And he Apparated first, reappearing between the line of apple trees that led into the vineyard. The apples were in season, it would be time for a pressing soon. In a few weeks there would be vats of sweet cider just waiting to be quaffed in the late evening sun. Harry licked his lips as he pictured it, then strode on through the rows and rows of grapevines, that were tangled on white trellises which snaked off into the distance. He wondered what grape variety the elves were growing this year. Last year's Pinot Grigio was wonderful, there were only a couple of bottles left.