Memory Lane

Chapter 33

"Are you making any progress?" my mother asks politely after we're all seated, and Granger and I exchange a conspiratorial look.

By accident.

Granger fields the question. "Not yet, except - except I guess we are eliminating a fair number of possibilities."

My mother nods seriously. "Draco eliminated what must have been countless possibilities, working hard perfecting the current version of the lotion."

In an impossibly bizarre way coming from my mother, even this sounds dirty. Maybe I'm tired; maybe stress; maybe too long without a shag. I don't know. I close my eyes in the most basic form of defence, trying to avoid thinking of countless experimental... testing to find the best lotion. For testing. Lotion that ended up looking distinctly like bodily fluid.

But I hear Granger muffle a snort and my eyes fly open. She heard it too, then.

My mother is, of course, still giving me a hostile look for being shirtless at the lunch table. I can't help trying to deflect while Granger gets command of whatever it is she's readying to contribute to this.

"It takes a lot of testing, Mother; knowing what works and what doesn't." I know she can see Granger's arm, covered in the same blue ink my entire torso is. "We're being... thorough."

Her lips tighten into white lines. "You could wear a shirt during meals, I'm sure."

"I didn't want to turn any shirts I have blue," I protest innocently. "And I don't want to risk smudging my notes."

"Why must you write all over yourselves, anyway?" Narcissa sniffs.

Granger takes this one, politely explaining, "In case there's a delayed reaction to one of the options we test. Maybe one just has to set for a while before it starts to work."

"Or maybe one is going to slowly eat away our skin altogether; best to know which one it was, after all," I add helpfully.

My mother is immediately concerned. "Has anything like that happened, darling?" She starts inspecting my chest much more closely and Granger suppresses another laugh.

"Mother, please lean back. You're awfully close. This is the lunch table, after all."

She levels me with another nasty look but sits up straight in her chair again, flipping her napkin back over her knee in a dignified manner.

"Nothing like that has happened, yet, I promise. Your precious popkins is still perfect," I assure her and Granger inhales her water, coughing into her hand violently.

"Properly prudent," she gasps when she's able. "Preparing perfunctory possibilities -"

But she can't go on, dissolving into laughter and I'm doubled over. My mother looks somewhat put out at this unexpectedly raucous lunch pairing she's curated, caught between baffled and annoyed.

"Post-pubescent -" I supply with a fresh cackle and Granger's crying at lunch for the second day in a row.

"What on earth could that have to do with anything?" Narcissa snaps, bewildered.

Granger's laboriously getting herself under control. "So- sorry, Narcissa," she manages, wiping her eyes. "Very inappropriate."

"Speak for yourself. I'm the picture of propriety."

This earns me a fresh snort from Granger and a severe look from both of them, shockingly matched. I raise my hands in mock defeat. "Alright, alright. But don't listen to Granger, Mother. She's part of this pair of pathetic perpetrators."