She glanced up, seeing his face redder than it had been after their row about her Knockturn Alley mis-adventure. “You’ll need a cage for him,” Potter pointed out. Xxnx Yet the hooting continued, more persistent, and somewhere in the carnal recesses of her mind she knew her very presence there was a bad idea, a poor choice of both Dumbledore’s and Hagrid’s judgment. The mixing aromas from the apothecary, ice cream parlor, and owl emporium blended with that of the joke shop’s scented smoke bombs, while candles burned mid-wick in every storefront window, lending the area a unique flavor. Before he had time to decide she had already drug him into the carriage behind her. Probably why he’s still squirming come to think of it…
He turned back to Hagrid, leaving Ron to fend for himself.
