Date: December 14, 2004 (9 am, sharp)
Characters: Roger Davies, Hermione Granger
Location: 33 Alpha Lane
Status: Private
Summary: Roger keeps his appointment-- and makes good on the pastries and the manuscripts.
Completion: Complete
Even though he had to allow extra time, Roger decided to walk to his meeting with Hermione. He was up, anyway, and it was
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Roger walked inside, pausing briefly in the foyer. "Good to see you. I,ah... brought scones. They're still hot, I think." He hoped. Although Hermione didn't seem to have much of an appetite.
As they made their way back toward the kitchen, he placed the box on the table. "Erm. I don't mean to be presumptuous but, why don't you sit? If you point me in the right direction, I could make the coffee. Or tea, if you'd rather."
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When they reached the kitchen, she wrinkled her nose and counted to five to keep from sneezing. Stupid bloody cold. Her nose was beginning to look like the reindeer on the telly with the blinking red nose.
She turned to look at Roger but, before she could tell him that he was a guest and that meant she'd make the coffee, she was hit with a coughing fit. She turned away and covered her mouth, giving in to the urge to sneeze. She summoned her box of tissues and blew her nose before tossing the tissue in the bin. She washed her hands and looked at him with a wry smile.
"I've caught a cold," she admitted reluctantly. "Been walking in the rain too much, I suppose, but it feels nice falling on my face, so I guess it's a fair trade, right? If you don't think me a horrid host, I think I'll accept that offer. Coffee's in the tin there, or there's a few tins of tea in the cabinet there."
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Still on his feet, Roger looked around for some tissues, only to have a box of them float over his shoulder as Hermione summoned them herself. Feeling useless now, he chuckled.
"The rain is pretty relaxing," he commented. "The sounds. And I think it makes things seem a bit sharper, more vivid, to look at. But the cold? Definitely a downside," he added, turning and opening the cabinet she indicated.
Remembering that he should probably put the water on first, he lifted the kettle. Finding it full, he set it back down and switched on the burner.
"So," he began, fishing out tea bags and mugs, "How are the plans for the shop going?"
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"Well, good to know." He put on a relieved expression before looking across at her with mock-dubiousness. "No offense, Granger. But you don't strike me as remotely scary," he joked. It wasn't totally true, though. Those wards had been wicked ( ... )
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