Tracey hesitated but then smiled, grateful, that he'd settle with the meal. Her feelings wouldn't have been hurt. It wasn't as if she'd slaved over cooking it, but she wanted Theodore to enjoy his dinner, though not fussing about it was more than pleasant. "Next time, we'll work out all the details ahead of time. Next time, I might even plan a meal where we have to use plates!" The visual image of Theodore Nott eating his fish and chips out of the paper wrapping almost made her laugh out loud.
If they hadn't been housed Slytherin and Nott wasn't sitting there with a lit cigarette in his hand and looking so remote, she might have leaned in and given him a tight embrace. Not a damn bit of good it would have done and if she'd actually managed it, it would have likely just embarrassed them both, but she worried deeply for her friend. "You know you can find me, day or night, if you need anything." Even if it was to walk home with him after one of those horrible interrogations. She sighed. "The resistance don't realise who they are torturing. The Ministry isn't here, in these shops, in the little flats above them. It's witches and wizards just trying to get by."
She would have went on and on about the injustices but the announcer caught her attention again. "Did he just call that a twirly whatsit?" Tracey was in shock. Her mouth rested open in a surprised little O as she tried to gasp air into her lungs. One of the teams had fouled, but in the roar of the crowd, she couldn't tell which. One of the team members other than the seeker had brushed his elbow against the snitch in an eloquent spiral dive for the quaffle. Definitely a foul. "And that's a twirly whatsit? Holy fuck, you morons! IT'S CALLED A SNITCHNIP!" Tracey was screaming at the radio by then. And luckily, with a puff of dust from the floo, their food arrived.