CHAPTER 21: OVER BUTTERBEER

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"Honest, let's make this night last forever"

-Blink-182, First Date

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If it weren't for having spent a year already being friends with her, Rigel probably would have been nervous as hell on their first official date. As it was, his palms were still rather sweaty as he waited for her at the bar of the Three Broomsticks on the first Hogsmeade trip of the year.

It was snowing outside and windy, so the walk here had been a bit blinding and freezing. The Three Broomsticks, however, was blissfully warm and cozy.

He beamed when he saw her and then looked away so it wouldn't look like he had been staring at the door waiting for her. She had snow in her hair and on her coast, and she shook it off of her as she came toward him.

"Hi, Rigel," she murmured. She sounded shy. It made his heart bubble with adoration.

"Hey." He grinned and handed her one of the butterbeers he'd already bought. "Here."

"Thanks."

"Let's find a table."

They found a corner table with a cozy, curving booth—one Rigel had seen people kissing at ever since third year. He did not, however, take the liberty with Holly.

Conversation flowed easily between them and they sat quite close facing one another on the curving seat, sipping their drinks. They talked of school, of their new classes, a little of Quidditch, and about the recent disappearances and attacks.

"Ceridewn's parents are Muggles but they're getting the Prophet delivered to them now because it explains what's happened better than their own news can," Holly told him. "A bridge collapsed and I forget what the Muggle officials blamed it on but it was Death Eater anti-Muggle terrorism, of course. And the strangeness of the weather because of the dementors breeding is only explainable by our news as well—theirs is going on about climate change…"

Rigel was nodded. "Yeah, my Uncle Cal watches the Muggle news a lot. He and my mum were raised pretty Muggle because my Grandma is and my Grandpa's a wizard who chose to take up Muggle schooling and a Muggle job."

"Huh." Holly seemed a bit amused by this. "What're your grandparents like?"

"Well my mum's dad's great—he's like my uncle except quieter. He really likes to work with his hands and he knows a lot—both Muggle and magical stuff. My Grandma Marisa's kind of—well, nothing much seems to make her too happy, but she keeps the little ones in line and she's got a lot of backbone; it must be where my mum gets all hers. Like, if Grandma Marisa was tortured for information no one would get a jolt out of her. I don't think she ever really approved of my dad, though she hardly knew everything about him. But she's been a good grandma to me." He shrugged.

"What about your dad's parents?"

"They're dead and I never knew them."

"Why not?"

"Because my dad's family and my mum's family wouldn't have gotten on."

"Oh."

"You know your dad's parents?"

"Yeah, but my grandma died a few years ago, and my grandparents on my mother's side have passed away too. They had my parents when they were older, like in their thirties."

Rigel nodded. Talking about parents was a little dicey for him. He'd didn't like to have to lie, so he tried to steer the conversation away. He took a drink of butterbeer and then said, "I'm envious of your Transfiguration skill, Holly—it's my worst class. I like Professor McGonagall a lot, but Transfiguration is a bit challenging for me."

She shrugged. "We're all good at different things. You're good at Charms and Potions. And Defense. So…was your dad a Ministry worker? Or was he involved in one of the rebel groups in the war?"

It seemed she would not be steered.

"He didn't work for the Ministry. But…I don't really want to talk about my dad."

"Oh." She was apologetic. "I'm sorry. I just wondered if both our dads worked for the Ministry. That'd be sort of an interesting thing."

"It's okay. Yeah. What did your dad do?"

"He was an Unspeakable." She smiled proudly as she said it and she watched Rigel's eyebrows rise appreciatively.

"That's cool. Although the Department of Mysteries isn't such a mystery to me now what with getting the grand tour at the end of last year."

Holly laughed a little. "No, I suppose it wouldn't be."

"Do you know what Room he worked in?"

Holly was quiet for a moment and then said, "The Hall of Prophesy."

"Huh." Rigel rubbed his chin. "Do you think it's possible that…the reason he was killed was over the same prophesy that the showdown last year was over?"

"I've thought about it. A lot of time has gone by, but it's possible. He was murdered a bit before Harry was born. Is it true that there was one about him and You-Know-Who in the Hall?"

Rigel nodded. "He was handling it, and people can only remove prophesies if it's about them. That's why they needed to lure him there. So, yeah, it must have been something to do with him and Voldemort."

"So it's true, then? He is the one meant to defeat him for good? The Chosen One?"

Rigel frowned. "I don't know for sure, Holly. You-Know-Who wouldn't have needed the prophesy if he knew, and whether or not Harry thinks it's got to be him in the end, he hasn't said to me. But like I told Brax, he's the hero we've got, whether or not he was 'chosen'."

"Is he a good person? Is he worth putting our trust in?"

"Yes," said Rigel very firmly.

"But, I mean, You-Know-Who is a dueling match for even the most skilled witches and wizards…how could a student hope to be a match for him?"

"Well, Harry has sort of never dueled him. Because, you're right, he wouldn't stand a chance. But he's gotten away with that for six years. Maybe that'll be how he does it. I don't know. But he's got Dumbledore helping him too, and Dumbledore has always been able to send You-Know-Who running."

"I know… It's just I feel like a lot of Harry's success has been luck. And that's a bit scary."

Rigel shrugged. "Call it what you will, y'know? Karma, fate, whatever. Good's gonna win out, Holly." He smiled at her. "It's generally how the big picture works."

Her returning smile wasn't sincere. He knew how she felt. They'd both lost fathers in this big picture. Victory often took sacrifice.

"What do you want to do after graduation?" Holly asked him after a sip of butterbeer.

Rigel considered the question. "I could do a lot of things, I think. I'd like to be an Auror…y'know—put away Dark Wizards before they can take somebody else's father from them. And maybe something with magical regulation and law enforcement, but working for the Ministry doesn't appeal to me at the moment so maybe not… I've thought about taking up magical apprenticeships, too. There's so much."

Holly nodded. "Yeah. I don't know, either. I like to write, so I was thinking I could continue studying and maybe end up writing spellbooks. Or teach. I could maybe become a Healer, too. After Dad died my mum saw someone for emotional support and they really helped her through and she still has appointments. And my sis has gotten into a lot of Quidditch accidents and the people at St. Mungo's are always really great with that, too."

"It's not until, what, next year that we start narrowing our focus?"

"Yeah, sixth year."

Rigel nodded. "What's your mum do?"

She's a research and lab assistant to one of the co-authors of the Transfiguration book we use in class." She smiled a little. "Professor McGonagall knows her."

"Aw, that's wicked," Rigel said. "That's where you get your bloody talent."

She grinned at the compliment.

At the end of the evening, he and she stood at the place in the corridors where they were going to part—her to the Ravenclaw common room and him to the Gryffindor one to spend a little time with Harry and the gang before starting on some late homework. They both had small bags in their hands containing purchases from the shops in Hogsmeade.

Rigel gently stroked her right arm with his thumb and gazed at her.

"I had a wonderful time today, Holly."

"I did too."

He smiled. He wanted to kiss her, but was cautious. He thought the best plan of action would be to wait until she made that move. Then he could be sure that she wanted that. Holly leaned forward and he kept still, his blood humming with warmth. She kissed him softly on the cheek.

"Goodnight, Rigel," she murmured, her skin brushing his, her words almost tangible in his ear.

"Goodnight, Holly."