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hermione and tinker

“Why,” said Master Draco, “do you always come here when I’m up to my armpits in preparations for the Christmas Ball?”

Just-Hermione Granger looked around the Ballroom. Tinker wasn’t sure she’d even noticed that Matty was dusting the Yule Log, and Meddle was decorating the Christmas Tree, and Twinky and Turnip were hanging holly from the chandeliers, until Master Draco had mentioned the ball. “Um,” she said. “It’s an annual inspection.”

Master Draco sighed. “All right,” he said. “Tinker, will you make sure that the garlands are straight?”

Master Draco wasn’t one of those wizards who hissed orders like Mister Lucius Malfoy, or cackled threats like Madam Bellatrix Lestrange. Master Draco was polite, and asked house-elves to do things.

“Yes, Master Draco,” said Tinker, with a little bow.

“Come on then, Granger,” said Master Draco. “We’ll use the Library.”

Tinker watched Master Draco walk away with Just-Hermione Granger, his hand hovering behind her back—where she couldn’t see it—and Tinker’s big, round eyes grew even rounder, for Master Draco was almost touching Just-Hermione Granger.

And Tinker had never done anything like this before...

Not ever.

But, when Master Draco led Just-Hermione Granger into the Library, Tinker followed them.


“I believe,” said Just-Hermione Granger, “that congratulations are in order.”

Tinker slipped through the Library door, and closed it without making a sound. Then he tip-toed into the room and, hiding behind a chair, peeped over the arm rest at his young master and his visitor.

They were sitting on the big sofa by the fire. Just-Hermione Granger was pulling sheets of parchment out of her leather satchel, and piling them on the low table in front of them. “I mean congratulations on your engagement, Draco,” she said.

“Oh... Yes. Thank you,” said Master Draco.

“She’s very beautiful.”

“What do you want me to sign?” said Master Draco.

“Well... There’s the usual Statement of Good Health, the Stipend Agreement, and an Acknowledgement of Rights,” said Just-Hermione Granger, “for each house-elf.”

Master Draco summoned a quill and inkwell; he dipped the quill in the ink. “All in triplicate,” he said.

“A copy for you, a copy for me, and one for the archives.”

Master Draco signed the first sheet with a flourish. (Tinker had always admired Master Draco’s lovely hand writing).

“Don’t you want to talk to them?” said Master Draco. “Ask them what they earn? See that they’re not being exploited?”

“No, of course not,” said Just-Hermione Granger. “I trust you, Draco.”

“That’s not what you said in Paris,” said Master Draco. He looked up from the parchment, and stared at Just-Hermione Granger, and Just-Hermione Granger stared back.

“That’s all in the past, Draco,” said Just-Hermione Granger, at last. Tinker noticed that she had turned pink.

“Is it?”

“You’re engaged now.”

“That’s Father’s doing, not mine.”

“It’s still binding, Draco.”

“I don’t even like her.”

“Well... In time, you’ll grow to love her.” Just-Hermione Granger bit her lip. “Isn’t that what they always say?”

They,” said Master Draco, “have never heard Astoria Greengrass laugh.”

Just-Hermione Granger pulled back her cuff and consulted something attached to her wrist. “I need to be at the Notts’ by eleven.”

“I’m not asking you to marry me, Granger,” said Master Draco, and Tinker swallowed a gasp. “Just—just don’t be a stranger—don’t let it be that the only time we see each other is when you come on a house-elf inspection. We could meet sometimes, in Muggle London—”

“That, Draco,” said Just-Hermione Granger, “would be infidelity.” She sniffed, and Tinker noticed that her eyes were suddenly very big, and bright. “I have to go now. Have you finished with those documents?”

Master Draco signed the final sheet, and handed the pile back to Just-Hermione Granger. “You know the way out,” he said.


Tinker shrank back behind the chair. He heard Just-Hermione Granger stomp past, wrench open the door and slam it behind her. Then, from somewhere else in the Library, he heard a loud crash, and he stretched up on tip-toe, and peered at Master Draco.

Tinker’s young master was sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands. He had overturned the table, and ink was pouring from the fallen inkwell and spreading across the rug.

Tinker knew that he should deal with the stain straight away, before the ink had time to sink deep into the pile...

But instead, throwing caution to the winds, Tinker Apparated back to the ballroom with a quiet pop.


Just-Hermione Granger was crouching before the fireplace, taking leave of the other house-elves.

“Matty,” said Matty excitedly, “is shaking hands with Miss Hermione—”

Just Hermione—”

“—Just-Hermione Granger, like a witch!”

Emerald flames flared up behind them, and a young lady stumbled from the fireplace, tripping over the Yule Log and tottering on her long, thin legs like a new-born foal. She glared at Just-Hermione Granger. “That stupid thing is in the way! And so are you!”

Tinker watched Just-Hermione Granger gather Matty and Meddle into her arms to make room for Miss Astoria Greengrass to pass.

And he was guiltily pleased to see Just-Hermione Granger look daggers at Miss Astoria Greengrass’s back.


That night, Tinker lay awake, thinking.

By the morning, he had a Plan.


Tinker and Meddle crept up to the door of the Morning Room.

Standing on Meddle’s shoulders, Tinker slowly turned the doorknob and opened the door a fraction.

There was no sign of Mrs Lucius!

The two house-elves slipped inside.

They found the invitations stacked in a neat pile on Mrs Lucius’s writing desk. Meddle drew the stopper from the inkwell and dipped Mrs Lucius’s best quill in the ink. “What does Tinker want Meddle to write?” he asked.

Meddle was an expert at signing Mrs Lucius’s name, but it had taken Tinker almost an hour, describing the horrors the house-elves could expect if Miss Astoria Greengrass became mistress of Malfoy Manor, to persuade Meddle to help.

“Put ‘To Miss Just-Hermione Granger’,” said Tinker. “Then,”—and this was the master stroke it had taken him all night to think of—“on the back, write, ‘Mrs Lucius Malfoy would like to discuss a donation to the S.P.E.W. with Miss Just-Hermione Granger,’ and sign it, ‘Mrs Lucius Malfoy’. That,” he assured Meddle, “will make her come.”

Slowly and carefully, Meddle inscribed the words. Then he addressed an envelope and, together, the house-elves melted some wax, and sealed it with Mrs Lucius’s monogrammed seal.

“Tinker will take it to the Owlery,” said Tinker, disappearing with a pop.


“Do cheer up, darling,” said Mrs Lucius to Master Draco.

Tinker levitated Master Draco’s plate away. Master Draco hadn’t touched his breakfast.

“Tonight’s a big night,” said Mrs Lucius. “Your first official function with your fiancée. Everybody who’s anybody will be here, darling, and there’ll be reporters and photographers from all the newspapers—you must charm them, Draco—am I not right, Lucius?”

Mister Lucius Malfoy grunted an unintelligible reply from behind the financial pages of his newspaper.

Master Draco stood up, pushing his chair aside noisily. “I’M DOING IT, AREN’T I?” he shouted as he headed for the door. Tinker shrank back, out of his way. “DON’T EXPECT ME TO PRETEND I LIKE IT!”


By eight-thirty, everything was ready—hundreds of candles were floating beneath the ceilings, and the garlands were twinkling with fairy lights. The Christmas Trees were glittering with everlasting snow. And, in the Minstrel’s Gallery, a group of Squib musicians were playing carols on sackbuts and cornets...

People had started arriving.

Mrs Lucius fetched Mr Lucius Malfoy from the Study and, together with Master Draco—who looked, Tinker thought, as though he’d just shut his ears in the oven door—and Miss Astoria Greengrass, they lined up in the Entrance Hall to greet their guests.

The house-elves, wearing little white collars and green bow ties specially designed by Mrs Lucius, waited at the end of the line to hand out glasses of Blackberry Imperiale as people passed into the Ballroom.

Just-Hermione Granger arrived punctually at nine. She was wearing a dress of pure white... stuff, tight and sparkly at the top, loose and floaty at the bottom; she’d darkened her eyes, and reddened her lips with something glossy; and her normally... full hair cascaded down her bare back in pretty curls spangled with tiny white flowers.

Tinker thought she looked lovely; he glanced at Master Draco.

Master Draco looked as if someone had just given him clothes.

“Thank you so much for inviting me,” said Just-Hermione Granger to Mrs Lucius. “I’m so looking forward to discussing the donation with you.”

Mrs Lucius looked surprised, and Tinker spotted a possible flaw in his Plan.

“We have lots of projects under way,” said Just-Hermione Granger. “The At Risk Register, the Holiday Cover Service, the dedicated Elfish Wing at St Mungos, the Golden Years Retirement Home... And, of course, we’ll acknowledge your contribution by displaying your name prominently—”

“Perhaps we can talk later,” said Mrs Lucius, tactfully.

“Of course,” said Just-Hermione Granger.

Tinker let out a sigh of relief, though he made a mental note to shove his fingers in the knife drawer once the ball was over.


Tinker waited anxiously to put part two of his Plan into action. When he overheard Miss Astoria Greengrass tell Master Draco that she was going to ‘pop upstairs to the little girl’s room’, Tinker nodded to Meddle and Turnip.

Meddle approached Master Draco with his speech rehearsed and ready.

Turnip stationed herself at the bottom of the stairs.

Tinker himself went up to Just-Hermione Granger. “Oh dear,” he lied—having already punished himself in preparation—“Matty has gone into the Morning Room.”

Just-Hermione Granger frowned. Then, gathering her skirts, she crouched down beside him. “Why has she done that, Tinker?” she asked.

“Matty thinks she has offended Just-Hermione Granger,” said Tinker. “Matty is going to put her head in the fire.”

“What? No!” Just-Hermione Granger scrambled to her feet. “Take me to the Morning Room, Tinker! Hurry!” She held out her hand.

Tinker deduced that Just-Hermione Granger meant him to grasp it.

It was warm and pleasantly dry.


Just-Hermione Granger burst through the Morning Room door like a Deprimo Spell. “Draco!” she cried. “Where’s Matty?”

“Matty?” Master Draco frowned. “What are you—”

“Tinker said...” Just-Hermione Granger turned round, looking for Tinker, but Tinker had already run across the room and hidden himself in one of the bay windows. He peered out through the gap between the curtains.

“There are no house-elves in here, Granger,” said Master Draco. “And nor—despite what Meddle told me—is my father in here, knocking back the Firewhisky.” (Tinker was particularly proud of that lie). Master Draco sighed. “I’m so glad to see you here tonight, Granger, but... Well... I suppose I’d best go and make sure that Father is okay—”

“Your mother invited me,” said Just-Hermione Granger.

“Mother did?”

“Yes. She wants to donate—o-ow!”

Silently, Tinker tapped his head against the window frame. Conjuring a mote of dust in a witch’s eye would normally warrant severe punishment but, in this case, there were extenuating circumstances—what Mr Lucius Malfoy liked to call ‘The Bigger Picture’—to consider.

“What’s wrong?” said Master Draco. He sounded concerned.

“Something in my eye...” said Just-Hermione Granger.

“Come here,” said Master Draco. He grasped her shoulders and guided her beneath the chandelier, coaxing her to turn her head so that the light fell full upon her face. “Let me... It’s all right... Yes, I can see it...” He drew his wand. “Now, just keep absolutely still...”

“Oh,” gasped Just-Hermione Granger, “oh, Draco!”

“Let me—no, don’t rub!”

Tinker held his breath. Timing was crucial! But then his sensitive ears caught the clack-clack of Miss Astoria Greengrass’s silly shoes approaching, and he knew that Turnip had delivered her message as planned.

Genero viscum album,” whispered Tinker.

A sprig of mistletoe appeared above the couple’s heads, just as the Morning Room door opened.

“It feels huge,” whimpered Just-Hermione Granger.

“Stop rubbing it,” said Master Draco, breathlessly—

DRACO!” screeched Miss Astoria Greengrass—

Accio leniter,” murmured Master Draco.


“I’m telling you, Astoria,” said Master Draco, “that I was just getting a bit of dust out of Granger’s eye!”

Another flaw in Tinker’s Plan, Tinker realised, was that it had left Just-Hermione Granger looking like a Blast-Ended Skrewt with a head cold. Tinker murmured a quick charm and, although Just-Hermione Granger looked momentarily stunned, once that had passed, she was back to being pretty again.

“Then tell me why she looks like she’s just walked out of Madam Malkin’s Beauty Parlour,” demanded Miss Astoria Greengrass. “And why she was going on about the size of your thing?”


Tinker wondered what thing Miss Astoria Greengrass was referring to...

“I heard her, Malfoy! ‘Oh, it’s huge! Let me rub it for you!’ Well don’t let it go to your head, mister, because she’s obviously not seen that many!”

Master Draco turned a peculiar shade of red, and it looked as if he were having trouble deciding how to reply. “If you’ve seen lots of others, Astoria,” he said, at last, “you’ll know that mine is well above average.”

“Please,” said Just-Hermione Granger, “this is all a misunderstanding—”

“Do you think I’m thick, lady?” said Miss Astoria Greengrass.

“Um...” said Just-Hermione Granger.

“Astoria,” said Master Draco, “I have a bottle of Veritaserum in my potions workshop. I’m perfectly willing to swallow a dose of it, if that’s what it’ll take to convince you.”

Miss Astoria Greengrass opened her mouth to answer him, but then she seemed to change her mind, and closed it again. She thought for a few moments. Then she said, “Theo Nott has asked me to run away with him. It seems it took our engagement to make the poor lamb’s mind up.”

Master Draco glanced at Just-Hermione Granger; Just-Hermione Granger shrugged. Both of them looked perplexed.

“So?” said Master Draco.

“So,” said, Miss Astoria Greengrass, “he’s richer than you, and his family name’s not so tarnished and, though he may not be as good in bed as you are, he does dote on me...”

“As I’ve just said,” said Master Draco, “so?”

“Running away with Theo really doesn’t appeal to me,” said Miss Astoria Greengrass. “I want a big society wedding—the sort your mother was organising.”

“You want Draco to take the blame for a breakup,” said Just-Hermione Granger, “so that you, as the innocent party, can still have a big ‘do’ with Theo Nott.”

“Give the woman a pumpkin pasty,” said Miss Astoria Greengrass.

Tinker watched anxiously. Things were no longer going quite according to his Plan but, as far as he could see, the outcome was likely to be the same...

“Fancy another trip to Paris, Granger?” said Master Draco.

And to both Tinker and Master Draco’s astonishment, Just-Hermione Granger ran from the room in a flood of tears.


Tinker hid behind the curtains, his big eyes brimming, his huge ears drooping.

At the last minute, his Plan had gone so wrong—Just-Hermione Granger had run away and, although Master Draco had chased after her, he’d returned moments later to announce that ‘she’d disappeared into the Floo’ and, since then, Master Draco and Miss Astoria Greengrass had been sitting side-by-side, in silence...

“If you want to break off the engagement, Astoria,” said Master Draco, suddenly, “you’re more than welcome. But you’ll have to find another excuse.”

“I could catch you shagging someone else—”

“And doubly offend Granger? ‘I wanted you, honest, but you’d run away and—well, you know me—I just can’t keep it in my trousers!’ She’d never have me after that.”

Tinker huddled behind the curtains.

“Go and talk to her,” said Miss Astoria Greengrass. “Persuade her.”

“Granger would never be involved in anything dishonest or disreputable,” said Master Draco, shaking his head. “And I should never have assumed she would—that’s what upset her so much.” He sighed. “Maybe she isn’t the woman for me, after all.”

“No,” said Miss Astoria Greengrass, sarcastically. “That’s why you don’t shout out her name.”

Master Draco was silent for a few moments. Then he said, “Run that by me again?”

“You shout out her name, Draco. When you’re coming.”

Tinker’s ears shot up. Suddenly, he had Another Plan. He didn’t know where Master Draco had been coming from, but he did know where Tinker was going to.


Just-Hermione Granger squealed, grabbed a towel, and clutched it to her chest; Tinker yelped, clamped his hands over his eyes, and—for good measure—turned his back.

“What are you doing here?” said Just-Hermione Granger.

“Tinker needs to talk to Just-Hermione Granger,” said Tinker. “It’s urgent.”

“Yes... Well... All right,” said Just-Hermione Granger. “Go and wait in the lounge. I won’t be long.”

Tinker immediately Apparated to the ‘lounge’ and found himself a sofa to sit on. It was big and soft and flowery, and piled high with cushions, so he sat on the very edge of the seat, with his feet dangling and his hands clasped in his lap.

Tinker looked around.

Just-Hermione Granger’s home was small and very... colourful—there were silk hangings on the walls, and patterned rugs on the floor, and piles of books everywhere; the windows were decorated with curtains of golden stars, the doors with wreaths of holly, and the table with a cluster of red candles. Tinker decided he liked it. It was warm and friendly, like Just-Hermione Granger herself.

Just-Hermione Granger came in wearing a big, fluffy housecoat, and sat down next to him. “Now,” she said, kindly, “what can I do for you?”

“Master Draco isn’t happy,” said Tinker, having decided that—where a subtle and cunning Plan had already failed—honesty was probably the best policy.

Just-Hermione Granger looked confused, so Tinker kept talking: “Master Draco says that Just-Hermione Granger’s the only woman for him, and Miss Astoria Greengrass says that Master Draco calls out Just-Hermione Granger’s name whenever he comes—from somewhere—”

Tinker noticed that Just-Hermione Granger’s face and neck had turned very red, but he gabbled on: “And if Miss Astoria Greengrass marries Master Draco, and comes to live at Malfoy Manor, Master Draco will be so unhappy, and he’ll—he’ll—he’ll get all bitter and twisted, and—”

Tinker realised that he was sliding down an extremely slippery slope, and began beating his head against the arm of the sofa (though the arm of the sofa was very soft).

“Tinker!” Just-Hermione Granger seized his head and, gently, held him still. “You don’t need to do that, Tinker; not in here! Here is a special place, where house-elves can say whatever they think and feel without having to punish themselves.”

Tinker wasn’t sure he really believed Just-Hermione Granger but, just in case it was true, he said exactly what he was thinking and feeling: “Just-Hermione Granger must marry Master Draco.”

“That would never work, Tinker,” said Just-Hermione Granger. Then she murmured, to herself, “Paris showed me that.”

Tinker had heard Master Draco mention Paris, in the Library. “What happened in Paris, Just-Hermione Granger?” he asked, curiously.

Just-Hermione Granger sighed. “Your Master Draco,” she said, “invited me to an exhibition of ancient Portkeys, at the Musée de la Magie. And it was wonderful, Tinker.” Tinker noticed that Just-Hermione Granger’s face had become all shiny and bright. “We were there for three days, and we went to Muggle places as well—to the Louvre and the Musée d’Orsay—and Draco was so—so intelligent and interested in things, and open-minded, and—and I thought I’d found my soul mate... We didn’t,”—she’d turned red again—“you know,”—Tinker didn’t know, but he didn’t say anything—“but I think we would have done...”

She gathered Tinker close, and cuddled him. “Yes, I’m sure it would have happened, if his father hadn’t summoned him... I thought at first that his mother must be ill—he was so worried. But no, it was just his father, telling him to dump the Mudblood. I said that if he did, we could have no future together. But he went, Tinker.” She kissed the top of Tinker’s head. “He Apparated me back home, and then he scurried back to his father.”

Tinker could well imagine the spells that would have hit the ventilators if Master Draco hadn’t gone home...

“I couldn’t be with a man,” said Just-Hermione Granger, “who would put his father’s merest whim before me, Tinker.”

“What if Master Draco has changed?” mumbled Tinker, hopefully.

Tinker felt Just-Hermione Granger shake her head. “A leopard can’t change its spots.”

Tinker wasn’t sure how leopards came into it, but he agreed that Master Draco’s changing was a bit of a long shot. “What if Master Draco loves you,” he said.

“Oh, Tinker...!” said Just-Hermione Granger, hugging him tightly.

And Just-Hermione Granger began to cry again.


Tinker awoke to find himself buried in Just-Hermione Granger’s fluffy-covered bosom—

Someone was hammering at the door: “Granger! Granger, open up!”

It was Master Draco! Tinker struggled to free himself from Just-Hermione Granger’s death-hug.

“Mm?” said Just-Hermione Granger. “Wha’?”


“Is that Draco...?”

Mebee Dust-Amyny Grenja shud goan see,” said Tinker, through a mouthful of housecoat.

“Yes... Yes,” she said, releasing Tinker as she swung her feet to the floor and stood up. “I’ll just... Um...”

Tinker watched Just-Hermione Granger disappear through the lounge door, then he slipped behind the sofa, and hid. He heard Just-Hermione Granger open another door.

“Merlin,” said Master Draco, “you look terrible, Granger.”

“Thank you,” said Just-Hermione Granger.

Tinker heard her padding back, with Master Draco behind her, and he quickly muttered his eye de-reddening and nose de-swelling charm. He felt the sofa move as Just-Hermione Granger sat down, heavily.

“Astoria and I have split up,” said Master Draco. “We’ve yet to work out all the formalities, but we’ve agreed it between ourselves. And Astoria’s given me her word,”—he added, quickly—“that you will not be mentioned, and that my name will not be linked to any third-party witch. We’ll come up with some arcane, pure-blooded reason for the breakup—maybe you can help us find an ancient curse or something...”

Just-Hermione Granger said nothing. Tinker peeped round the sofa. Just-Hermione Granger’s arms were folded across her chest, and her face, despite Tinker’s charm, still looked like a very grumpy potato.

Tinker crawled back to safety.

“What about your father?” said Just-Hermione Granger, at last. She sounded even crosser than she looked.

“What about him?”

“Draco! I told you in Paris! We can’t have any sort of relationship if I don’t come first with you, and you don’t come first with me!”

“And do I come first with you?” said Master Draco.

“Of course you—ohhhh!” Just-Hermione Granger cried out in frustration. Tinker felt her little fists pound the sofa, and he could imagine the smug look on Master Draco’s face.

“Then marry me, Granger,” said Master Draco.

Tinker held his breath.

“No!” cried Just-Hermione Granger. Tinker felt her stand up. “No, Draco! I’m not going to be second best to your mother and father—I’m not going to rank somewhere behind your pure-blood friends! No!”

“Hermione,” said Master Draco.

And Tinker heard true love in his voice, and he sensed that Just-Hermione Granger had heard it, too. There was a long, long silence, then Tinker heard Just-Hermione Granger moan. He crawled out from behind the sofa, and peered over the arm.

Master Draco was kissing Just-Hermione Granger, and—though Tinker didn’t know much about kissing—he could tell that Just-Hermione Granger was enjoying it. And, as Tinker watched, Master Draco lifted Just-Hermione Granger into his arms, and carried her out of the lounge and into another room, kicking the door shut behind them.

Tinker hurried to the door and, pressing his one of his big ears to the wood, he listened.

There was no more arguing, just a gentle murmuring, and some sighing, and then a quiet, rhythmic squeaking.

Suddenly, some instinct told Tinker that this was the thing that hadn’t happened in Paris, the thing that Just-Hermione Granger had wanted so much, the thing that made her face light up when she thought about it...

And Tinker Apparated home.


A week later

Tinker dipped his quill in the inkwell, thoughtfully.

Christmas dinner had been eaten, and the family were relaxing—Mister Lucius Malfoy and Mrs Lucius had gone for a walk in the grounds, Master Draco and Just-Hermione Granger were in the Library—all the cleaning up had been done, and—since this was the Season of Goodwill—the house-elves had been allowed to take a few moments for themselves.

Two days earlier, Master Draco had astonished Mister Lucius Malfoy and Mrs Lucius by announcing that he had not only broken off his engagement to Miss Astoria Greengrass but that he was also planning to marry Just-Hermione Granger, move out of the Manor, and live with her in Muggle London.

Mister Lucius Malfoy had threatened to disinherit Master Draco.

Master Draco had told Mister Lucius Malfoy to do his worst.

Then Mrs Lucius had stepped in, and—after persuading Mister Lucius Malfoy to release Master Draco from a Jelly-Legs Jinx, and after helping Master Draco into a chair—she had suggested a compromise: if Master Draco insisted on marrying a Muggle-born, she had said, he must agree nevertheless to raise his children with a full understanding of their pure-blood heritage, and if he and his wife-to-be refused to settle at Malfoy Manor, they must at least live in the house that Mister Lucius Malfoy would buy for them—“Yes, Lucius,” she had said, “buy for them,”—as a wedding present.

Master Draco had—unseen by anyone but Tinker—uncrossed his fingers, and agreed.

Mrs Lucius had immediately owled Just-Hermione Granger to tell her that Mister Lucius Malfoy and she were delighted with Master Draco’s second choice of wife.

Tinker, privately, doubted that that would be the end of it, but he was certain that—whatever happened in the future—Just-Hermione Granger would be more than equal to it. After all, it had been Just-Hermione Granger who’d negotiated Tinker’s Christmas leisure time—and quietly assured him that there would be more to come.

Tinker chewed the end of his quill as he reviewed his Master List:

  1. Mister Lucius Malfoy (according to Just-Hermione Granger) needs to learn to laugh.
  2. Mrs Lucius needs to be taught to ‘let her hair down’.
  3. Master Draco needs to realise that taking Just-Hermione Granger to bed won’t always get him out of trouble.
  4. Mister Harry Potter and Mister Ronald Weasley need to understand that Just-Hermione Granger will not be talked out of marrying the man she loves...

The list was long, but Tinker already had Plans.





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Written for the dhr_advent calendar.
The prompt was elf.