"A butterbeer."
Malfoy sat down on an old-fashioned, backless wooden chair and waved towards the proprietress behind the bar.
"I..."
Pansy sat in the seat opposite him. She swallowed the word also when she noticed Malfoy's warning look. His grey eyes revealed an unyielding determination.
"An orange juice," she said listlessly.
"An orange juice," Malfoy repeated, even though Pansy's voice had been so quiet that it was barely audible.
"All right. It'll be ready soon."
The proprietress's voice quickly reached them.
They were currently at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade.
As for the reason they had come here, it was naturally because Malfoy intended to fulfil his promise and bring Pansy on a "date."
The idea of calling it a date had naturally originated with Pansy.
Malfoy, on the other hand, did not have many thoughts running through his mind. He simply looked around at the familiar yet unfamiliar tavern, overwhelmed by a mixture of emotions.
The place was completely different from its usual bustling state. It appeared unusually deserted.
The witch who sold strange stones was gone.
The wizard who loved gambling with several decks of cards was gone.
Even the waiter who used to help out had disappeared.
Since business was so slow, the proprietress could manage everything by herself.
Less than three minutes later, two steaming drinks were placed on a tray and brought over by Madam Rosmerta.
However, when the proprietress approached them, she let out a soft gasp. Her eyes widened in surprise as she examined the boy several more times.
She was probably wondering how someone who had been a fugitive only a few days earlier, hunted by the Ministry of Magic, had already returned—and was now sitting here with his girlfriend, going on a date without even taking a few days to rest.
Of course, these were thoughts that could only remain in her heart. They could not be spoken aloud.
"Here's your butterbeer."
"And this little girl's orange juice."
Malfoy deliberately placed the two glasses far apart, then glanced at Pansy teasingly, as though he still remembered what had happened when she got drunk previously.
Pansy, however, felt slightly uncomfortable beneath his gaze.
"All right, you two can continue your conversation."
Madam Rosmerta picked up the empty tray and returned to the bar.
"Go on, tell me something. Don't you have a lot to say to me? If you're willing, you could tell me about your life at school. For example, how did you become a Prefect?"
Malfoy took a sip of the butterbeer. The drink was topped with orange-coloured foam and gave off an enticing aroma.
He teased her casually.
Pansy simply stared at him.
"Is there something on my face?"
Malfoy could feel her intense gaze.
"Can't I look at you?" Pansy complained faintly. "It was too dark that day. I couldn't see you properly."
Before Malfoy returned, the girl had had countless things she wanted to tell him and countless questions she wanted to ask.
But once he was actually sitting in front of her, she no longer knew what to ask.
Or rather, once her worries had faded, her curiosity naturally diminished as well.
Besides, Malfoy was always extremely secretive about his affairs. Asking him questions was often pointless.
She knew that even if she asked about specific details, she would not receive an answer.
It was much easier not to ask at all.
"Tell me what you've been doing," Malfoy said.
"What could I possibly have been doing? I simply kept an eye on the younger students, patiently explaining what they could and couldn't do. Sometimes, I helped the professors with miscellaneous tasks."
"Points cannot be deducted."
"They might look impressive, but if they don't perform well, no one listens to their instructions..."
Pansy spoke in a tone that was half venting and half complaining.
Malfoy quietly listened, occasionally interrupting with a few words or offering some advice.
Only in front of him could the girl put aside her pretended toughness so openly.
"When there's nothing else going on, students from different houses often get into conflicts..."
Pansy suddenly stopped speaking.
"Meeting."
She glanced at the battered clock hanging on the wall, then stood up so quickly that she nearly overturned the table.
"Is there a meeting?"
Malfoy could tell from her expression that something had probably happened.
Pansy hesitated.
"I'm not leaving again."
Malfoy smiled.
"This is perfect timing. You can go back first. I still have a few things to take care of."
Pansy left somewhat reluctantly, leaving Malfoy alone with his drink.
"Let me pay. If I remember correctly, it should be a few Sickles..."
Malfoy tapped the table with his wand and pushed the silver coins across.
"It's on me today. Consider it a celebration for your return."
Rosmerta gently wiped her eyes, yawned lazily, and looked at him with a mature charm.
"It isn't worth much, anyway."
"I'll come and visit more often once business picks up."
She smiled.
Malfoy accepted her kindness without pretending otherwise, then walked towards the door.
He gently pushed open the worn wooden door and stepped onto the streets of Hogsmeade.
A dry, cold wind swept past him.
He looked around, filled with emotion.
Compared with its former lively atmosphere, the village was now deserted. Very few students could be seen, and many of the shopkeepers had already closed their businesses.
Compared with life itself, money could always be earned again later.
Hogwarts would obviously become Lord Voldemort's ultimate target eventually. Hogsmeade, standing so close by, would not be spared either.
However, his destination was still open.
Honeydukes Sweetshop.
The shop's green-painted wooden door had lost some of its paint, and the once-vibrant colour had faded.
In the past, people could look inside through the semicircular glass window on the left. Now, however, the window was covered with a thin layer of dust, making it difficult to see through.
The entire shop looked neglected.
The owner sat behind the counter, appearing drowsy.
After Malfoy pushed open the door—
"Mr. Malfoy?"
The owner still remembered the student who had helped him a long time ago.
"Let me choose first."
Malfoy gently raised his hand.
All kinds of goods, packaged in boxes and wrappers—some exquisite, others simple—flew towards him in an orderly fashion and piled up on the floor.
The sight gave the impression that countless small things could eventually amount to something substantial.
The angular packages were arranged like bricks, with excess wrapping paper folded and tucked beneath them, making the pile appear neat and orderly.
The more complicated packages were placed to one side.
A gentle breeze stirred the blue wind-chime sweets hanging in the shop. They produced a crisp ringing sound that gradually faded before finally stopping.
Some of the products were normally sold only after customers had waited in long queues.
"Please calculate the bill."
Malfoy politely looked at the shopkeeper.
"Let me count everything."
The owner suddenly became energetic, his eyes shining.
"Chocolate Frogs, sixty pieces..."
"One hundred chocolate balls."
"Chocolate..."
"Chocolate..."
"Twelve Galleons and two Sickles in total. Let's just call it twelve Galleons."
The shopkeeper spoke cheerfully. He had not made a sale in quite some time.
"By the way, you bought quite a lot. The two Weasley brothers bought a similar amount last time for their experiments. What are you planning to do with all this?"
Could it be related to reselling the products or using them as ingredients for some sort of prank food?
However, Malfoy was clearly not short of money, nor did he seem interested in playing pranks.
It was rather strange.
"It's for eating."
Malfoy was unusually straightforward this time.
And he was telling the truth.
The shopkeeper naturally did not believe him, but a shopkeeper would never refuse business that came directly to his door.
Malfoy carefully packed everything into a package enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm.
Everything proceeded normally.