Even from a distance her look's telling me that she is not that enthusiastic about Elliott's company – though she doesn't want to let it show. That's just Harper. Too polite to always get what she wants, but daring enough to openly smile in resignation.

I for my part smile at the fact that we're entirely square. She let Leonora join us …

Both of them seize the opportunity, far away from Hogwarts, to wear trousers underneath their long coats – Marlene Dietrich may be to blame. As far as I'm concerned, the school might well reconsider the dress code when the forbidden looks that good.

"What are a Hufflepuff and a Ravenclaw doing out in Hogsmeade so late?" Elliott quips when we're within the ladies' earshot.

I add, "With two Slytherins at that."

Leonora sighs, "It's like the beginning of a bad joke, isn't it?"

"Slightly," I admit. "Though the occasion seems to be a quite serious one." I turn to Harper. "Results from heaven and hell must not be refused."

She links her arm into mine. "That's absolutely right. We don't want to break the rules, after all …"

"Do we not?"

She wants to hold my serious gaze, but a ready smile is crossing her lips at once. "Not for something so trivial, no."

It's written all over her. There's something she's going to tell me – or more likely, scold me for. But she knows as well as I do that we need to be alone for that. So she just shrugs, then pulls me along and asks almost casually, "Don't you realize what we really want right now?"

I could imagine quite some things – but is silence not golden?

"Tell me," I prefer to demand, even if I am a little distracted. A few strands of her hair have come loose from her updo, and there is something roughly magical about the way they swirl around her face in the cool November wind.

"Butterbeer!"

"Yeah, with that we can't go wrong," Leonora giggles. "I've been looking forward to it all day …"

I shake my head in silence, and it does not escape Harper's notice.

"Wait a minute …" She gives me an incredulous glance. "Seriously?"

"What?" I ask.

"Did you really just snort to imply you don't like Butterbeer?"

In mock-impression I praise, "Nothing gets past you …"

"Oh, come on, Riddle," she immediately whines, "this can't be true!"

"Why would anyone voluntarily drink diabetes in liquid form?"

"Because it's fun." She looks up at me and nods, as if to emphasize her words.

Whenever her enthusiasm is this infectious, I can't help but smile. It is like a reflex, a stupid, neurochemical impulse – and I have been all too happy to give in to it for almost two years now.
I don't like to admit to myself that this is exactly what has been missing in my life until now. But on the other hand, only a fool would close his mind to this bittersweet realization.

Nevertheless, or perhaps rather because of it, I willingly continue to argue with her. "Butterbeer is nothing but grease and sugar."

"Well, that's the whole point. Tom, butter and sugar – that's a perfect combination!"

"Like flames and smoke, for eternal balance," I retort. "Mind you, you get burned by one, and you suffocate thanks to the other."

Elliott chuckles. "I frequently wonder – where do these macabre comparisons come from?"

"Ell, we all know it, I'm an orphan," I say matter–of–factly. "I've been exposed to the macabre ever since I can remember."

"Yeah, yeah, sure," he says eagerly, patting me on the back with his free hand. (He has long since slid the arm of his right around Leonora.) "But ever since you and I've met, you've been much more fun, too."

"Keep telling yourself that. As they say, humor is about laughing anyway."

He winks. "See, all these things you've learned from me?"

"Thanks, Elliott, very impressive."

"He can be so painfully sarcastic …" he says and acts as though he was rather vulnerable, particularly complaining to Leonora before he beams at me.

Elliott, since day one, combines two fascinating qualities in himself – the existence of which in one and the same person I thought highly improbable for a long time. For one thing, he takes me as I am, and for another, he doesn't take me tooseriously.

He has gotten to know me surprisingly well in the few years we have spent practically like an old married couple. And I know him – everything about him. That is another reason why I see how hopelessly infatuated he is with Leonora. Of course, his advances keep being rebuffed in the presence of Harper and others like me, but every now and then, discreet tenderness leads to the cards being reshuffled.

And so I slow down Harper's and my own steps to allow the two in front of us some privacy through distance, while Hogsmeade already reveals itself in its homely modesty in front of us.

And of course, there is still a lecture to be held …

Still interlinked with my arm, she now gently pats the back of my hand so that I directly look down at her.

"What are you up to?" she nevertheless deflects, nodding in Leonora and Elliott's direction. "With these two …"

"Nothing at all", I claim saintly.

"Come, come …"

The corners of my mouth curving up betray me, so of what use would a lie be? "I'm rather sure Elliott and Leonora like to chat in private for a minute."

"As do we?"

That's the change of subject we have both been waiting for.

She raises a brow, sternly gazing up to me – and she has no idea just how hypnotizing that is.

"You and I, we're chatting all the time," I counter soberly nevertheless. "Like the other night, in the Restricted Section of the library …"

"Well, that was pretty risky," she remarks.

Likely she's believing that, under the cover of darkness, I miss her flushed cheeks, however the night is already lit up by yellow windows of small stone houses, close together. And sometimes a single ray of light is just enough …

It's disgustingly kitschy. And yet something inside of me longs for yellow fireplaces and butter and sugar, and for her.

"That circumstance made it even more interesting to me," I finally say. "Must be the lure of the forbidden …"

"Why did you bring it up in class today?" she asks gravely. "Our research about the Unforgiveables was supposed to be our secret."

"Is that the only reason you wanted to see me?", I ask her, playfully offended. "Because earlier it seemed to be all about Butterbeer …"

She stops abruptly, putting her hands on her hips. "Tom Marvolo Riddle – don't ignore the issue at hand! You've broken your promise!"

"I have not," I calmly defend myself. "Not one syllable about the Restricted Section has passed my lips."

"But Professor Wolburry – what if he questions Dippet and Slughorn about a conversation they've never had?"

"He hardly will." I'm very much unconcerned, but her worried gaze makes me affirm, "He's a harmony–loving soul, a blind man sees that. He won't burden himself with such issues, do yourself a favor and believe me."

She's soon drawing in a deep breath, then she finally nods and moves on with me. We can hear Elliott and Leonora laughing as they follow the quaint alley, but apart from us four, no one else is in the streets. All visitors of Hogsmeade have already chosen a warm pub or store.

"You know what I cannot understand, though?" Harper avoids my face and, instead, lets her eyes wander over Hogsmeade.

"Tell me what you cannot understand," I prompt her.

"Why," she begins slowly, "do you want to burden yourself with it?"

Her question makes me look up at the night sky for a moment. As though the stars had answers that hold some truth even for me.

"Knowledge," I finally explain under my breath, "is power. And power can never hurt, can it?"

"Depending on how it's put to use, it very well can," she replies stoically. "Or will you try to persuade me that a Cruciatus can be instrumentalized for good?"

Now I pause and stop. I just look at her for a moment, simply to understand her concerns.

I have long noticed that my inhibition threshold is much below that of others, but I cannot understand their reservations. For was it not an advantage in the orphanage that I'd always be able to defend myself without even getting close to anyone?

Once I've read it in an old, yellowing book, it was immediately clear to me what must have happened then. That even as a child I had crossed boundaries that some others will never cross for the rest of their entire lives.

But I cannot possibly tell Harper that …

"Should not the pursuit of knowledge of all kinds be our endeavor?"

"Yes, but let's try not to take it too lightly. We're speaking of the Dark Arts, after all."

She forces herself to smile warily, and I don't know how to describe it, but in contrast to reproachful skepticism, I mostly see concern for me in her eyes.
But that should not be on her face either.

"Are you coming?" Elliott calls for us from the entrance of the Three Broomsticks. Both him and Leonora look at us expectantly from a distance, and I just nod so the two of them go ahead without us.

"Harper," I then proceed to say, squeezing her cold little hands in mine, "I apologize for mentioning it to the Professor. My bad. That was unwise, you're right, however …" I am about to lie to to her face, simply to reassure her. But I'm a firm believer in the principle of ends justifying the means. "I'm well aware of the implications the Dark Arts might cause. So I guess I was simply concerned with it as well, and you know how I wear my heart on my sleeve …"

As suspected, this immediately makes her laugh. "You're closed like an oyster!" she protests, softly elbowing me. "If I hadn't overheard your name during the sorting ceremony back then, you probably would've kept me guessing for months!"

"That would've been entertaining indeed, yes." I smile wryly. "In spite of everything, will you be visiting the less frequented areas of the library with me again?"

She laughs, nodding. "Because it's you, Tom."

"Terrific. Shall we get you liquified diabetes now?"

"And what will you be drinking?"

I sigh. "It will be butter and sugar for me, too – as euphoric as it makes you, I may have to try it again."

She grins. "Then let's get out of this cold …"