In which Hermione may or may not have a secret cabinet of tea.

“I just don’t understand why you would make it so complicated!” said Hermione from the corner in her over cushioned  arm chair.

Three heads turned and looked at her.

“Make what so complicated?” said Harry.

“The ending of one Professor Severus Snape, JD.” Hermione returned.

“And how do you suppose I make it less complicated, Hermione,” Harry asked.

“Well it’s simple, isn’t it? You poison his afternoon tea, you tamper with his car, you get him alone and inject an air bubble directly into his heart. Not difficult!” Hermione said matter-of-factly.

Harry, Dean, and Theo looked at her, dumbfounded. 

“What? Really. You want someone dead, you knock on their door, they answer, you shoot them! Easy.” To her credit, Hermione said this with a straight face.

“I don’t want to go to prison for murder, Hermione, I just wish that the man weren’t so infuriating!” Harry exclaimed.

“Maybe you should be more careful what you wish for, Harry,” Hermione responded.

Theo stared at Hermione and hesitated for just a moment before saying, “Hermione, sometimes I really forget to make notes not to anger you.”

Hermione scoffed, “As if I am at all dangerous., Theo!”

Theo just shook his head and wandered into the kitchen.

 In which Draco is over-dramatically frustrated.

“Library books.” he murmured, looking at the stacks.

Pansy nodded.

“Library books?” he stared at her. “Really?”

Pansy fidgeted a little under his gaze. “I have them from every city I’ve ever lived in. I’ve been doing it since I was ten.”

Draco glanced at the books again, then back to her. “You never get to call me insane again.”

Pansy fidgeted some more. “Done.”

Draco walked out of the room mumbling “She steals library books?” under his breath.

Pansy watched him for a moment, then picked up The Rivers of Zadaa and set up camp in an overstuffed chair.


“Oh, not this again!” Said a voice from the door.

“Do shush, Draco.” said Theo from the couch.

“Must you insist upon watching this rubbish at least once a week? Really?” demanded Draco.

“Must you consistantly complain about it? It’s not as if I tie you to the couch and force you to watch it with me.” Theo shot back.

“Yes. The Constant Gardener does not qualify as quality entertainment, Theo. Tessa and Justin be damned, you don’t need to cry like a little schoolgirl every single weekend,” proclaimed Draco loudly.

“If you had ever bothered to watch this movie, Malfoy, you would know that The Constant Gardener is not about just the romance. It’s controversial, and for good reason,” Theo explained absently.

“Wouldn’t you rather read something? Wander through the seas in Moby Dick? Become unstuck in time with Billy Pilgrim? SOMETHING intellectual?” Draco cried in desperation.

Theo finally looked up, pushed Draco down into sitting on the couch, turned back to the movie and said, very quietly, “Sit still. Hush. Watch.”

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September 2011

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