Prompts 22 and 23
Title: Tea and Sugar
Author: Devonwood
Format & Word Count: Drabble; 397
Rating: PG/K+
Prompt: Prompt 22 (Different Kind of Wonderful lyrics), Prompt 23 (clock)
Warning: None
Summary: I’m wondering why she’s here in the first place...
Author's Note: It’s only 8:00 pm, and I could go to bed. -.- A fic with prompts 24 and 25 should be up tomorrow...
Monday
She’s in the kitchen again. Dear Merlin, she's got a mug. I hope she doesn’t break i-
...She broke it already. Five seconds; that has to be a new record.
She grins and blushes, a color that clashes horribly with her platinum blonde hair. The whole look makes her seem sickeningly like Lucius Malfoy.
I’m wondering why she’s here in the first place. She should be on a mission, not slacking off drinking coffee in the kitchen, trying to make cheerful conversation with me.. I only get a break because it is a full moon. We all have to do our part.
Tuesday
She’s in the kitchen again. Her mug has Spellotape around the handle, and a large crack down the side, but otherwise it looks fine. She just seems to be surprised that it holds any liquid without dripping.
She smiles at me and offers me a cup of tea she brewed. It is Earl Grey, my favorite, but she hasn’t put any sugar in it. The taste is bitter, and I scrunch my nose and look around for the sugar bowl. A small frown crosses her face.
Thursday
I couldn’t come to the kitchen last night- not that it is a ritual or anything, because it’s not. She got there before me this time, and has a piping mug of tea situated at my favorite chair. I smile back, and I grab my tea. The amount of sugar is better, but I discreetly conjure more and slip it in under the table. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
Friday
She’s on an Order mission tonight, and I hesitate to say I miss her company. A mug of tea sits on the table with a small note beside it.
Remus,
Sorry- we’re out of Earl Grey. I found some Black Currant, and I thought you would like it.
-T.
I write her a note back saying that Black Currant is just fine, and that she had nothing to apologize for.
Saturday
I make it to the kitchen first again, but a kettle of tea is already brewing on the stove. She walks briskly in behind me, chattering excitedly about the reports from her mission. When the kettle whistles, she takes it off in one seamless motion, pouring me a cup. She taps the mug with her wand, and I take a sip.
Just the right amount of sugar.