And so Nic had found her waiting at the top of the stairs in high black boots, Falmouth Falcons grey and white knee-britches, her blue military-cut jacket with brass buttons over her white blouse with leg of mutton sleeves and Byronic collar and over that, her elbow length black cape. Her hair was down, against her habit when going out of doors, but she knew Nic preferred it that way and so her hair was always down in his company. They had drawn away into a quiet corner of the entrance hall for a lingering embrace and seventeen kisses, and then gone out to be checked off the list, and to proceed toward Hogsmede.
The sun had been kind to them for most of the way casting, if not actually warming rays, and least a less chilly light onto the silver branches of the aspens, bare against the fading greens of the darker trees, and lighting the golds, russets and yellows of the birches and maples that stood out against the evergreens. The leaves underfoot were dry and rustled beneath their feet, and Alice rejoiced to kick at them from time to time where they lay drifted slightly deeper along the pathway from the School to the village. They had walked along, Alice chattering gaily about trifles, Nic, as usual quiet, content it seemed to hold her hand and to look at her constantly. Alice loved the feeling of his beautiful fingers entwined with hers; thought the weather was chill, his touch made the whole world seem warm and safe. They had stopped not above a half-a-dozen times to kiss, or to just hold each other close. A whole day to be together, without classes or homework or any other thing to worry them, or use up time which could be spent in each others company. What a wonderful thing is a day, when it can be spent in such a way.
They had arrived at the village, perhaps a little behind most of the other Hogwarts students, for they had been in no hurry, and there had been the kissing-stops which had taken up some time, to find the street full of chattering crowds and couples. They had walked through the throng, and Alice had been acutely aware of the gaze of several passers-by, but, where once she would have been perhaps shy of such attention she now held her head high, with what could only be called a natural pride and delight to be seen in the company of Nic Spain. Her Nic Spain. Thus, in their breezy way they had walked towards Madam Puddifoots where they had arranged to meet Whitney, Nics younger sister, Alice at times having to give a half skip to keep pace with Nics longer legs, at which times he would remember to shorten his stride, and they would walk along in step, and then the difference in their gate would through them out of harmony, and they would adjust again, each trying to make allowances for the other.
As the little tea-shop came into sight, Alice stopped and turned towards Nic, and gave him a quick kiss. There, Beloved, that is for luck. Mine, you see; you need have none. Tell me, am I pretty enough? Do you think she will like me? What should I know? What topics avoid? She flung herself against him, and after burying her face in his chest, looked up into his chocolaty eyes. How silly; I am as nervous as can be. I want her to like me, Nic. Is that so wrong? You will give me a kick, if I start rambling on too much, or if I say something truly gauche? There were so many firsts in Alices life these days. Now, for the first time, she actually cared what a third Year Hufflepuff girl might think of her.




