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"Is that Greg Lestrade?" asked Professor Joseph Grant, Transfiguration professor and Head of Ravenclaw house, subtly motioning at the warmly wrapped wizard walking through the doors of The Three Broomsticks. His friend, James Tucker, looked over his shoulder and nodded.
"Yeah, that's him - why?"
"He doesn't drink, what's he doing in here?"
"Maybe to get away from the ball freezing chill outside?" James said, shrugging innocently. Joseph hit him on his arm before shifting his chair to the immediate left of James so he could see the whole of the pub. It was the middle of winter, and as was expected, most of Hogsmeade had in fact decided that Firewhiskey, Red currant Rum and Butterbeer was the thing to fight of the mutilating cold outside.
"No, but why is he here? I thought he was going home to see his wife over the holidays!"
"...Maybe she's decided to Holiday here this year?"
"Yeah, that could be it. Hogsmeade is always nice in winter, isn't it?" James and Joseph looked out of the window to see the odd Hogwarts student laughing with their friends in the light snow, or a Witch with her ears wrapped in a charmed ear muffler to keep away the cold walking by. Two students were making small multi coloured lights decorate the front of Dominic Maestro's in what James recognised as music, the lights changing colour and moving to a different position in the stave to represent "We Wish you a Merry Christmas". A smash from behind the bar caused them both to look back into the center of the pub, to see a young wizard being admonished by a Madam Rosmerta for dropping an empty Mulled mead bottle on the hard wooden floor.
A movement from Lestrade, and the pair to turn back to their primary source of discussion. They watched Lestrade awkwardly move around the jolly patrons as he made his way towards the lit fireplace, a pair of chairs and a low table in front of the grate.
Lestrade seemed to dither before whoever was sat in one of the high backed armchair before its occupant shot up and wrapped an arm around his padded shoulders. Mycroft Holmes rubbed his hand up and down Greg's sleeve in a comforting gesture, before Greg seemed to go limp, throwing his arms around him and crying silently into his shoulder.
"Shh, shh - come along, let's get you back to your quarters and then you can either sleep or I can procure some Schletters and you can drink until you pass out." Mycroft said quietly but forcefully into Greg's ear, motioning towards the papers he was previously marking with a wave of his wand and letting his ink cork itself before his quill, inkwell and papers all folded into the worn leather satchel on the table.
A pitiful excuse of a nod from Greg later, and the two left the Three Broomsticks, Mycroft carrying his cloak and bag, as to put it on would mean letting go of Lestrade, and he didn't think his knees could handle carrying himself right now.
"Is he alright?" asked Joseph quietly as they passed, but Mycroft only shook his head before the door swung open and they were lost to the bitter chill of Hogsmeade.