The Ancient Runes classroom emptied slowly as Professor Babbling's third-years gathered their materials. Chris tucked his notes into his bag, watching as Susan lingered unusually close by, repeatedly adjusting and readjusting her quill case. Something about her demeanour today struck him as odd, her movements were too deliberate, her glances in his direction too frequent and quickly averted when their eyes met. It was unlike Susan, who typically moved with quiet confidence, to appear so unsettled.
"Don't forget your translation homework due next Monday," Professor Babbling called as the last students filed toward the door. "Six inches on the practical applications of protective runes in household wards!"
Chris shouldered his bag and joined the stream of students flowing into the corridor. He had nearly reached the intersection that would lead toward the Transfiguration classroom when he felt a light touch on his arm.
"Chris?" Susan's voice was pitched slightly higher than normal. "Could you... wait a moment? I wanted to ask you something."
He turned, noticing the pink tinge spreading across her cheeks. "Of course," he replied, stepping aside to let other students pass.
Susan glanced around at the thinning crowd, then nodded toward an alcove near a suit of armour. "Could we talk over there? It's something private."
Curious now, Chris followed her to the small recess in the stone wall. The corridor gradually emptied as students hurried to their next classes, leaving them in relative isolation save for the occasional ghost drifting past. Susan fidgeted with the strap of her book bag, her eyes fixed somewhere around Chris's shoulder rather than meeting his gaze.
"Is everything alright?" he asked gently, leaning slightly against the cool stone wall.
"Yes! Everything's fine," she answered too quickly. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and finally looked him in the eye. "I was just wondering if... well, there's another Hogsmeade weekend coming up soon, and I thought maybe... if you wanted to..."
She trailed off, and Chris waited patiently as she gathered her courage. The torchlight flickered across her face, highlighting the determined set of her jaw despite her obvious nervousness.
"Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me?" she finally managed, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Just the two of us, I mean. Not with Hannah or the study group or anyone else."
The meaning behind her invitation was unmistakable. The slight tremor in her voice, the blush deepening on her cheeks, the way her fingers twisted anxiously around the strap of her bag, all signs pointing to feelings beyond mere friendship. Chris felt a small jolt of surprise, though perhaps he shouldn't have. There had been hints, after all, the way she always sat next to him at meals, her increased attentiveness when he spoke, the occasional lingering glance when she thought he wasn't looking.
In his past life, he'd been too oblivious to notice such things until they were explicitly stated. In this life, with an adult mind in a young body, the signs were far more obvious. Susan Bones had a crush on him.
Chris considered his response carefully. Susan was his closest friend at Hogwarts, intelligent, kind, and fiercely loyal. In many ways, her straightforward nature was refreshing compared to the complex manoeuvrings he often engaged in. And while he genuinely enjoyed her company, he couldn't help but think they were still quite young for romantic entanglements, at least from his unique perspective.
Yet as he looked at her hopeful expression, slightly guarded as if preparing for rejection, he knew he couldn't dismiss her feelings. They mattered, she mattered, and the last thing he wanted was to hurt her.
"I'd love to go with you," he said warmly, his decision made. "Just the two of us sounds perfect."
The transformation in Susan's expression was immediate and radiant. The tension melted from her shoulders, and a smile bloomed across her face, genuine and relieved.
"Really?" she asked, as if she couldn't quite believe her success.
"Really," Chris confirmed with a smile. "It'll be fun to explore Hogsmeade properly, without rushing from shop to shop with a big group."
"That's exactly what I was thinking!" Susan's words flowed more easily now, her earlier nervousness replaced with enthusiasm. "We could take our time, maybe have lunch somewhere nice. I've heard there's a little café past Scrivenshaft's that serves amazing hot chocolate."
"Sounds perfect," Chris agreed. "And we could visit Honeydukes without Hannah dragging us straight to the Fizzing Whizzbees."
Susan laughed, the sound echoing slightly in the stone corridor. "She does have a one-track mind when it comes to sweets."
A distant bell chimed, signalling five minutes until their next class. Susan's eyes widened slightly.
"We should get going," she said, adjusting her book bag. "We've got Transfiguration next, and Professor McGonagall locks the door precisely on the hour."
"I know," Chris replied, pushing away from the wall. "We better hurry."
They stepped out of the alcove together, preparing to head in the direction of the transfiguration classroom. Susan hesitated, then impulsively reached out and squeezed his hand.
"Thanks, Chris," she said softly. "For saying yes."
The simple sincerity in her voice touched him. "I'm looking forward to it," he replied, and found that he genuinely was. Whatever his reservations about their age and his unique circumstances, spending a day in Hogsmeade with Susan would be enjoyable.
She released his hand with a final smile, then they hurried toward the Transfiguration classroom, her steps lighter than they had been earlier. Chris watched her, thinking that of all the complex challenges he was juggling this year, navigating the waters of a thirteen-year-old girl's first crush might prove one of the more delicate.
Still, as he made his way to Transfiguration, he couldn't help but smile. Some normal teenage experiences might be welcome amidst the weight of ancient grimoires, blood curses, and meetings with six-hundred-year-old alchemists. A day in Hogsmeade with a friend who cared for him was hardly something to dread.
...
The path to Hogsmeade sparkled with frost under the clear November sky. Chris and Susan walked side by side, close enough that their shoulders occasionally brushed, sending a noticeable tension through Susan each time. An awkward silence had settled between them since leaving the castle grounds, different from their usual comfortable quiet. Chris caught Susan stealing glances at him, then quickly looking away, her cheeks pink from more than just the cold air.
Other students trudged along the same path in small groups, their excited chatter and laughter drifting back on the crisp breeze. Ahead, the village's thatched roofs and smoking chimneys emerged from behind a small hill, the sight drawing excited exclamations from the first-time visitors.
Chris decided to break the uncharacteristic silence between them. "Have you started thinking about your Christmas plans yet?" he asked, his breath forming small clouds in the cold air.
Susan looked relieved at the opening. "Yes, actually. Aunt Amelia has been invited to the Ministry's Yule celebration, so we'll be attending that on Christmas Eve. It's dreadfully boring, but she says it's important to make an appearance."
"Politics never takes a holiday," Chris observed with a small smile.
"Exactly," Susan agreed, her shoulders relaxing visibly. "She's promised we can spend Christmas Day just the two of us, though. Our tradition is to stay in pajamas until noon and eat gingerbread for breakfast." Her eyes widened slightly, as if she'd revealed something embarrassingly childish.
"That sounds perfect," Chris said warmly. "Much better than formal Ministry functions."
"What about you?" Susan asked. "Will you be returning to the manor?"
Chris nodded. "Jilly and Bouncy have already sent three letters about their decorating plans. I think Bouncy's goal is to fit a Christmas tree in every room."
Susan laughed, the sound bright in the cold air. "I'd like to meet them someday. They sound wonderful."
"They are," Chris agreed, feeling a genuine warmth at the thought of his loyal house-elves. "Maybe next summer you could visit the manor."
Susan's eyes lit up at the invitation. "I'd love that."
By the time they reached the village entrance, the initial awkwardness had melted away. They decided to tackle their practical shopping first, making Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop their initial destination.
The bell above the door tinkled softly as they entered. Scrivenshaft's was warm and smelled pleasantly of ink and parchment, with row upon row of shelves displaying writing implements of every description. Magnificent eagle-feather quills sat alongside more modest but practical ones, while specialty inks in every color imaginable lined an entire wall.
"I need to stock up on standard black," Susan said, examining a display of ink bottles. "I've been going through it quickly with all our study group note-taking."
"The study group has been a success," Chris commented, testing the balance of a handsome raven-feather quill. "Even Daphne seems to be enjoying it, though she'd never admit it."
Susan smiled. "I noticed she actually laughed at Hannah's joke yesterday. A real laugh, not just that polite Slytherin chuckle."
They browsed the shelves companionably, Susan selecting two bottles of standard black ink and a sturdy new quill, while Chris found a roll of high-quality parchment that would be perfect for correspondence with Flamel.
"Do you think Hannah minded not coming with us today?" Susan asked suddenly as they approached the counter to pay.
Chris considered the question. "I think she understood. Besides, she mentioned wanting to explore Hogsmeade with Justin and Ernie today."
Susan nodded, looking relieved. "Good. I just didn't want her to feel left out."
After paying for their purchases, they stepped back into the crisp air and headed toward Honeydukes. The sweet shop was visibly busier, with students crowded around displays and forming lines at the counter.
"It's like stepping into another world," Susan murmured as they entered.
She wasn't wrong. Honeydukes was a feast for the senses. Shelves upon shelves of the most succulent-looking sweets imaginable lined the walls: creamy chunks of nougat, shimmering pink squares of coconut ice, fat, honey-colored toffees; hundreds of different kinds of chocolate in neat rows; dozens of different barrels containing beans in every flavor, others filled with Fizzing Whizzbees, the levitating sherbert balls that Hannah loved so much.
"Where should we start?" Chris asked, watching Susan's eyes widen as she took in the magical confectionery.
"Everything looks amazing," she replied, drifting toward a display of Sugar Quills. "These would be perfect for our study sessions, satisfies the sweet tooth without getting chocolate on the notes."
They worked their way around the shop, examining Acid Pops, "Burns a hole right through your tongue," a nearby sixth-year warned a wide-eyed third-year, Ice Mice, "Your teeth chatter and squeak!", and peppermint creams shaped like toads, "They hop realistically in your stomach!".
At the chocolate section, Chris selected a handful of Chocolate Frogs. "For the cards," he explained with a smile. "I'm still missing Agrippa."
"Everyone's missing Agrippa," Susan laughed. "I think they only made about three of those cards."
At the counter, Chris insisted on paying for both their selections, the Chocolate Frogs, Sugar Quills and a small bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans they'd decided to share.
"Consider it my treat," he said when Susan protested. "We can test our luck with the beans later."
Their final stop before lunch was Zonko's Joke Shop, which hummed with magical mischief. Unlike the practical atmosphere of Scrivenshaft's or the sweet temptations of Honeydukes, Zonko's was pure chaotic fun. Trick wands that turned into rubber chickens when waved, boxes of Hiccup Sweets that caused uncontrollable hiccupping, and Nose-Biting Teacups lined the shelves.
"Fred and George Weasley must consider this place heaven," Susan remarked as they watched a demonstration of Dungbombs that released clouds of harmless but foul-smelling smoke.
"I'm surprised they haven't tried to buy out the entire inventory," Chris agreed.
They spent a delightful half-hour examining the various prank items, with Susan dissolving into giggles when Chris tried on a hat that made his ears grow to three times their normal size.
"Very dignified, Lord Emrys," she teased, eyes sparkling with mirth.
"I think it suits me," he replied with mock seriousness, striking a noble pose that sent Susan into another fit of laughter.
By the time they'd explored every corner of Zonko's, their stomachs were rumbling with hunger, and the initial nervousness of their outing had completely vanished.
"Ready for lunch?" Chris asked, checking his watch. "It's nearly one."
Susan nodded eagerly. "Definitely. That café I mentioned is just down the street. They're supposed to have amazing sandwiches along with the hot chocolate."
As they stepped back into the chilly air, Chris found himself genuinely enjoying their day together. Susan was easy company, intelligent, observant, and quick to laugh. Whatever came of her feelings for him, he valued her friendship immensely.
"Lead the way," he said with a smile, and they set off down the cobblestone street, their shopping bags swinging at their sides.
...
The café was tucked away on a side street, far enough from the main thoroughfare that it had escaped the notice of most Hogwarts students. Inside, copper lamps cast a warm glow over small round tables draped with checked cloths. The air smelled of chocolate, cinnamon, and fresh bread, a combination that made Chris's stomach rumble appreciatively as a smiling witch led them to a corner table partially secluded by a large potted plant with gently swaying fronds.
"This is lovely," Chris said as they settled into their chairs. "How did you discover it?"
"Aunt Amelia brought me here last summer," Susan explained, looking pleased with his approval. "She says it hasn't changed since she was a student at Hogwarts."
A menu written in flowing script on parchment appeared before each of them. Chris scanned the offerings, an assortment of sandwiches, soups, and pastries, along with an impressive selection of hot beverages.
"The roast beef sandwich is excellent," Susan suggested, "and you absolutely must try the hot chocolate. They melt actual Belgian chocolate into steamed milk and add just a hint of cinnamon."
"Sold," Chris replied with a smile. "Roast beef and hot chocolate it is."
A waitress with curly hair pinned beneath a lace cap took their orders, and soon they were enjoying their lunch, the conversation flowing easily between them. They discussed their morning purchases, laughed about some of the more outlandish items at Zonko's, and debated which flavor of Bertie Bott's beans was truly the worst. "Earwax," Susan insisted. "Vomit," Chris countered.
As they finished their sandwiches, the waitress brought their hot chocolate in large mugs topped with whipped cream and dusted with cinnamon. Susan watched expectantly as Chris took his first sip.
"This is incredible," he admitted, a dot of whipped cream catching on his upper lip.
Susan smiled, reaching across without thinking to wipe it away with her napkin. The casual intimacy of the gesture seemed to surprise her, and she quickly withdrew her hand, a blush rising to her cheeks.
A comfortable silence fell between them as they sipped their drinks. The café had emptied somewhat as the lunch rush passed, leaving them in a pocket of relative privacy. Through the window, Chris could see snow beginning to fall in lazy, fat flakes that dissolved as soon as they touched the ground.
Susan stared into her mug, seemingly gathering her courage. When she finally looked up, her eyes held a determination that reminded Chris of her formidable aunt.
"Chris," she began, her voice quiet but steady, "there's something I need to tell you." She took a deep breath. "I like you. More than a friend."
The words hung in the air between them, simple yet profound in their honesty. Susan didn't look away, though her fingers clutched her mug tightly, betraying her nervousness.
"I've liked you since last year, really, or maybe even since the year before that" she continued when he didn't immediately respond. "The way you're always kind to everyone, even when they don't deserve it. How you notice things other people miss. You're brilliant without being boastful about it." Her voice grew softer. "And the way you stood up to those Slytherins when they were bullying that first-year... not with anger or hexes, but with words that made them actually think about what they were doing."
Chris remained quiet, processing her words. It was strange to hear himself described through her eyes, this version of himself that existed only in this second life. Her perception was both accurate and incomplete, missing the decades of knowledge he carried, the memories of another existence, the weight of purposes beyond what any normal teenager could understand.
Yet her feelings were genuine, and in their own way, so were his. He did care for Susan, her steadfastness, her quiet strength, her unwavering loyalty. In another life, without the complications of his unique situation, perhaps things could have been simpler.
"I understand if you don't feel the same way," Susan added, misinterpreting his silence. "I just wanted you to know. And I hope we can still be friends, no matter what."
"I like you too, Susan," Chris said finally, his voice gentle. He reached across the table and covered her hand with his own. "You're one of the most important people in my life."
Hope bloomed in her eyes, quickly followed by confusion as she sensed there was more to his response.
"But?" she prompted softly.
"But I think we're still young," he continued carefully. "Thirteen is... early for dating, at least the way I see it. For both of us."
Susan's expression fell slightly, though she didn't pull her hand away.
"That doesn't mean I don't care about you," Chris added quickly. "I do. Very much. And I've enjoyed today more than I can say."
He paused, considering his next words carefully. What he was about to offer wasn't in his original plans, yet it felt right, a promise he could keep, a future possibility that honoured her feelings without dismissing them.
"I have a suggestion," he said, meeting her eyes. "A promise, actually. When we're sixteen, in our sixth year, if you still feel this way, and I hope you will..." He squeezed her hand gently. "I'll ask you properly to be my girlfriend. To date officially, with all that entails."
Susan's eyes widened. "You mean...?"
"I mean that I care about you too much to rush into something neither of us is ready for," Chris explained. "But I also care about you too much to let you go. So I'm asking you to wait, to let us both grow a little more. And I'm promising that when the time is right, if you still want me then, I'll be yours."
The tension in Susan's shoulders melted away, replaced by something brighter, more hopeful. "You really mean that? You're not just trying to let me down gently?"
"I never make promises I don't intend to keep," Chris replied seriously. "You deserve better than that."
A smile spread across Susan's face, brilliant in its relief and joy. "I can wait," she said, turning her hand beneath his to intertwine their fingers. "Knowing there's something to wait for, that's more than enough for now."
The snow was falling more steadily outside the window, coating the cobblestone street with a fine white dust. Inside the café, wrapped in warmth and the scent of chocolate, they had created a moment of perfect understanding.
"So," Chris said, returning her smile, "friends for now, with a promise for more?"
"Friends with a future," Susan agreed, her eyes shining. "I like that."
They finished their hot chocolate in companionable conversation, discussing classes and holiday plans, their joined hands resting on the table between them. As they eventually gathered their purchases and prepared to re-join their classmates for the walk back to the castle, Chris felt a curious lightness. Among all his plans and responsibilities, this simple human connection, a promise made, a future considered, felt refreshingly uncomplicated.
Susan smiled at him as they stepped out into the gently falling snow, snowflakes catching in her hair like tiny stars. Whatever the future held, today had changed something between them, something good, something worth protecting in the adventurous times ahead.