CHAPTER THIRTEEN
honeydukes after hours

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THE PASSAGEWAY TWISTS ON IN FRONT of them, slipping further into the earthy ground. Reminiscent of a rabbit's burrow, roots wind down from the ceiling of the tunnel and whack against their heads as they pass by. Rocks slant up from the ground in an attempt to trip them up on their journey, succeeding in Cove's case more times than she'd like to admit. Remus would always help her up off the ground afterwards, his fingerprints leaving a tingling feeling on her arms. No lights line the walls, so the pair become reliant on their twinkling wand light to guide them through the looming shadows. Cove wraps her arms around herself tight, tugging on the sleeves of her bobbly cardigan to swaddle herself further against the damp coldness that breathes through the secret passageway. It was either this or actually attending a detention with Rigby again. She chose the former.

She just wishes he would've warned her about the hundreds of sloping stairs that appear in front of them. Maybe she'd have been more reluctant to come in that case, and for good reason. Remus just shrugs apologetically and begins his ascent.

After walking up what had to be more than two hundred stairs, Cove finally pushes at a gnarled trapdoor, hoisting herself up on two very wobbly elbows. She flops on the cold stone floors, relishing in the cool sensation that settles over her. Her knees ache miserably from the incline and she scowls bitterly at Remus when he glides past her with his bloody long legs, almost completely unaffected.

  The lights are shut off for obvious reasons, so Remus projects his wand light to illuminate the dark corners of the room. Rows upon rows of technicolour sweets surround them, enclosing them in a packed maze of chocolate frogs and fizzing whizzbees. It's definitely strange to see all the bright confectionery pop against the ancient stone walls. Unlit lanterns dangle down from the ceilings and sit atop the stacked barrels of butterbeer — she can feel the cooling charms radiating off of the wood even from where she's sat. Cove peers around at it in awe, though something in her gut nags her that they aren't supposed to be there. Remus' voice shakes her from her daydreaming.

"Alright then," he announces to the nearly empty cellar, clasping his hands together. "The world's our oyster, Cove."

She picks at her cuticles anxiously. "I wouldn't know where to start."

"That's easy. What's your favourite?"

Propped up on her scraped hands, she hums in contemplation, peering around at the towering shelves. Her eyes catch on a freezer in the corner and a wide grin spreads across her face. Cove scrambles to her feet and hurries over, unlatching the glass door to scoop up one of the icy blue packets that she had spotted. She holds them up to show him.

He makes a face. "Eugh. How do you like ice mice?"

"What? How do you not?" she gasps, holding the chilly packet close to her chest. The sweets rattle about inside. "They're lovely."

"I mean, of all things..."

She huffs an incredulous laugh. "I dont understand why you hate them."

"For starters, they give you brain freeze," he defends. "And you squeak like a mouse for ages after."

"Yeah, but that's part of the fun," she counters. "Ice cream gives you brain freeze too and you're not complaining about it." Her eyes widen. "Don't tell me you don't like ice cream, Remus Lupin. I'll throw you down those stairs."

   "No, I do like ice cream. Those are just minging."

   "Fine," she huffs. "What's your favourite then, o' almighty one?"

   He smiles endearingly. It's insufferable. "Cauldron cakes!"

   She falters. "Those are rank."

   "What are you on about? They're lush."

"Cauldron cakes taste like compost."

"You're just trying to wind me up."

"Nah, I mean it," Cove says. "I'm sorry, Rem, but you have rubbish taste in sweets."

He pauses, a deer caught in the headlights.

"What?" she frowns. "What did I say? Are you okay? Do you need an ambulance?"

His grin is infectious. "You called me Rem."

Relief lightens her heart. "Did I?"

He nods.

"Well..." she says slowly. "Is that alright?"

"'Course it is," he replies. She can almost see a lightbulb coming to life inside his head. "Hold on, I've got a bargain for you."

"Okay." She eyes him suspiciously. "What's that?"

"I'll try one of your ice mice if you try a cauldron cake. Maybe you'll change your mind."

"Absolutely not. No chance."

"Oh, go on!"

"No. No. Over my dead body! They're actually disgusting. I refuse."

She ends up trying a cauldron cake.

It's not as bad as she'd initially thought, but it still makes her face scrunch up in ardent nausea. The syrupy filling mashed in with crumbly bits of too-chocolatey chocolate cake make her want to boak. Cove has to hand the rest of it over to Remus, who's trying to suppress the squeaking sounds from the ice mouse he'd bit into. They make a trade to restore peace back to the Honeydukes cellar.

"How often do you come here?" she asks.

"Not very," he replies. "Usually to stock up for parties, or if we're just looking for something to eat and don't want to nip down to the kitchens."

"Why, are the kitchens not adventurous enough for you?"

"You've answered your own question. C'mon, we need to get a move on before the Flumes realise we're down here. It's happened before and Mrs Flume is a force to be reckoned with, I'll tell you that much."

She shivers. "Don't worry, I believe you."

Reluctantly, Cove follows him up the creaky stairs to the main shop. (Seriously, if she sees one more staircase she'll lose her marbles.) It's deserted, the closed sign hanging heavily against the glass of the front door. She's only ever seen it congested with students to the point it's hard to move one foot in front of the other, so being able to see the floor is a complete shock. Remus strolls behind the till, sliding a handful of sickles onto the countertop for the things they'd taken. She tries to help pay for her share, but he puts his foot down.

Trying to creep through the main shop with the owners pottering about upstairs proves to be a challenge, especially since Cove's still squeaking slightly from the ice mice. The bell chiming behind them as they leave is their signal to pick up the pace.

She's never seen Hogsmeade so quiet. The setting sun highlights the contours of all the buildings as if the world were a watercolour painting, a few lights flickering on in the flats above the shops and inside the distant cottages as the day flickers into dusk. Flowers burst through the cracks in the pavement, little signs of life to show off that nature perseveres in places where it's welcome. Cove notices how the scars adorning Remus' face glow golden in the sunset, ruby lacerations reflecting the light in a way that makes her heart flutter.

  He says something that makes her laugh so hard her ribs begin to ache. Her feet collide with a muddy puddle and she begins to slip, but he grabs her arms to steady her. She really doesn't know what's gotten into herself today. There's some unforeseen force making her weak in the knees but she can't seem to place her finger on what it is.

  And then it hits her. The stolen glances, the flush over her freckles that's warm to the touch. Smiles and laughter and fuzzy feelings that she's neglected for years.

  Oh, she thinks. Oh no.

author's note!

does the olive theory apply to honeydukes sweets