Author's Note: Written for…
Dueling Club Competition. Prompt: "This is Just to Say" by William Carlos Williams (poem)
Take a Prompt, Leave a Prompt. Prompt: humor genre
The Trouble With Plums
Hannah hurried down the stairs as fast as she could go in high heels. Of all days for her alarm clock to die, it had to be on the day of the most important meeting of her life.
She checked the clock before dashing into the kitchen. Fifteen minutes to grab breakfast and head to the Leaky Cauldron to meet with the man who could finance her expansion.
She opened the fridge and reached blindly for the bowl of plums on the top shelf. She'd left them there the previous night, and Neville and Sarah knew better than to touch the clearly-labelled food.
With a pocket full of plums, Hannah apparated to the pub with enough time to get in a few bites before work began.
:-:
The fever only started to set in after the meeting ended, thankfully. That was when Hannah felt the room spin and her barman pointed out how red in the face she looked.
She apparated home and headed for the medicine cupboard just as Neville was coming through the door.
"Are you alright?" he asked, rushing to her side and guiding her to a chair.
"I think those plums might have been bad," Hannah moaned, placing a hand to her churning stomach.
"What plums?"
"The plums I put in the fridge yesterday. I had them for breakfast before my meeting. It's the only thing I've had to eat all day."
Neville frowned. He opened the fridge door and pulled out the bowl, still containing two pieces of fruit. He took one from the bowl and held it up to the light, turning it around in his hand.
"What's the matter?" Hannah asked.
"I was in a hurry this morning so I … I ate your plums."
"But they were there this morning."
"That's what I don't understand." Neville replaced the fruit and picked up the second, examining it too. "I left you a note."
"There wasn't a note when I woke up."
"So sometime between when I left and when you woke up, someone replaced the plums?"
"Is this a bad time?"
The couple looked toward the archway, where their fourteen-year-old stood with a small vial in her hands.
"Sarah," Hannah said menacingly. "Did you do something to my plums?"
The girl half-shrugged, handing the vial to her mother. "Professor Green wanted us to practice our potions over the summer, and I got horrible grades with the fever reducer."
"What did you do to your mother, Sarah?" Neville asked.
"I transfigured some fever fudge into plums. And that's my new attempt at a fever reducer," she said, nodding at the vial in Hannah's hand.
The older witch uncorked the antidote and brought it to her lips. "You better hope this works, missy, or you'll be in even more trouble."