Tracey smirked a bit at being called Miss. It was so typically Theodore to be formal and polite. "She'll be around here soon enough now that she's the topic of conversation." And the scent of food. Without further thought, a plaintive 'mrow' sounded from the doorway as Cassandra climbed up on Theodore's armchair, nearly upsetting the empty transfigured ashtray.
"Oh yes, those just sitting at home, catching up on their knitting, waiting for something more politically enthralling to come their way." Tracey's sarcasm was growing a bit dry. Maybe the problem, and she didn't voice this out loud, was the Minister wasn't enough of a adversary to fight against. "The complacency is disturbing. This isn't war, we're just under siege."
If she knew his thoughts, Tracey would have agreed with Theodore. They'd created their own little world of normalcy. As tainted as it was in those few hours of pretending while they listened to the match. It felt too good to be teased back. "But I'm glad you're here. I like the audience and feel free to shout all the obscenities you like." She handed over his fork with some fanfare and then half the package of fish and chips. And through the speakers of the radio, she could hear the Puddlemere seeker diving after the snitch. "Don't get it!" she yelled, biting hard on her bottom lip in concentration. Not that she wanted them to lose as much as she didn't want her evening with Theo to end.
The first bite of her dinner melted on her tongue. "How is yours?"