"It's almost Thanksgiving," Lisa said, tracing the thin lines of glimmering golden characters on Taylor's bare chest.
"Mmm," Taylor half-moaned and half agreed.
Amy laughed, "They don't celebrate that over here," she said with a shake of her head.
"We celebrate it," Lisa said. She splashed bathwater at Amy.
"Are we going to borrow the kitchens to cook steak and lasagne?" Taylor asked.
"And marshmallow-pineapple-cranberry goo," Lisa agreed.
"The oatmeal helps with the itching a bit, but it's still," Amy ran her hand down the golden characters tattooed on her own arm, "Particularly the elbows."
Lisa picked up her wand, and cast an anti-itching charm for Amy.
"Does Sirius know who?" Amy asked, softly.
"One of the Bones family agreed to carry the baby, and Amelia was always too scared," Taylor paused, "Sirius said they wouldn't tell him until he was of age," she blinked.
Lisa nodded, "So many died."
"Susan and Amelia are all that's left," Amy said, "Do they think it'll be worse if they knew?"
Taylor shook her head, "I have no idea what they're thinking. Maybe Amelia didn't want to risk having to tell her niece that she's actually her mom? Or that she got a boy pregnant in her third year?"
Amy shook her head, "So fucking inconvenient."
Ron sat, quietly, with his homework in front of him, at one of the booths in the kitchen. He was more distracted, looking up and watching them, the elves, Taylor, Lisa, and Amy, cook, than actually doing his homework. He was asking Sarah questions, and slowly working on his potions essay.
Susan Bones, on the other hand, had given up her homework as a bad job, and sat with her chin on her hands, watching the show.
The girls were working from a couple recipes, written on the air over their prep counters in flaming letters. "Another layer of uncooked noodles," Taylor said, "Sauce," she spread it over the noodles, covering them totally, "Meat," she spread a thin layer from edge to edge of the pan, "Cottage cheese mixture," she layered it in thickly, "A last layer of sauce, then the shredded cheese."
"And then we bake?"
"Just like a cake," Taylor agreed.
"375º for an hour is not just like a cake," was the tart reply.
Taylor laughed, "I had a toy, who sang a pizza song, when I was younger."
"You don't bake pizza like a cake, either."
Ron actually laughed at that, then pretended to be working on his essay again.
Ron had finished his homework fifteen minutes earlier, and Amy gave it a quick look over, marked a couple misspellings, "It's toad spleen, not toadstool," she said, sliding the paper over, "Snape'll only take off a letter grade, because what you wrote is correct if it was toadstool."
Ron put his face in his hands and sighed loudly, faked a sob, then peeked between his fingers at Amy, "Should I do it over?"
"Can you swap the toadstool back to toad spleen without doing it all over?"
Ron slumped, thomped his head down to rest on the table, "After food?"
"It should be done in a couple minutes."
A few minutes later everyone was seated around the table with a small slice of lasagne and a piece of steak.
"This is how I like my steak," Amy said, "Just at the point where it's no longer raw in the middle, right when it's turned pink."
"Yes miss Granger," the elves chorused.
"Yes, miss Granger," Susan echoed, almost laughing.
"Why did we invite you here?" Lisa asked her.
"Because you said I might be related to Harry, so," she shrugged, "And you needed victims to vacuum victuals," she paused a moment, "Vicariously," she finished with a smile.
Taylor caught Amy's eyes. Amy nodded, "We have to try, anyway."
Lisa blinked, then smirked, then cackled.
Ron and Susan shared a dubious glance.
"What did they get up to this time?" Quirrell asked, tartly, after McGonagall brought up Granger, Lovegood, and Potter.
"You've noticed the tattoos, I assume?" Sprout asked.
"Yes, more contraceptive wards," Snape said, "It's good to see some people taking precautions before they become postcautions."
"Where did they get them?" McGonagall asked, "I can feel them from across the classroom, they're a little oppressive."
"Sirius Black brought the book in, and I helped them a bit," Pomfrey said, "Some of you might remember the couple months he was sick as a third year."
Snape's lips tightened.
"A story like that would encourage caution," Dumbledore nodded, "Have they needed any murtlap? Wards like that are effective, but dreadfully itchy until they heal."
"They've been getting by with a muggle remedy called an "Oatmeal Bath" and anti-itching charms," Pomfrey said, "And the itching is fading, they said."
"That's good. If the precautions were less intrusive, or had fewer side effects, more students would use them," Dumbledore looked to Snape and Pomfrey, "There was something in the papers a few years ago about a single-year contraceptive potion, did anything come of that?"
"Cramps and puking, apparently," Pomfrey answered, "There's a four-year potion now, but it leaves you sick as a dog for the first and last month. The seven-year potion is safest and has the fewest side effects, provided you don't take it before or too early in puberty," she sighed, "At least the contraceptive wards are strong enough for most of the students."
"And then we bake." "Just like a cake." search youtube for "elmo pizza song" I've heard Elmo sing that soo many times . . .
Amy and Taylor are inspired to show Susan V for Vendetta after her bit of alliteration. Of course the movie didn't come out for another sixteen years, and V's introductory monologue isn't in the comics . . . so that'll take a bit of creativity.
And the author is still out of buffer.