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tisdag 8 september 2009

“It’s called irony, Prongs. Delicious irony.”

“You think she would have been better off without you?” Sirius suggested helpfully.

“Safer, surely.”

“Death Eaters were after her long before you came into her life, mate. If anything, she is better prepared for them now because of you, as are the rest of your students. We all live in dangerous times. Complete safety isn’t something anyone, not even a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, can truly give. The best we can give is comfort...”


“Right...” Sirius felt he had made his point the best he could, so to save the conversation from complete unmanly sentimentality he added, “and nothing says comfort like a good prod with the old wand, eh? Just a spot of comfort nookie...” he said with his characteristic wriggle of the eyebrows. James groaned.

“And here I thought you were being...” He stopped himself before saying it but his friend continued the thought.

“Sirius?” he said smiling infuriatingly.

“How can two homonyms be so utterly contrary in meaning?” James complained.

“It’s called irony, Prongs. Delicious irony.”

From Every Other Midnight.

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