[The PCD is resting on the kitchen counter when it turns on to the sight of Snape standing in front of the stove, a plate of fish next to him and his wand in his hand. He's affected, he knows he's affected, can feel the very absence of his magic to the very tips of his fingers, but he can't help but try again. So there he is, prodding at the stove
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His father was a Muggle. An abusive muggle who didn't like magic. Do the math if you can manage such a feat with that pea-sized brain of yours.]
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Was there something that you needed help with, Mr. Weasley?
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[Horst grins at him--never mind the slight bruising across the bridge of his nose]
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[Have an eyebrow at that bruise.]
I take it that your brother is done with that plant.
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Oh, yes. He's moved onto bigger prey. I hoped your powers were still in tact; I don't want Alice to know about...this. Ah well.
How are you handling all this?
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[And in answer to Horst's question, the man can just sit there and watch Snape cook without magic. As if he's done it millions of times before. And yes, Horst, some of it is for you.]
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I've made dinner, sir. If you want I can set a plate aside for you?
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Was there anything else?
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