Who : Neville and whomever
When : October 2st, around 4-5PM
Where : Garden
Rating : G
Summary : Neville has a cold, and starts a barbeque to up the cheer in the house.
Neville groaned and flicked his wand at the pile of sticks he'd built in the garden, underneath the grill he'd filched from the kitchen. He'd resolved not to do anything physically, due
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Comments 13
"Something definitely smells good, Neville." She grinned, starting to walk in his direction.
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She cocked her head in thought for a moment, then shrugged and looked at the sky. "Let's just hope it won't start raining, right?"
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"There's plenty for everyone. While you're here...what do you think of my plant?"
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The smell and the sound of voices drew Rita out into the garden. She'd spent this first day relaxing - finally - from the week of torture. Finally, a proper night's sleep. No longer feeling like she was walking a tightrope. Hard work, she could handle. Pointless, sadistic exercises, she could not.
After that week of hell, being able to enjoy something as simple as a barbecue seemed almost too good to be true.
"That smells fantastic," Rita smiled, emerging from the house and approaching Neville to see what he had cooking on the hot plates. "I call some of that chicken. How are you feeling, by the way? recovering from nearly freezing to death?"
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"Dig in. Everything's almost ready, but I daren't touch it myself, or everyone will have my cold."
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"Pity no one left here is any good at potions," she replied, looking up at him with a wry sort of expression, then back down at the grill. "You should have the fish, at least. Better for you than meat. More nourishing. Plenty of vegetables, too. Somehow, I doubt the alcohol-only diet has been much good for any of us."
She picked up one of the plates he'd set out and extended it toward him. "Chicken for me, please."
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