In Ink and Inheritance (Book 1)

Chapter 11 - The Walk Between Worlds

LOliver Wood's POV

Hogsmeade had never looked more like a painting.

Fresh snow blanketed the roofs, draping over signs and shutters like icing sugar, and the shops flickered with enchanted lanterns that cast warm, golden light through the winter haze. It should've felt ordinary - I'd been here a dozen times.

But not like this.

Not with her.

Harriet walked a few steps ahead, flanked by Hermione, her cloak buttoned neatly to her chin, her braid wrapped in a soft blue scarf that didn't match her uniform but somehow made her look older. Not in the grown-up, put-together way. Just... more herself.

She didn't glance back at me.

She didn't have to.

I felt the thread between us humming the second we left the castle gates. It wasn't loud or dramatic, just a steady awareness - like gravity, except personal.

Ron had joined us too. Uninvited, obviously, but I didn't push it. He hadn't spoken to me all morning except for one suspicious glare and an unnecessary elbow nudge when I offered Harriet my hand over a snow drift.

Fine.

Let him be protective. I would've been too.

"I read through the contract expectations," Hermione said briskly as we approached the village. "You're not required to engage in any physical displays of affection, but you are expected to demonstrate 'intentional compatibility.'"

Harriet groaned. "What does that even mean?"

Hermione didn't miss a beat. "Proximity. Conversation. Shared decision-making. Essentially, acting like you aren't about to murder each other."

Ron muttered something under his breath. I caught the words quidditch lunkhead.

I ignored it.

As we crossed into the heart of the village, I took a deep breath. "Madam Puddifoot's is off-limits, by the way. I refuse to be evaluated in a pink, frilly death trap."

Harriet snorted. "Agreed."

I smiled.

We ended up at The Three Broomsticks, seated at a booth near the window while Ron and Hermione pretended they weren't obviously giving us space.

Madam Rosmerta gave us a curious look as she served our butterbeer, her eyes lingering for a half-second too long on our table. She knew. Of course she did.

Everyone in the wizarding world would, soon enough.

"You look like your mind's ten miles away," Harriet said gently.

I glanced at her.

She sat across from me, hands curled around her mug, cheeks pink from the cold. Her gaze was steady. Open.

"I was just thinking," I said. "About how strange it is... to be here like this. With you."

She didn't look offended. "Because of the contract?"

"Because of everything," I said quietly. "You're thirteen, and I'm on the edge of leaving Hogwarts forever. And yet here we are - in a booth, under supervision, pretending we know what this is."

Her voice was softer now. "Do you wish it hadn't happened?"

I looked at her for a long moment.

"No," I said. "I don't."

She swallowed. "Even though it means waiting?"

"If that's what it takes," I said, "I'll wait. I'll wait until you're ready - or until you tell me to walk away."

She didn't speak. Just nodded once, and took a slow sip of her butterbeer.

I could've left it there.

But I didn't.

"I see you, you know," I said. "Not just as the girl the world watches. Not the name on the scroll. You, Harriet. And I like what I see."

Her eyes flicked up, wide and vulnerable. "Even if I'm still figuring out who that is?"

"Especially then."

She smiled.

It wasn't big or dramatic - but it stayed. That soft, warm smile that crept into her eyes and made something in my chest tighten.

When we stepped out of the pub an hour later, snow had started falling again.

I offered her my scarf as the wind picked up. She hesitated, then took it, wrapping it around herself carefully.

"You're going to freeze now," she said.

"I'll survive."

We walked side-by-side back toward the carriages, just close enough that our shoulders brushed.

Ron and Hermione trailed behind us, bickering softly, and for once I was grateful for their presence.

Because even though we were bound by something old and powerful and impossibly complicated - this moment was simple.

Just a girl.

And a boy.

And a walk through the snow.