October arrived almost without a whisper. Damp, chilly air filled the grounds, slowly seeping into the castle through every crack in the doors and windows. A nasty cold suddenly swept through the staff and students, leaving Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing quite overwhelmed. Her Pepper-Up Potion certainly had an immediate effect, though anyone who drank it found steam pouring from their ears like chimneys for hours afterward.
During one of her experiments, Pandora had a mishap while grinding Horned Serpent horn, and a rainy black cloud simply appeared above her head, following her wherever she went. "I don't think it's supposed to do *that*..." she said to a dumbfounded Snape, her hair already soaked, looking utterly bewildered. Even the professors were stumped by the peculiar cloud, unable to explain its origins. The cloud hovered over Pandora for several days, then, just as mysteriously as it appeared, it vanished. After being relentlessly followed by Filch, who muttered and grumbled with a bucket and mop, his angry goldfish eyes glaring at her for two days, Pandora finally succumbed and caught a cold. Snape practically forced some Pepper-Up Potion down her throat, and as a result, wisps of steam continuously rose from beneath her vibrant golden hair, making her head look as if it were on fire.
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Raindrops, as large as marbles, hammered against the castle windows for days without end. The lake swelled with the downpour, and the flowerbeds turned into a muddy mess. Hagrid's pumpkins, however, thrived on the rain, growing monstrously large, each one expanding to the size of a garden shed.
It wasn't until mid-October that the weather finally cleared, and sunshine once again bathed Hogwarts. A notice on the common room bulletin board announced that the first Hogsmeade weekend of the term was this very weekend. Snape had assumed that after the Inferi incident, they wouldn't be permitted to visit Hogsmeade. Learning they could still go naturally filled him with delight. After all, after such a long stretch of rain, leaving the castle for a breath of fresh air, even for just a few hours, was enough to lift anyone's spirits. Besides, a few days prior, after being splattered with rain by an owl, Snape had received an invitation from Madam Rosmerta, the letter promising the finest oak-matured mead awaited his arrival.
"Who sent the letter?" Abbott asked curiously.
"Nobody important," Snape replied, quickly folding the letter and stuffing it into his pocket after glimpsing the handwriting. He had to admit, the lure of the mead was simply too strong to resist.
The morning they set off for Hogsmeade, a fierce wind raged, lashing mercilessly against the windows. The weather was no longer as mild as the day before.
"Pandora," Snape asked as he settled down for breakfast, "are you coming to Hogsmeade with us later?"
"Yes!" Pandora's eyes lit up, brimming with excitement. "I'd love a hot Butterbeer!"
"Er... I fancy a drink too," Snape said slowly, nodding along.
The walk to Hogsmeade was quite uncomfortable for Snape. On one hand, even though he'd wrapped the lower half of his face snugly in a scarf, the exposed skin quickly grew raw and then numb from the biting wind as he leaned into it. On the other hand, Pandora's company made him feel a bit uneasy. He kept reassuring himself that he merely wanted to enjoy a few glasses of that precious mead, as it certainly wasn't cheap.
At the fork in the road leading into the village, Abbott suddenly spread his arms, blocking Snape's path.
"Hold on a moment," he said with a mischievous grin. "Aren't you going to invite me in for a drink? Aren't we the best of friends?"
"I never said any such thing," Snape retorted, rolling his eyes.
"Always with the hurtful words," Abbott still chuckled. "I reckon you've got other things on your mind than just the pub, haven't you?"
"What... what... what are you talking about?" Snape's face flushed slightly.
"You can't fool my eyes with your little schemes."
"What schemes? Fine, come in with us then." Snape said, grabbing Abbott and trying to drag him towards the Three Broomsticks Inn. Hmph, as if he didn't know what Abbott was up to.
"No... I've got something to do..." Now it was Abbott's turn to struggle, his smile faltering.
"You're impossible! I invite you, and you want to leave? Have you been bewitched by some woman from who-knows-where?"
"Please... I beg you, let me go, I was wrong."
"So, tell me, what's so urgent?"
"Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop..."
"Oh, that's a lovely place, but it's quite a way from here. You'll probably be too late."
"Please..." Abbott looked pitifully at Snape.
They scuffled for a while before Snape finally released him. "There's no dealing with you. Go on then."
Snape turned to see Pandora still standing by the pub door, looking at them both with a fond expression. "Stop staring, stop staring, it's freezing out here," Snape grumbled. "What peculiar things fill the minds of young girls in the United Kingdom these days... clearly not enough homework..."
With that, he pulled open the door and quickly ducked into the small pub with Pandora. The pub was packed, incredibly crowded and noisy, warm, and thick with smoke. The alluring proprietress, Madam Rosmerta, a vibrant red silk scarf draped over her shoulders, was at the bar attending to a boisterous group of wizards. There was a small, empty table by the fireplace near the right window.
As Snape squeezed through the crowd, a foul and choking mix of tobacco and strong spirits assailed his nose. He spotted a scruffy, unkempt, squat man with wild ginger hair and a tattered coat, looking rather shifty.
Mundungus? That unreliable rogue who fled the battlefield, leading to Mad-Eye's death, and then ransacked number twelve, Grimmauld Place?
Snape frowned, clutching his pocket tightly, and steered Pandora, dodging and weaving through the throng, until they reached the back of the pub.
"What would you like to drink?" Pandora asked. "I'll go get the drinks."
"It's fine, I'll go," Snape said. "I know you want a Butterbeer."
Just as he stood up, he saw Madam Rosmerta approaching, a tray in her hands, smiling and nodding at him. On the tray sat a beautifully crafted bottle, two glasses, and a large mug of frothing hot Butterbeer. The bottle must contain Madam Rosmerta's oak-aged mead, Snape thought.
A pair of sparkling, emerald-green high heels shimmered in and out of view amongst the crowd, heading their way.