Canary Memories
Pairing: Hermione/Cormac
Word Count: 530
Written For:
- September Event, prompt: (colour) Canary Yellow
- Speed Drabble, prompts: (dialogue) "You look just like her," (word) Memory, (word) Fight
"Rose, I'm not going to fight with you again!"
"Fine!" Rose finally shrieked, folding her arms across her chest and glaring heatedly at her mother. Her face was as red as her hair, and her brown eyes were glowering menacingly. "I'll go get changed!" she stomped towards the stares, throwing one last dirty look over at Cormac, who was sprawled out on the sofa. "And don't you try and tell me what to do—you're not my dad!" Before Cormac could formulate a response, Rose was soaring up the stairs.
Hermione groaned loudly and rubbed her temples, before throwing herself on the couch beside Cormac. It wasn't the first time that her fifteen year old daughter had come down the stairs wearing either a skirt that was much too short, or a shirt that was far too low cut, and acted as though nothing was the matter when Hermione insisted she wear something more modest. She had started spending the occasional evening during the holidays out with friends, and Hermione didn't want to think of her prowling the streets in those provocative outfits.
She knew that she couldn't get away with it when she spent the other three days of the week at Ron and Lavender's. Her father would probably die from shock if he ever saw her wearing anything like that - and despite Lavender owning items of clothing of a similar variety, she was much too under Ron's thumb to sympathise with her.
Rose always had a knack for testing Hermione's patience, and it was something that only grew when she progressed into adolescence, and wasn't helped by Hermione and Ron's divorce. Rose liked Cormac enough, and Hermione knew that she really had him wrapped around her little finger, but she played the 'you're not my dad!' card whenever an argument sparked. Cormac had just learned to stay out of it.
"What are you grinning at?" Hermione snapped, when she noticed a smirk playing on Cormac's lips.
"You look just like her," he muttered, his voice low so that Rose, who was stomping her feet in the room above, wouldn't overhear. "I don't think I've ever seen the resemblance as much until now."
Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "You mean, Rose and I look alike—when we're shouting at each other?"
"Like twins," Cormac continued, and he leaned over to poke Hermione in the ribs playfully. "Honestly, it's like a weird memory, or something."
"Do you have to?" snapped a voice suddenly, and Hermione and Cormac sprung apart, their cheeks reddening. Rose stood there in the doorway, dressed in an overly large knitted jumper, in a hideous shade of canary yellow. The gigantic orange 'R' emblazoned across the front gave it away as being one of Molly Weasley's signature Christmas presents. She gestured dramatically to her new attire. "Is this better for you?" she snapped, but the shadow of a grin was forming on her face.
Hermione smiled, and Cormac gave her a thumbs-up. "Perfect," they agreed in unison.