And People Say I'm The Pushy One
It had been nearly two weeks since that awful date that made Hermione give up on love, and though she'd tried to set Hermione up with everyone and anyone she had thought of, Hermione was still resolute in her decision. Lavender knew she was being overbearing. She knew she had practically pointed at every guy in Britain at this point, but she didn't care. Hermione could whine and moan all she wanted, but she had no plans of stopping. She began cornering Hermione every time she saw an opportunity, whether that was on the early mornings before Harry and Ron invaded their flat to steal food from them (or on the few times Neville popped in to quickly vent about how dull Hogwarts was without them) or during their outings where it was just the two of them without the boys.
Only, Lavender had rapidly run out of errands to drag Hermione to. She didn't need to be in Diagon Alley for the sixth time this week. Crookshanks and Willow already had cat food for the rest of the year, they had bought three sets of extra quills and ink, and their fridge was still not closing properly with how full it was, even with Ron and Harry coming around every day! Hermione was getting suspicious, and worse, Lavender wasn't sure they'd be able to make next month's rent with how much money they had spent.
And yet they were still there, walking aimlessly around the street as Lavender pointed at the seventh guy today.
"Look at him, he's pretty cute," she said, immediately regretting it once she saw him picking his nose when he thought no one was looking.
"Classy," Hermione scoffed.
"Well, what about him?" Lavender asked desperately. This guy was older. Much more mature-looking. She couldn't even call him a guy, he was a man, definitely older than them, wearing classy robes, with a well-kept beard and a dazzling smile that made Lavender question why she was still trying to convince Hermione to go after him instead of trying herself.
"I don't know…" she trailed off, biting her lip lightly. "He's too old," she eventually said, shaking her head and pulling her forward in a rush as they walked beside him.
"Oh, come on, Hermione," Lavender held back a smirk, knowing she had almost had Hermione take the bait. "He's practically your dream man. You know you're going to be dreaming of him later tonight."
"Well, as long as he stays in my dreams then it won't be ruined," Hermione said primly.
"Hermione…" She moaned, gripping her arm and trying to get her to change her mind.
"Ugh, Lav," Hermione groaned, sighing as she pulled Lavender with her and kept talking. "I appreciate what you've been doing - really, I do - but I meant what I told you. I'm taking a break from guys. No matter how utterly sexy they are," she added as a bitter afterthought.
"But-"
"No buts. Not for a while anyway," Hermione gave a sly smile before going back to herself. "I really mean it, Lav. So can you please honour my wishes and stop this whole matchmaking thing?"
No! Of course not. I'm not giving up, Granger, so get used to it!
"Fine," Lavender said out loud, even as her mind continued her machinations. "Alright, I'll stop. I promise."
"Great," Hermione gave her a relieved smile. "Now let's just get this over, so we can go home. What did you say you need?"
"Err…" Lavender trailed off and Hermione raised a disapproving eyebrow.
"WOOO! GO RON!" Hermione screamed at the top of her lungs, the Chudley Cannon's VIP box shaking as everyone got up and cheered after Ron's last-minute save. Her cries weren't the loudest in the room, but they weren't far from it. Still, her legs were sore, and she was growing tired of the endless game. She was one of the first to plop back down on her seat, leaning against Harry's shoulder the moment he joined her before twisting her neck upside down until she was looking up at his eyes.
"I'm glad you found yourself a comfy pillow," he drawled in that sardonic tone he always reverted to. "Should I ask someone for a blanket? Maybe some earmuffs?"
"Come on," she whined, uncaring that she sounded more like the eleven-year-old firstie she was when she met her best friend rather than the proper, professional young woman she liked to present herself as. "It's been five hours already. Can't the other team just give up already? It's not like they're going to win, they're four-hundred points behind!"
Her comfy pillow shook as Harry chuckled. "Who knows, give them five more hours, and it might get more interesting."
"Don't you dare even think that!" Hermione nearly growled. She wasn't sure she'd be able to take another hour without killing anyone, much less five. "The last time you made one of your stupid predictions I didn't even make it home before having to go to work."
"And Trelawney said I'd never make it as a seer."
Hermione's shoulder slap didn't do anything to wipe that smug smirk off his face.
"Come on, Hermione, it isn't that bad," Lavender said impishly from beside her. "At least most of the players are good to look at."
She was going to kill Lavender, Hermione decided. If she had to endure one more stupid hour of this stupid game, she would have found her victim. It was bad enough that Lavender spent a week forcing her out of their flat during the few free hours she had after leaving the Ministry, but now she had adopted this hopelessly unsubtle strategy of simply pointing out every cute guy they saw and just leaving it like that. It was making her go mad. Not because she was still being kidnapped for useless errands, but because of her friend's pathetic attempts to get her to go and snog any guy who brushed past her. It was like being slowly tickled to death, a small annoyance that quickly turned unbearable.
"If I wanted to waste my time looking at them, I'd buy their posters and stare at them from the comfort of my bed," Hermione said snottily.
"And have an even more pathetic love life than Harry?" Lavender asked.
"Oi!" Harry snapped.
"It's true," Neville shrugged, patting Harry's leg sympathetically. Harry turned to him, looking like he had a thousand sarcastic retorts at the tip of his tongue but held back.
"I know, but still. I didn't say anything!"
"You should just go in there and catch the snitch for those idiots," Hermione nudged Harry's shoulder, trying to change topics. "You were always good at catching the stupid marble back at Hogwarts."
"Yeah, but that was Hogwarts," he scoffed, eying her like she was a little girl who didn't know how to crawl. "Professional Quidditch is completely different. It's not like Ginny just decided to quit playing and instead become an analyst because the competition was lacking."
"My, you do know how to charm a lady, don't you, Potter?" Ginny asked from behind them, a couple of the Weasleys glaring at Harry for putting his foot in his mouth for the millionth time today.
"Kill me. Kill me now," he whispered at her. "Put your wand in my mouth and blow my brains out, will you?"
"And let you drool on my wand?" Hermione scoffed, grinning up at him. "Use your own."
Thankfully, the game only lasted forty minutes more before the Tornados' seeker caught the snitch. Not that it mattered because the Cannons ended up winning anyway, but at least Ron got to have a couple more moments to shine. Hermione knew how much being out there, playing the game, and being the star of his team meant to her friend. And though sometimes too much Quidditch got to her skin, she couldn't help but feel really proud of Ron. It was hard for her not to smile as she saw him walking towards them, a boyish smile on his face before he hugged the four of them.
He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, the adrenaline from the game still in his system as he gushed about his saves and their first victory of the season. How this would actually be the time they managed to win the Cup, and Ron would be there to make sure of it. It was in these moments that it was hard for Hermione not to look at him and see the young, fourteen-year-old boy celebrating his first-ever game with Gryffindor back during their Hogwarts games. He was still just as ebullient and buoyant as he used to be. Hermione didn't think Ron would ever really grow up, and in her mind, it would be a tragedy if he did.
As long as Ron remained this silly, overgrown boy inside she could still cling to the bossy, excitable little girl she used to be. He always made her realise she shouldn't be in such a rush to grow up, and Hermione would be forever thankful to him for that.
Eventually, Ron moved on to celebrating with his family. The red-headed family was loud and cheerful on a normal day, but seeing Ron out there, winning his first game on the team he'd followed for his entire life made them even more euphoric than even Ron himself. With the family shouting and celebrating on their own, Lavender sneaked beside Hermione and pulled her away from Neville and Harry.
"I know you're not dating anymore, but I still need my wingwoman," Lavender said matter-of-factly, eying a group of Ron's teammates who didn't seem to have any girls with them before positioning them to be perfectly in their sight.
"Lavender…" Hermione trailed off testily.
"What?" She responded innocently, grabbing Hermione's hands and giving her an almost pleading look. "Just because you've given up on love doesn't mean I have."
"I haven't-"
"Well, then, perfect," Lavender said smugly and Hermione groaned. "Look, you don't have to date anyone. I just need someone to talk to while I get one of them to come over."
"How do you even know one of them's coming over?" Hermione raised an eyebrow at her, to which Lavender shook her head with an incredulous look. "Fine," Hermione rolled her eyes. "But you're not roping me into a date, Brown."
"I wouldn't dream of it."
Lavender proved to be right, as was usual when it came to guys, as two of Ron's teammates walked over to them only ten minutes later. The two men, Justin Davis and Heath Shore, introduced themselves, asking if they enjoyed the game, and quickly built a conversation around that. Knowing her friend and the type of guys she dated, Hermione focused on Davis as Lavender slowly flirted with the other player. And to her surprise, she found herself in a rather interesting conversation about the many behind-the-scenes politics to Quidditch that most people - including her - weren't privy to. For a Quidditch player, the man was very eloquent with his words, having a broad vocabulary and various interesting perspectives she had never heard from Ron or any of the other players she had known throughout the years.
And the worst thing was that she didn't even know how she got there. She remembered being slightly bored, hearing the two of them drone on about Quidditch and the standings, and then Lavender and Heath had pulled apart slightly, and she was discussing next year's World Cup in Egypt and all the international squabbles that were growing because of the completely different expectations of each country had.
Ooooh she was going to murder Lavender. It was like the man knew just what to say, attacking her with fun facts or small jokes that kept her interested and laughing. Before she knew it her eyes began straying, picking up on that enticing, charming smile. The strong jaw with hints of a stubble. His wild, black hair that Hermione was sure made Lavender jealous because of how soft and wavy it looked. Most of all, she began to pick up on how musky and inviting he smelled. It was getting especially hard to ignore as he began to get closer and closer ever so subtly.
No. No. She wasn't going to date. No, sir. Sure, she had been frustrated that night and just said that without really meaning to. But the moment Lavender began her annoying crusade to not give up on dating she had decided to stick to her guns. Hermione had made up her mind and would not be tempted by the increasingly alluring specimen in front of her. She would not lose.
Damn you Lavender Brown!
She lost track of time as the conversation kept going, and Hermione was sure she would have stayed there had Lavender not pulled her back towards their friends with a promise to the guys that they'd keep in touch. Incredibly miffed already, the fact that she had to pretend to be ambivalent about the interruption only served to put her in a worse mood. And then there was Lavender's smug smile.
"You liked him didn't you?"
"He was fine," she responded tartly.
"You liked him," Lavender singsonged before skipping away towards Harry and Neville. The coward.
"I tolerated him," Hermione whispered in her ear once she caught up with her friends. "He was fine. I was just helping you out. It meant nothing."
"Sure it didn't."
"Do you see me swooning?
"I don't think any one of us has ever seen you swoon," Neville broke in.
"What are you two talking about anyway?" Harry asked.
"Hermione just met the love of her life," Lavender said proudly.
"No, I didn't."
"Which one is it?" Neville asked, the entire group turning towards the two players who had returned to the others.
Hermione blushed when she noticed Justin was looking at her and quickly turned away, ushering her friends to do the same.
"The tall one with the stubble," Lavender answered.
"Wo-ho-how!" Harry whistled, turning to look back at Justin. "Wow!" He genuinely looked like he was about to swoon when his eyes landed on Hermione. "If you don't want him, can I have him?"
The three of them turned to him, eying him in disbelief.
He blinked, absently moving a hand over his hair. "I'm not gay, I swear."
"Are you going to owl him?" Lavender asked, diverting the attention from Harry as she excitedly grasped onto Hermione's hands.
"No!"
"No!?" Harry, Neville, and Lavender asked at once.
"What do you care?" She glared at Harry. "You clearly want him."
"Well, who wouldn't!" He shot back. "I'm not even a girl, and I'd jump at the chance to get a piece of that." Lavender raised an eyebrow at him. "Why do I keep saying things like that!?"
"You need to get laid, mate," Neville patted him on the back.
"It's only been six months, I'm fine. Can we talk about something else, please?"
Hermione could have kissed Harry as that finally got everyone to drop the topic, but she didn't. It wasn't because she didn't want to give the wrong idea to Justin. She just didn't like hugging her friends, that was it. Ron joined them soon enough, telling them that Mrs Weasley was hosting a small party to celebrate and that the four of them were invited. Ron left and Harry looked at Ginny, who sent him a glare before turning back to whatever Percy was telling her.
"Why did I have to open my big, fat mouth?" He moaned and Hermione snickered. "I swear, one of these days I'm going to be out at dinner where some Italian mafia guy will hear me blabbering about how I use a knife to cut my pasta, and he's going to stab me in the back alley of the stupid restaurant."
"It's just Ginny, you'll be fine," Hermione rolled her eyes.
"You know, you don't have to go," Neville said. "Didn't you say you were meeting for lunch with your father after the game?"
Harry looked like he'd just swallowed a big gulp of spoiled milk.
"On second thought, a party at the Weasley's doesn't sound so bad." He said quickly.
Hermione exhaled and shook her head before a wicked idea crossed her mind. "Wait, does Ginny still fancy that Bat-Bogey hex of hers."
Harry's eyes widened and he quickly took hold of her arms. "You'll defend me, won't you?"
"Defend you?" Hermione snorted, shaking him away as she began walking towards the redheads. "I'll be the one to pin you down."
"I have a date tonight," Harry said haughtily as he stepped into Hermione and Lavender's flat. Picking up the Daily Prophet, he took no time as he sat down beside the girls while Ron went to raid the fridge for his breakfast.
"A date, huh?" Hermione took a sip of her tea. "And people say miracles don't happen."
"Ind pipple siy miriclis din't hippin," Harry mocked her, and Hermione smirked. "Last I checked, you're still on the lonely nun's seven-step program to cleanse thyself of anything remotely fun and sexy."
Hermione stuck her tongue out at him.
"I, for one, am happy to see love blooming," Lavender said sweetly, squeezing Harry's heart in support. "So tell us, who's the lucky woman? What's she like?"
"No clue and no idea. Never met her."
"Yet another one of Ron's famous double dates?" Hermione grinned smugly.
"You… you… yes," Harry sighed and turned towards Ron. "What was her name again?"
Whatever Ron said was muffled by his mouthful of meatballs as he took the seat on Harry's right side with a full plate of Lavender's heated food.
"Ron!" Lavender cried out. "That was supposed to be our dinner!"
"I'm hungry," he whined. "I've got practice in an hour. I need the energy."
Lavender groaned.
"The name, Ron?" Harry prompted.
"Oh," he cleared his throat. "Ethel."
"Oh, perfect. I'm dating a hundred-year-old grandma."
Ron waved him off and swallowed. "Nothing like that. Katy tells me Ethel's great. I think you'll actually enjoy this one."
"Oh, I'm sure she's got a great personality," Harry said sardonically before stealing one of the meatballs on the plate. "This is going to be a disaster, isn't it?"
"And there was a time when I wondered why you never got past the second date," Lavender said with a hint of pity, patting him on the head before standing up and moving to wash the dirty dishes on the sink.
"Wait," Hermione suddenly said. "Tonight? The date's tonight?"
"Yeah," Harry shrugged. "Why? Does it get in the way of our imaginary date I forgot or…?"
Hermione slapped him on the shoulder. "Tonight's the party!" Harry blinked. "Your mother's party? The one she was begging you to go when we saw her at St Mungo's a couple of weeks ago. The one you promised to go to."
"Oh," Harry snapped his fingers in recognition. "The one for her stupid potions book. I'll just send her a letter congratulating her tomorrow or something."
"Harry!" Hermione scolded.
"What? I have a date. She'll understand. I can't cancel on Ron and leave him alone with two beautiful women. Don't you remember what happened last time I did that!?"
A small grin crept up on Ron's face. "This party sounds really important, mate. Maybe you should go."
Harry glared at Ron. He'd been forced to come to the girls' couch that night, and he was not going to let that happen again!
"I thought you said your date was this disfigured, a thousand-year-old woman," Lavender reminded him.
"A hundred-year-old woman, not a thousand. And I never said disfigured! I haven't met her and Ron hasn't either. Maybe her father just chose that name to scare off any boys with a semblance of standards to protect his gorgeous, sexy daughter from the perils of dating."
"Clearly it isn't working," Lavender deadpanned.
"You can't just keep blowing your parents off," pressed.
"Uhh… yes, I can." Harry rolled his eyes. "Watch me."
Hermione opened the door to her building and began forcing herself to climb the steps up to her floor. Over the years, she had come to accept that working in the Ministry and being dead set on climbing up the ranks would be a long, arduous journey. She had faced many long nights before, and she was fine with it. Even as her career faced a glacial pace, and she couldn't find a way to make the big changes she dreamed of before entering the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, she still loved her job and wouldn't change it for anything.
Except maybe competent, non-bigoted peers who just wanted to finish off their work as quickly as possible and go home.
Today was finally the day of her meeting with her boss, Emil Knotts, where she'd be allowed to present her ideas to improve the Werewolf Support Services, making their treatment in the Wizarding World much less restrictive and much more humane. She had spent weeks preparing for this, practising presenting in front of Lavender and crafting various proposals that would start rolling the ball without seeming too abrupt or extreme that they would clash with her boss's less-than-politically correct views on the werewolves of Britain.
Of course, everything had gone horribly wrong almost immediately, with her boss shooting down all of her ideas before she could finish, berating her for wasting her work time on something as absurd as this, and reminding her what her place and duties inside the Department actually were. Hermione had tried to be civil, she really had, but the meeting ended with a rather loud disagreement where she questioned her boss's character and ineptitude, all but calling him an idiot for rejecting her ideas without considering how much more practical they were than the current systems in place regardless of the fact that they gave more freedom to werewolves or not.
She hadn't been fired, thank God, but her boss had gleefully taken this as an excuse to give her a load of work that forced her to stay a couple more hours than she normally did. Her emotions were all over the place, she still felt incensed at everything that had happened in the meeting, and worst of all, her entire body felt sore and exhausted at the same time. She just wanted to get home, take a long hot shower, and climb to bed as quickly as possible.
Unfortunately, as she opened the door to her flat she quickly realised that wasn't going to be the case. Rather than finding a dark, empty, room, Lavender was already there, anxiously waiting for her to arrive. And she wasn't alone. She felt like she was just slapped in the face. All the anger from earlier flared in a cold fury as she stared her friend down, trying to ignore the two Quidditch players who were currently sitting on her couch.
"Good evening, Lavender."
Lavender knew she was in trouble, she instantly jumped up and rushed towards her. But Hermione didn't think Lavender realised just how in trouble she actually was. "Alright, look, I know you're going to be pissed but just try to hear me out first. I know you liked him and I know he liked you."
"Lav-"
"It'll just be a little date. Quick and easy. It's not a big thing, really. And I'll be there as well so if you really give it a shot and then want to leave, I'll leave with you."
"Lavender-"
"It's really a win-win situa-"
"Lavender!" She suddenly shrieked, and the two guys in the living room tried to hide their winces. Her friend paled a little, and now Hermione knew she understood just how angry she was. "I've told you like a million times that I don't want this."
"But-"
"No buts," she snapped, lowering her voice so that the guys wouldn't overhear her. "I've had a miserable day at work. The last thing on my mind right now is wasting my time on a stupid date. Especially a stupid surprise date. I'm sweaty. Drained. Overwhelmed. Not in the least ready. And you just bring the guys into our flat and expect me to just say yes just because?"
"Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry. It's just- this was set up a couple of days ago, and I didn't know you'd be late. You never get home late on Thursdays. I was losing my mind when I got home, and you weren't here. And then I had to get ready, and then the guys arrived. They just got here, I swear."
"Lav, just please… Just stop with this, okay? I'm fine. I don't need you to set me up on dates with strangers. Just stop, please. I'm serious this time."
Lavender sighed but nodded. "Okay. This was the last time, I swear."
"Excuse me," a voice spoke from the living room and Justin stood up, somehow looking graceful and ashamed at the same time. "I couldn't help but overhear, and now I feel the need to apologize for my intrusion tonight.
Hermione waved him off. "There's no need. Really. You did nothing wrong."
"Still, I'm sure this little surprise was the last thing you needed tonight. You look exhausted enough as it is."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Already regretting pursuing a date with me?" She asked wryly.
He laughed. "Oh, far from it. I just know what it's like to come home after a hard day wishing nothing more than for everyone in the country to vanish for a few hours." Hermione couldn't help the small smile that spread across her face. "But please, don't blame your friend for this. I was the one who proposed the idea to her, and I'd hate to cause any strife to your friendship for something I did."
"Is that so?" Hermione subtly turned towards Lavender whose face was blank and completely unreadable.
"I'm afraid so," he let the words linger in the air for a second before he began advancing towards them. "I'll be taking my leave now," he told Lavender. "But you and Heath should still go out. Don't cancel your date on our account."
"Are you sure," Heath asked from behind him.
Justin nodded and turned back towards Hermione. "Again, I'm really sorry about this."
"Don't worry about it," Hermione assured him, locking eyes with him as she did. She quickly felt the world fade around them, something in his cinnamon eyes grabbing her, pulling her, making her feel like she was falling and getting sucked into them at the same time. And then he broke the connection, giving her one of those smiles as he walked past her and headed for the door.
Hermione felt herself be pushed back into her body. Could feel the tiredness dim, if only slightly, as her heart began beating faster and faster. "Justin," her mouth abruptly called out, surprising Hermione herself. She turned to find him at the door, looking at her questioningly. "Saturday," she said. "I'm free on Saturday if you still want to go out by then."
His entire face lit up and Hermione felt those intoxicating butterflies in her stomach. "I'll pick you up at eight."
And then he was gone, walking away from her before she could change her mind, making Hermione wonder how she was going to be able to relax and sleep when her entire body suddenly felt fully waked-up and hyperactive. Lavender was grinning ear-to-ear, and though Hermione couldn't see Heath behind her, she just knew he was smiling too.
"You're not off the hook," she hissed at Lavender, trying to use her most irate tone. But even that didn't work to wipe the smile off her face.
The Burning Phoenix was the most pristine country club in Britain. Harry's earliest memories were inside its massive grounds, having been coming here regularly well before he even stepped foot inside Hogwarts. It had everything Harry could have ever dreamed of, a large fancy restaurant where he could eat whatever he wanted, and the bill would go straight to his father, various pools and playgrounds where he constantly hung out during the weekends when he'd come with his parents. There were even various Quidditch pitches and flying areas where he perfected his techniques to prepare for the Hogwarts try-outs.
He didn't come here often anymore, usually only for the weekend brunches with his mother or the few times he'd accept coming for a few drinks with his dad during one of the weeknights. Beyond that, the only other times he came here was when he sneaked Ron in so that the two of them could have a relaxing sauna and massage session. Of course, they'd been caught a few times, but his father always paid the violation fee without Harry having to ask him.
After ignoring his mother and missing her party earlier in the week, he couldn't miss their brunch. Well, he couldn't if he didn't want her to get mad and have her yell at him about how important family time is and how she had raised him better than that. Of course, he always had to swallow all the bitter responses that popped into his mind. His mother was the most hotheaded person he had ever met, he'd had various screaming matches with her over his arrogant sarcasm and how infuriating it was. Harry knew how to pick his battles and he had learned to quickly avoid the ones with his mother.
It didn't matter that family time didn't mean anything when she and his father were going through their divorce, she would always find a way to turn it on him.
And so, resigned, Harry had begged off from going to the coffee shop with the rest of his friends and came to the Burning Phoenix to meet his mother. He'd get to see Neville tomorrow either way, and though Lavender and Ron seemed somewhat miffed about it, Hermione almost apparated him to the country club herself. He walked past the entrance, warmly greeting Leah, the old secretary at the entrance who had been there since Godric Gryffindor was in nappies - or at least that's what the rumours said.
She smiled at him and greeted him back, and Harry quickly moved along before she could trap him in conversation. Descending the stairs to the restaurant, he found most tables empty. While the place was usually full during Saturday afternoons for lunch, it was still too early for that. He quickly found his mother's table, and just as he was about to set off to join her his heart stopped as he saw his father there sitting with her. The two of them were silent, barely looking at each other, and so both their eyes quickly landed on him.
So much for the escape plan, Harry mentally grumbled. His back stiffened, his mind replaying a dozen of their greatest fights as if preparing him for the horrible brunch he was about to have. But he still walked towards them and took his seat on the small table.
"Lily. James." He greeted them. It had been years since he'd called them Mum and Dad. It annoyed them to no end - especially his mother who constantly berated him whenever he called her that - but he was stubborn enough to keep doing it.
"Harry," his father greeted him back, looking weary and depressed, and Harry couldn't help but feel a burst of satisfaction at it. If he was going to have to suffer through this, then everyone else should suffer.
His mother didn't even acknowledge his cold greeting.
"You two do know that there are like twenty free tables, right?" He suddenly said when no one spoke. "We're not exactly crammed and forced to share a single one."
"Your father and I… we have some things we need to talk to you about. Important things." She emphasized, glaring at her ex-husband. "And we need to do this all together."
"No, we really don't," Harry said tartly.
"Harry…" his father trailed off. "Look, we can talk about this later. Let's just try to have a nice brunch, alright?"
"Oh-ho, no," Harry smiled when he really wanted to glare. "No. I think we should do this right now. Rip the bandage off. Hell, maybe we can even just skip the food and be out of here as quickly as possible."
"Harry, it's better we talk-"
"No," his mother broke in. "You want to talk about this, right?" She asked him. "Get this over with so that you can go hang out with your little friends."
"Yeah," Harry rose to the challenge. Screw picking his battles. "Please, let's just get this over. In fact, why not just make it the cliff-notes version, and then we can all be on our way."
His mother laughed bitterly. "Alright. Cliff-notes version? You're cut off. From now on, you won't get a single knut from me or your father. Is that quick enough for you, son?"
