Real Life Sucks

Cooking Up Trouble...

Time has passed. Just thought we ought to warn you. Like, two weeks or something.

Also, updating might be a bit slow. Due to NaNoWriMo, I've only just started writing my chapters again. So I'm a little behind... Anyways, onward!

Chapter 7.

Ernie peered at the shop, then at the piece of paper in his hand. Daphne’s writing was terrible. He shrugged and opened the door. A bell chimed, and a few seconds later a wizened House Elf appeared at the front counter.

“Good morning, sir,” the House Elf squeaked, adjusting a badge that said ‘Dusty.’ “Does sir have a shopping list, or would he like to find his ingredients himself?”

“Uh… well, I would very much appreciate it if you could help me find these things so I can find them myself later if I need to,” Ernie confessed, showing Dusty the list.

“Very good sir,” the Elf announced with a grin. “If sir would follow me please?”

Ernie watched, slightly bemused, as the Elf handed him a shopping basket and pointed out all the items on his list.

The shop bell dinged as someone else walked in.

“Excuse me, sir,” Dusty said, before hurrying back to the front counter. Ernie shrugged, and went back to his list.

“Hello Ernie,” said a familiar voice. He turned to see Susan Bones following Dusty into the main shop area.

“Hey Susan,” he smiled. “How’s life?”

“Fine,” she shrugged. Three weeks into the project, most people already knew their friends’ dossiers. “Not really looking forward to having to cook my own meals though. I’ll probably give myself food poisoning.” Ernie laughed. “How about you? Wouldn’t cooking be more Daphne’s speed?”

“Well, she wasn’t paying very much attention to the teachers in class, so I’m doing the cooking for now,” he confessed. “I don’t mind it, I really liked the classes. But I’m very seriously considering getting a few cookbooks. The one we were given is going to get old fast.”

Dusty cleared his throat. “Does sir still require assistance finding his groceries?”

Ernie jumped. He’d all but forgotten about the old House Elf waiting for him to finish his conversation. “Sorry, yes please. Um… where will I find potatoes?”

—Real Life Sucks—

Hermione growled under her breath as she glared at Ron. He was quite happily making himself at home. In her house. It was bad enough having Ginny living with her. At least Ginny, after a very pointed talk, had coughed up money for food and electricity. But Ron… it was the fourth time in a fortnight he had invited himself to dinner.

Ron grinned at her, oblivious to the many ways she was killing him inside her head. “Thanks for this, Hermione. It was really nice of you to invite me to dinner again.” I didn’t.

She put down the knife, which she had been chopping vegetables with. For this talk, it was probably better she didn't have anything lethal at hand. “Ron, there’s something we need to talk about.” He perked up a little. “I’ve talked to Harry. Every night, you’re either here or at his house. This is why McGonagall made us take two weeks of cooking lessons!” Ron blinked.

“But… I’m really not very good at cooking,” he said, in a tone that suggested this explained it all.

“That does not mean you can skive off Harry and I! We’re on very tight budgets at the moment.”