"Let's drink our sorrows out with the elves and some eggnog. Or... the one elf and some fire whiskey since there doesn't seem to be any eggnog. Actually, let's lock Kreacher in the cupboard. He's creepy and keeps staring at me."
There was never any eggnog. The thought bitterly crossed his mind as he slammed the door to the icebox shut.
No eggnog, no holiday punch. Nothing to spike and watch as the normally stiff, uppity older members of the Order loosen up. If it was possible, he'd hate this house even more.
Teri's voice filled the kitchen as he rummaged through it ... looking for something festive. Or could past as festive. Didn't anyone keep hot cocoa mix or apple cider in the infernal place?!
Note to Dite, buy him something 'festive' ... that didn't include ugly woolen wearables that itched in places you never knew you had.
Then her words registered and he began to chuckle.
"You lock him up, I'll fetch the centuries old firewhiskey my dear ol' Mum loved so much. Deal?" He replied as he turned to face her, with a waggle of his brows and a wicked glint in his gray eyes.
