"Oh, come on. It's not that strong, is it?" Elise shook her head, watching the young man across from her push his empty glass aside and ask for a second glass of water. He'd finished his drink before the food had even arrived.
"Well," he said, "no—but I've had a rough week. Professor gave me extra assignments to pull my grades up so I can still qualify for the Quidditch team, and I feel like I've hardly slept. I'm exhausted."
Elise loved this pub. The low glow of enchanted lanterns, the smell of spiced soup drifting from the kitchen, and the steady hum of quiet conversation made it a perfect retreat. It not only served the best stew in the village, but it was the place for students looking to celebrate making it to the weekend—or simply escape their workload for a while. She didn't ask questions—just ordered a butterscotch bourbon.
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