The warmth of the Three Broomsticks wrapped around Sirius and fit like a glove. He shrugged the chill of outside off him, spotted his friends sitting in a booth, and walked on over.
"Hello, my freaky darlings," he greeted, brushing the snow of his shoulder, and taking his leather jacket off. "Miss me?"
"Hardly," James said, moving over in the booth to make room for Sirius.
Sirius slid in, and turned to the waitress passing by. "A butterbeer, if you please. Now, gents, what's the order of business for today? And where's Peter?"
Remus shifted. "Haven't seen him since he went to Knockturn Alley a whiles ago. I suppose he'll be along soon."
Sirius looked incredulously at the two of them. And scoffed. "Peter would soil himself at the mere sight of that place." He took a swig of his butterbeer, and smiled devilishly at the waitress as she walked away, turning a shade of pink. "What were you thinking sending him off on his own?"
"We're not his keepers," James looked across the room, towards the entrance Lily had just exited. She'd been so busy lately. Unavailable. He turned his attention back to the table. "Speaking of, where have you been? Haven't seen you since this morning."
Sirius scooped the foam of his drink out with a spoon. "So what are you now, MY keeper?" he smirked, placing the foam in a nearby coaster. "I was with a girl, if you must know."
"Pretty?" Remus asked.
Sirius's smirk grew wider. "Stunning."
Linda wrapped her arms around herself to rub the cold out. Her fingers bothered themselves with the warm knit grey and blue scarf Sirius'd lent her, now hanging around her neck. And icy chill slid down her spine. It was getting really cold, really fast, she thought.
And she had the unshakable feeling of eyes watching.
She stepped out of her shadowy refuge, and walked down the streets of Hogsmeade, her hands in her coat pockets. Heading in no particular direction, she strolled down the village streets aimlessly.
From a distance, she saw a more-than-drab building sitting upon a hill. It was uninviting, unearthly, but most of all mysterious. People were literally picking up their pace as they passed this place. Something about this shack of a house intrigued her. In front of the mangled gate, Linda pushed open the beaten door with a loud creeaaaakk!, and squeezed herself through.
She heard footsteps behind her, muffled in the thin carpet of snow. Rabbits, perhaps. Linda could just make out a pathway leading to the abandoned home. And she followed.
But the sound of footsteps didn't fade.
And had she looked back, she would have seen the prints in the snow were not made by rabbits.