whatever I want."
"Exactly. You have to hold yourself to high standards."
"Absolutely, you're right."
"It's a suggestion, not a lecture—I'm not some grumpy old grandpa."
"Of course not. It's a gentle reminder from a beautiful and kind young lady."
Their voices dropped to a private murmur, just for each other, as they stood in front of the bookstore, talking and talking—making up for every minute of the half hour they'd spent apart.
Not that they stood hugging the whole time—after all, they were still outside, not at home. But even when they let go, they stayed close, fingers intertwined, sharing those soft, rambling words.
…
Qin Yu's apology was genuine. He really had left too hastily, without a word, and hadn't considered Hermione's feelings at all. Even if he'd thought he'd be back in a flash, things had gone sideways and he'd ended up delayed. It was his own lack of foresight.
After soothing Hermione's worries—and his own—Qin Yu led his little witch back to the second-floor reading area.
"Oh! The juice!" Hermione had barely touched her seat before she sprang up, as if she'd sat on a hot stove.
"I'll get it. You just sit," Qin Yu chuckled, waving her down.
"Oh. Well, hurry up, don't take too long," Hermione said, her reflexes still on high alert.
So Qin Yu set down the things in his other hand, then headed back to fetch the two cups of juice—now perfectly matched in height.
The robe shop was doing brisk business today, so his new clothes wouldn't be ready for a while. They had plenty of time to sit and read.
Just as Qin Yu sat down and reached for the newspaper in his pocket, he heard Hermione's curious voice from across the table: "Did you manage to get the newspaper you wanted?"
"Huh? How did you know?!"
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
He hadn't had a chance to explain why he'd left—or mention the newspaper at all. He'd been too busy calming his little witch, saving explanations for later.
But he hadn't even brought it up yet, and Hermione was already asking about it. Sure, the paper was sticking out of his pocket, but from her tone, she clearly knew he'd gone to buy it.
"Hmph, I'm a great detective! There's no way your little schemes could get past me," Hermione declared, swiping her finger across her upper lip in a mock mustache.
"No one can hide anything from the great Detective Granger!" Qin Yu said, giving her a sincere thumbs-up.
He realized she must have pieced things together—asking around, following his trail, deducing his every move. Her attention to detail and logic were truly impressive.
Hmm… with skills like that, if I ever tried to sneak off to see Luna or Fleur, she'd catch me in a heartbeat.
The thought flashed through Qin Yu's mind.
Bah! That's just some meddling, shameless entity tampering with my thoughts! Even if I met another beautiful witch, it'd be for honest magical discussion—nothing to hide!
His mental protests grew louder.
When he looked up, he found himself staring into a pair of eyes shining with dangerous intelligence.
His heart skipped a beat—he almost confessed everything, though he wasn't sure what he'd be confessing.
Fortunately, the owner of those eyes only asked, "So, tell me—what kind of newspaper could possibly be more important than me?"
Obvious trap. Qin Yu knew he'd better set the record straight before answering.
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