"I art joyous, Harry. How be thee?" Hermione said cheerily. Harry looked at her, a little surprised.
"Well, I be a little more sober than you…" he said.
"That's not hard, o greatest knight of mine," Hermione admitted.
"You can say that again," Harry agreed fervently. "Why are you so drunk? It's only one in the afternoon."
"I have come to a declaration," his bushy-haired girlfriend announced resolutely. "No – I be wrong – tis a realisation I have come to," she informed him a moment later.
"What's that?" Harry asked. Hermione smiled and poured him out a glass of Firewhiskey.
"I have found faith," she said portentously.
"Is that a good thing?" Harry asked warily. Hermione had a worryingly SPEW-esque look in her eyes, one that spoke of a crazed fanatic dying to break free.
"It's a happy faith," Hermione reassured him.
"OOH! HAPPY!" Snape squealed, his head momentarily appearing in the fire.
"Hermione…. Hermione, wake up! Stop looking at Snape in that dopily blissful way, because you're scaring me!" Hermione's eyes tore away from Snape's burning visage.
"Remember earlier? I have faith… I have faith that I'll never see anything quite as horrible as that ever again…"