With the number of times he had to lick his dried up quill to revive it, Al suspected that his tongue was still ink-stained after the frantic owl exchange with Jamie this morning.
'Yes, I am not home.'
'No, I am absolutely fine.'
'Still at Hogwarts. Could you owl me my Prophet here so I can read it?'
'Yes, he has it delivered, but mine has my name on it. I'd like to read that one.'
It was absolutely exhausting. More than staring up for hours and trying to puzzle out the challenges of refereeing Quidditch on short notice.
How did Jamie sneak a Quidditch wedding reception past him, anyway? Al didn't remember receiving that memo. Or reading it. Or putting it on his schedule. It was on Severus' schedule though, and that was rather useful. Double schedules had less chances of missing events.
We should coordinate our schedules more often, Al decided, with his nose in a mug of decaffeinated, not overly sweet coffee.