Title: Tea

Author: Gummy Flobberworm

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and events created and owned by J.K Rowling and various publishers. No infringement of copyright is intended.

Summary: SSHG. He makes the tea everyday.

But love is blind, and lovers cannot see/The pretty follies that themselves commit—From 'The Merchant of Venice' by William Shakespeare.

Tea.

It had become a habit. He would always make the tea and every morning she would awake to a cup of tea charmed to keep warm on the table.

She could practically imagine how he did it. Water boiled from the kettle (he insisted that magically-cooked water tasted weird), fresh tea leaves from the tin and half a teaspoon of honey. That was all the sweetening he allowed, since he insisted that any more flavoring would rid the tea of its essence. She had debated against it at first, but in the long run had found out that maybe he was right. An initial bitterness and the slightest hint of a sweet aftertaste. The aroma of the tea would stay in her mouth, taking hours to go away.

The tea was perfect, just like his love was. Not in reality of course, as nothing was perfect.

He was almost always too harsh, with his cutting wit and sarcasm, perhaps because he was far too insecure to even try to be nice. And in their two years together, she had probably never heard a word of direct praise from him. With him, you had to read in between the lines to catch the subtle messages he sent out. But for her, the sweetness of subtle affection lingered much longer then clichéd proclamations of love.

Tea. That was one of the ways he showed his affection. And he had never stayed to watch her reaction. But it was a bit of a habit, a necessity in both of their lives. He would make the tea, and she would drink it.

The bliss in that was indescribable. The cup that stood on the table next to her bed, him knowing that she always started a day with a hot drink, the subtle sweetness of honey that lingered in her mouth.

One day she woke up and choked on something in the tea. She spit it out, half expecting deadly poison, only to find a sparking turquoise ring lying innocently in her palm.

She was stunned for a moment, and then laughed out loud to herself, her laughter echoed by her enclosed bedroom.

That was so typical of him.

And so very perfect too.

Fin