"When did you sneak out?" John asked, sitting on the bench beside him. Sherlock stiffened as their shoulder brushed ever so slightly, making John blush as well.

"It smelled weird." Sherlock shrugged.

"It smells brilliant." John debated. Sherlock sighed, looking up and down the streets now packed with students.

"I still need to get my mom and dad something, and Mycroft I suppose." He sighed.

"What do you think they'd like?" John asked.

"I don't know, Mycroft's a nerd so he might want some books or something, let's try Tomes and Scrolls." Sherlock decided. John nodded, that store definitely wasn't his favorite but there could be some interesting things in there for Sherlock. He nodded, getting off the bench and waiting for Sherlock to collect his bag. John noticed that it looked a bit heavier now, as if he had recently bought something. John didn't want to look as if he had noticed though, because chances were that it was either a present for him, Greg, or both. They walked through the town, still no sign of Mycroft and Greg, but they were probably at Madam Puddifoot's. When they went into the bookshop it had yet another distinct smell, leather and old books, which was probably relaxing for Sherlock but for John it smelled like school work and essays and he didn't like that very much. Sherlock went right to the back, where all the informational books were, stupid stuff that was totally down Mycroft's alley. John picked up a book for Sherlock, a spell book for attacking and self-defense, something all of them obviously needed, and a book for Mycroft about Muggle mathematics, which he should find fascinating. John made sure Sherlock was still poking around the shelves when he quickly checked out, shoving the book bag into his Honeydukes bag so that Sherlock didn't have suspicion. But it was a bit obvious that John had a book in the bag because now it was vertically too heavy to even carry. Sherlock had a separate bag, obviously not caring much if Mycroft saw. They stepped outside the dingy store, back into the sparkling cold snow.

"So now what? All presents are in order, when are we going to Zonko's?" he asked. John looked down the street to the colorful building, happy to see student streaming in and out. Hopefully they were stocking up for the rebellion and not for personal reasons.

"I don't know, maybe later." Sherlock shrugged. "When we find those two again." he looked around for Greg and Mycroft, still nowhere to be found. Not that it was a bad thing; John didn't exactly fancy two lovebirds around at all times.

"Want to go to The Three Broomsticks?" he asked hopefully.

"That sounds good." Sherlock agreed, fiddling with the straps of his bag and awkwardly looking at the ground. John wondered what he did wrong, it was a perfectly friendly request to be honest, but maybe Sherlock saw it as more than that. Either way it was fine with John. They trudged to the small pub, opening the door and letting the cold wind blow into the warm, toasty room. It was filled with students from every house, all sitting at tables and drinking an assortment of drinks.

"You find a table, I'll buy the drinks." Sherlock decided.

"Are you sure? I've got plenty of money." John protested.

"I'm sure, go ahead." Sherlock insisted. "Oh, can you take my bag too, it's quite heavy, but don't look inside."

"Okay." John agreed with a knowing smile, which Sherlock only looked away from, handing John the bag and trying to ignore that their fingers brushed. John walked over to a corner table with only two chairs, it was nice and warm but you could hear the cold wind blowing behind the wall. He waited for a little while for the drinks, but soon saw Sherlock walking through the crowd with two large mugs of the frothy drink. John smiled happily as he set the mugs on the table, taking the seat across from John and sipping at the foam on the top of his mug.

"Are you sure I don't have to pay you back?" John asked, feeling a bit guilty.

"It's my treat." Sherlock assured. John smiled thankfully and pulled the mug to his lips. The butterbeer warmed him from his head to his toes, feeling absolutely heavenly after being in the cold outdoors.

"I sent Jam to my family, told them I'm staying here for the vacation." John said.

"As did I, they were a little disappointed but fully understood." Sherlock shrugged.

"Do they, you know, know?" John asked.

"I left those details out." Sherlock sighed.

"So did I." John agreed. "Harry would torment me." Sherlock didn't say anything more on that subject, just sipped the butterbeer, leaving an adorable foam mustache resting on the top of his lip.

"You've got a little something." John said, pointing to his own lip for reference. At first Sherlock didn't understand, sitting straight up in his chair and glowing red, but then wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"So do you." He added, still blushing a bit. John wiped his own mouth with his sleeve, smiling as he saw Sherlock steal a glance.

"Ah there you are." Mycroft's voice said above them, wiping both the smiles off of their faces.

"Oh yay." Sherlock groaned.

"Enjoying yourselves I hope?" he asked, pulling a chair up.

"Go ahead, join us, totally fine." Sherlock snapped.

"I hoped it would be." Mycroft agreed. Sherlock rolled his eyes, now seeming un-appetized by the drink in front of him.

"Where's Greg?" John asked.

"In line." Mycroft said simply. There was a heavy silence, no one wanted to talk to one another and both John and Sherlock silently hated Mycroft for spoiling the moment they were having a little bit ago.

"So what have you two pals been up to?" he asked with a smile.

"Shopping." Sherlock snapped. "Just the same as you hopefully."

"A little of both, brother dear." Mycroft said with a small smile, making both John and Sherlock scowl. John sipped his butterbeer to prevent any vomit from coming up. He didn't hate Mycroft, in fact he had really grown on him, it was his constant reminder of the relationship between him and Greg that John hated. And the fact that since he was the big brother he thought he could go poking around din all of Sherlock's business and barge in on any conversation he wanted to.

"Quiet today?" Mycroft observed. Sherlock didn't reply, and thankfully he didn't have to when Greg arrived with two butterbeers. He pulled a chair over and handed on to Mycroft with a loving, disturbing smile.

"Let's hit up Zonko's after this." He decided.

"Hopefully the line is out the door." John agreed. Sherlock shushed him, looking nervously around the room.

"You don't know where, she, is." He pointed out in no more than a whisper. John nodded in agreement, not finding it such a big deal never the less.

"Christmas break is in a week, I assume we're all staying?" Mycroft asked.

"Sent the owl yesterday, didn't get a reply but I'm sure they'll understand." Greg decided with a shrug.

"I hope this Christmas will be much more enjoyable than the last." Mycroft said, glaring at Sherlock, who groaned.

"It's not my fault that the gravy exploded; they were making fun of me!" Sherlock insisted.

"Wait, what happened?" John asked with a laugh.

"There was a little accident, let's just say that our dear Grandparents won't be visiting in a little while." Mycroft said. Greg laughed into his butterbeer, sending bubbles to the top of the glass. John knew that it had to be something with Sherlock's little secret, Mycroft didn't know that John knew and Greg had no idea what they were even talking about. The fact that the gravy boat exploded was quite comical until you realize that someone, maybe even his own Grandparents, had been making fun of his was not something John would laugh about. When all of their butterbeers were finished they left the table, walking in a group of four to Zonko's Joke Shop. To John's delight there was quite a pack of kids swarming it, browsing, buying, or just fighting the crowd to get in the doors. They somehow managed to get inside, raiding the shelves for anything they could get their hands on. Sherlock, being their main source of gold, was stocking up the most, but Greg could only now afford a couple of dungbombs. When they got out of the store they each had full bags of merchandise and a hopeful smile for the future. Zonko's was the last stop for Sherlock and John, but Greg had to run back because he had forgotten a present for his mom. How you even do that was beyond John, but for all he knew it could be a set up to get some more alone time with Mycroft. Nasty. They said their goodbyes outside the shop's doors, the two lovebirds prancing along together without a care in the world apparently, and Sherlock and John walked back to the castle alone. Part of John wished that he and Sherlock had such a tight relationship, that with one kiss they were just like Greg and Mycroft, flirting in public and kissing when they had the chance. Of course the brother to steal John's heart was the one that blushed at everything and practically went into a coma when their fingers touched. Kissing Sherlock was the best thing that had ever happened to him, it may not have been much of a kiss at all, but compared to all the girls combined the touch of Sherlock's lips had been more like the wake up bell in John's head.

"You're awfully quiet." Sherlock observed as they walked through the large oak doors to the Entrance Hall.

"Just thinking." John said truthfully.

"Don't hurt yourself." Sherlock advised, and at first John thought he was kidding but he looked perfectly serious.

"Hilarious." John sighed, rolling his eyes.

"I should go drop this stuff off, do you want to meet up somewhere?" Sherlock offered.

"I'll go to Ravenclaw; I have a feeling Greg and Mycroft will be in Gryffindor." John guessed.

"Okay, I'll wait by the door to help you get in." Sherlock decided.

"I can get in by myself." John said with a frown.

"It's a trivia question." Sherlock pointed out.

"And...?"

"Well I guess I'll see how you do then." Sherlock laughed, walking off to the direction of his common room and leaving John to run up to his dorms. When he got back to the Ravenclaw common room he had brought the Bertie Bot's Beans and his snitch, just some entertainment. John guessed that either Sherlock or Mycroft had a chess board if need be, but chess was one of the last things he wanted to do with Sherlock, still better than the Whomping Willow, Shrieking Shack, and the Forbidden Forrest. Not that chess with Sherlock wasn't scary. As promised, Sherlock was leaning against the wall and flicking his wand in the air, making colorful bubbles appear and attack certain things like the doorknocker, banisters, and each other.

"Ah, John, about time." he sighed.

"What are you doing?" John asked with a smile. The bubbles all popped, making the eagle doorknocker sigh in relief.

"Oh nothing, just passing the time." Sherlock shrugged. John nodded, approaching the door.

"So, you don't think I can crack this code?" he asked with a smile.

"No, I don't." Sherlock said with a shrug.

"Brilliant." John sighed.

"Thirty-Six white horses sit atop a red hill. First they clomp, then they stomp, and then they stand still." The eagle said. John paused, his self-confidence popping like one of the colorful bubbles. He wracked his brain, thinking as much as he could. It didn't make sense, what exactly was the eagle asking? What the horses were, who they belonged to, or where they were? Thirty six, what has thirty six? Divided by two is 18, eighteen of what though?

"Do you have a clue?" John asked Sherlock with annoyance.

"Do you?" Sherlock asked with a smile.

"Yes, but I want to see if you know it."

"Go ahead then, what is going in Mr. Watson's head?" Sherlock asked. John groaned.

"Okay, maybe I don't have a clue." John admitted. Sherlock just smiled triumphantly.

"Thank god you're pretty." Sherlock said with a laugh, but then seemed to realize what he just said. Much like John's, his self-confidence popped and he glowed bright red.

"I mean, you know, totally normal..." he muttered, looking at the floor.

"I don't mean to interrupt, but standing out here and flirting doesn't seem like a good use of anyone's time." The eagle interrupted, making Sherlock scowl once again.

"Teeth, it's teeth." He decided. The doorknocker didn't say anything, the door simply swung open, revealing the common room to both of them.

"I knew that, I would've in the end." John decided, cursing himself for being so bloody stupid. He walked into the common room, so bright that there was not a single light shining inside. For some reason there wasn't any snow on top of the glass, it was still coming down hard but there wasn't a single flake blocking out the view of the sun. The common room was pretty much empty of all older kids, the first and second years were the only ones lingering around and doing homework. John remembered when he was in those years in Gryffindor, he never really felt bad for himself though, he played Exploding Snap and chess with Greg, it was actually quite fun without the intimidating older kids.  The armchairs were taken, but it only took Sherlock to walk over and glare at the kids occupying them to walk swiftly out of there.

"You've got a reputation I suppose." John guessed, but sat down anyway.

"They're terrified of me, there's rumors." Sherlock shrugged.

"About what?"

"I guess I've supposedly attacked a group of first years because they wanted help on homework." Sherlock sighed. John looked at him quizzically, trying to tell if he was kidding or not.

"Wait, really?"

"No! Do I really look like the kind of guy that attacks kids purposely?" Sherlock asked with a bit of a disappointed frown.

"No of course not."

"Yes I do, of course I do, I scowl and hate people it's a perfectly logical assumption." Sherlock decided.

"You laugh and get butterbeer foam on your lips and have a strange addiction to Jolly Ranchers, there's nothing wrong with you Sherlock." John assured, making Sherlock smile shyly.

"That's only around you." Sherlock pointed out.

"What makes me different?"

"Because you're just, you. You're nice to me even though you know everything." Sherlock sighed.

"I wasn't nice to you in the beginning, I thought of you as you think yourself, but then I got to know you. You need to give people a chance and maybe you'll end up with a better partner than me." John suggested. Sherlock looked both embarrassed and hurt for some reason.

"John, you do know that I have absolutely no interest in anyone but you?" Sherlock pointed out. Now it was John's turn to blush and awkwardly look at the floor.

"Thanks...I guess." John muttered. Not even a knife could cut through the awkward silence between them; you'd need at least a battering ram.

"So, I got Bertie Bott's, want to take a chance?" John asked after a little bit, pulling the box out of his pocket and shaking it around.

"I've been lucky this far." Sherlock decided. John decided to just ignore that comment, ripping the plastic off of the top and holding the box open for Sherlock to pick. Sherlock got a yellowish one, which could only be bad news. He examined it, sniffed it, apparently didn't see anything wrong with it, and plopped it into his mouth. After quick chew he smiled.

"Strawberry shortcake." He said triumphantly. 

"You really are lucky aren't you? My turn." John decided, picking out a green one. Watermelon maybe, green apple? It looked pretty promising, so he bit into it and gagged.

"Oh god, it's booger!" John exclaimed, not knowing where to spit it.

"Fireplace." Sherlock pointed, as if reading John's mind. He got up from his chair and ran to the fireplace, spitting the awful candy into the roaring flames. That seemed to do the trick, but it didn't get rid of the absolutely foul taste in his mouth.

"Disgusting." He decided. "Your turn." John held the box out to Sherlock, who grabbed a random red one. John had seen that one before, he had gotten centipede, but with Sherlock's luck it would be cherry or something. But after close examination Sherlock decided that it was, in fact, pomegranate. After John got three bad ones in a row (skunk spray, Brussel sprouts, and pepper), and Sherlock got all of his perfectly normal (chocolate, Oreo, and Banana), he was pretty much with the whole thing.

"You're cheating, you absolutely have to be cheating." John decided, examining the box of candy as if it had any marks of magic around it.

"I'm picking just like you are!" Sherlock defended. John was now sitting sideways on his chair, his feet hanging off the edge. Sherlock was perched on the arms of the chair like a bird, smiling like an idiot.

"You're making the flavors up aren't you? They're nasty and you just want me to think you're some Bertie Bott's god or something." John decided.

"I'm not cheating!" Sherlock insisted.

"I would ask you to prove it, but there's no normal way to do that." John sighed. Sherlock just blushed but John could tell that they both had a method in mind.

"I promise I'm not making this up." Sherlock defended with a childish laugh. John would more believe that Dumbledore attacked first years than the laughing boy in front of him. He was so happy, so innocent, it just made John want to wrap him in his arms and treasure his very existence.

"I'll take your word for it, but I still doubt you." John sighed, picking one out of the box and popping it into his mouth. It was wood shavings, a tan color, but he smiled falsely.

"Oh yum, freshly baked bread."  He said, nearly forcing the words out of his mouth.

"The fireplace awaits what it really is." Sherlock decided, pointing to the fire. John just groaned, but there was no way he was actually going to swallow this one.

"I guess I can't pull that one off." John groaned, wiping the left over spit from his mouth.

"Obviously." Sherlock agreed. He reached into the box and pulled another one out, it was blue, so John could only hope it was something like toothpaste or frozen flesh or anything really. But Sherlock's face lit up when he bit into it.

"Blue raspberry!" he said happily. Maybe the satisfaction of having his suffer wasn't near enough satisfaction when Sherlock's smile returned. It light up the room more than the sun in the glass ceiling could ever accomplish.

"I'm done." John decided, closing the box and stuffing it back into his pocket with a sigh.

"Now what then?" Sherlock asked.

"I don't know, something you're terrible at, how about quidditch?" John suggested.

"Or chess." Sherlock said.

"Oh just be quiet." John snapped, but was still smiling. Sherlock grabbed two Jolly Ranchers from his pocket, handing one to John.

"To help with the after taste." He decided with a smile. John thankfully unwrapped it, kind of suspecting that this grape might end up to taste like poop or something.

"How many do you have in there?" John asked.

"Oh I don't know, I took a handful and stuffed it into my pockets, nothing wrong with that." Sherlock shrugged.

"You're one of a kind Sherlock, definitely one of a kind." John decided with amusement.

"Is there something wrong with that?"

"Absolutely not." John assured with a smile.