Trying to Calm My Nerves
I take a bite of the chocolate that was left on my doorstep the other night and grin as I read the note that was attached.: From three badgers to a lion (but especially from the tiger badger).
I understand the "three badgers to a lion" part easily enough--Hannah spent the evening with Megan and Susan earlier this week. Of course, the Hufflepuff-coloured ribbon was a good clue, too.
But the "tiger badger" part...
No matter how I try to turn my head around that cryptic message--and I've been trying since I opened the door and found the package --I can't wrap my mind around the meaning of that phrase. I assume it means Hannah, but I just don't understand the tiger reference at all.
Oh, well. I'll just ask her on Sunday.
I'll admit that I'm a little nervous about Sunday. She's going to teach me to cook.
And her father will be there.
He seemed very nice when I met him earlier, but I was only there for a few minutes. This time... This time, he'll have me at his mercy, on his territory, for hours.
The thought's enough to make me break out in cold chills.
I keep telling myself that everything will be fine, but I'm not totally sure I've convinced myself of the fact yet.
Consequently, I've made a lot of progress on the greenhouses at the manor. It helps if I keep busy. That way my mind doesn't dwell too much on what might happen.
I force my thoughts away from Hannah's father as I fill some pots with soil, wetting it slightly before transplanting the seedlings I started on Monday. It wasn't too hard; I've found myself wondering how Harry--and Ron and Hermione, too--has been doing since they defeated Voldemort. I'd received my copy of the most recent issue of the Quibbler, the one with Harry's interview in it, and I read it with interest. Mostly, I was surprised that he'd done the interview at all. I know how much he hates the press--and rightfully so. And I think I was surprised at how mature his responses sounded. Of course, he has seen more in his short life than most of the rest of us will ever see.
I wouldn't call us the best of mates. Harry and Ron had each other--and Hermione, of course. But I'd definitely call us friends.
And, well, truth be told... I miss them. I miss having other people around. Trevor's not the best conversationalist, although he's a great listener. And Hannah...well, she's great, of course, but sometimes a bloke needs to talk to other blokes.
I really need to contact them and see how they're doing.
I understand the "three badgers to a lion" part easily enough--Hannah spent the evening with Megan and Susan earlier this week. Of course, the Hufflepuff-coloured ribbon was a good clue, too.
But the "tiger badger" part...
No matter how I try to turn my head around that cryptic message--and I've been trying since I opened the door and found the package --I can't wrap my mind around the meaning of that phrase. I assume it means Hannah, but I just don't understand the tiger reference at all.
Oh, well. I'll just ask her on Sunday.
I'll admit that I'm a little nervous about Sunday. She's going to teach me to cook.
And her father will be there.
He seemed very nice when I met him earlier, but I was only there for a few minutes. This time... This time, he'll have me at his mercy, on his territory, for hours.
The thought's enough to make me break out in cold chills.
I keep telling myself that everything will be fine, but I'm not totally sure I've convinced myself of the fact yet.
Consequently, I've made a lot of progress on the greenhouses at the manor. It helps if I keep busy. That way my mind doesn't dwell too much on what might happen.
I force my thoughts away from Hannah's father as I fill some pots with soil, wetting it slightly before transplanting the seedlings I started on Monday. It wasn't too hard; I've found myself wondering how Harry--and Ron and Hermione, too--has been doing since they defeated Voldemort. I'd received my copy of the most recent issue of the Quibbler, the one with Harry's interview in it, and I read it with interest. Mostly, I was surprised that he'd done the interview at all. I know how much he hates the press--and rightfully so. And I think I was surprised at how mature his responses sounded. Of course, he has seen more in his short life than most of the rest of us will ever see.
I wouldn't call us the best of mates. Harry and Ron had each other--and Hermione, of course. But I'd definitely call us friends.
And, well, truth be told... I miss them. I miss having other people around. Trevor's not the best conversationalist, although he's a great listener. And Hannah...well, she's great, of course, but sometimes a bloke needs to talk to other blokes.
I really need to contact them and see how they're doing.