As much as Pomona adored her students, sometimes adult conversation was necessary in order to keep her sanity intact. So after doing her last greenhouse rounds - there was a new patch chomping cabbage she began cultivating that was proving to be more high maintenance than it needed to be, really - she lowered the lights and headed out, with the intention of popping by Hogsmeade before it was time to turn in for the night. She’d met most of the villagers over the years, and chances were that no matter what time of day she dropped into town, she would find a friendly face by firelight and an opportunity to chat.
Unlike Aberdeen, which only began to wake along with the sunset, Hogsmeade’s streets were sleepier in the evenings. The gentle rustling of the evening breeze against the roofs kept her company as she slowly veered down the street toward the Hog’s Head, intent on snagging a glass of their peppered hot chocolate. Peering curiously through the slightly dirtied window, she scanned the room - and spied the back of a familiar head sitting at the bar. Quirinus Quirrell… she’d never seen him in this context before, off-campus and outside of school hours, but there was no harm in speaking to someone under new circumstances.
She pushed open the door with a creak and headed towards him, the bottom of her robes brushing through the thin layer of sawdust that covered the floor. A few empty glasses sat empty in front of Quirinus, but the seat next to him was empty as well, so she settled into it. Before she had the opportunity to greet her colleague, he spoke, not bothering to look her way.
Pomona didn’t want to keep him from his company, if he was expecting any - but she couldn’t resist. “It certainly is now,” she replied with an easy smile, leaning forward on the bar. “Really, though, I can move if you’d like. Only thought I would say hello first.” She gave a little wave. “Hello.”
Quirinus nearly jumped in shock at the sound of her voice; his only interactions with her had been in a professional context, but he recognized that voice well enough. His grip on the glass loosened as he turned to face her, shooting her an apologetic look.
“N-no need. I...I thought you were someone else,” he lied, glancing away for a second. Surely that wasn’t his best lie, but he figured it hardly mattered with Pomona. She didn’t seem the type to anger over such things.
“H-hello,” he responded, an awkward little thing. He cleared his throat quickly after, finally turning his gaze away and back to his glass. Had he really become so bad at basic human interaction? ( Or, basic human interaction with adults, at the very least? )
“W-what brings you down here?” A question he barely had the right to ask - he was here too, wasn’t he? Her reasoning was none of his business, surely, but the question had already been asked; containing a sigh ( a sign of irritation at his own self ), he reached for his glass and took what he hoped was a respectably sized sip.
