Chapter 3
“You are so overdramatic,” Hermione groaned as she dropped her work bag to the floor with a thunk that indicated it weighed far more than it should. “He was just a handsy jerk. Now we will have to move again. Can’t you smite further away from home?”
“It was justice. He walked the plank.”
“And got torn apart by sharks!”
“They were hungry. Even Sharks have to eat love,” he replied, picking up a pineapple from the extravagant fruit display on the kitchen island.
“They were real sharks? She squealed aghast. “You know that sharks can’t survive in chlorinated water.”
“I would never harm an innocent creature. They were constructs, hungry constructs.”
He picked up a banana from the extravagant fruit display on the kitchen island.
“You used a banana peel. And he only got a headache,” he admonished, gesticulating with the banana.
“Slipping on a banana peel is a classic,” Hermione said, blushing as he laughed at her.
“Classically lame. I love you, but your proclivity for overthinking dampens your creativity when you are in a pinch. It’s a shame because you can be delightfully creative given time to plot. Rita Keeter trapped in a jar for example.”
He put down the banana and picked up a picture-perfect pineapple. Closing his eyes, he took a deep whiff of it before he smiled mischievously and tossed it at Hermione. She waved her wand, pausing it midair before directing it to the kitchen, where she began magically peeling, coring, and slicing it into a bowl while Gabriel juggled a bottle of vodka and a bottle of pink grenadine.
“No rum?" she asked, "I know you like to keep in theme,” she said fondly, rolling her eyes. "Yo Ho Ho and a bottle of rum," she said in a mock deep voice.
“Too obvious and too easy. And not as tasty. We are making Carriabean Sunrises. We will need some pineapple for the rim, and the rest can be juiced,” he said, adding the cocktail shaker to his juggling array.
Hermione removed two rings from the bowl and juiced the rest with a swish of her wand. “I still think it was a bit over the top, a bit overdramatic. Lacking subtlety. Having him walk the plank in suburban Ohio,” she scoffed. “It was also too personal. Dean saw me wearing my pirate hat, he will make a connection. I think we will need some more juice,” she said thoughtfully, summoning a second pineapple and repeating the process.
“He deserved it,” Gabriel said, pouring the vodka and pineapple juice into the shaker. “And subtlety has never been a goal of mine. You know I like a bit of pizazz, a bit of showmanship. I forgot the lime,” he said absently before conjuring a crystal vial of lime juice out of thin to pour in.
“He was a serial stalker, you weren’t the first, and you wouldn’t be the last,” Gabriel said, shaking the cocktail mixer and conjuring them leis before starting to dance towards her, causing her to laugh. “He has hurt other women, one was barely 18, and he tried to hurt you too. I was too angry to think of an urban myth to go with the others, and all I could think of was you in that hat… and only that hat.”
“You are trying to distract me,” she laughed. “I am not a damsel in distress; I can look after myself,” Hermione said, sending a cooling charm at the shaker. She filled two glasses with ice and poured in the pink grenadine.
“Ooh, cold,” he winced, setting down the ice-cold shaker. “You are too kind, all wrapped up in morality. Your way often leaves you injured, and I don’t like it. You are delightfully vindictive in your pursuit of justice, but I maintain you lack a certain flare when you are forced to think on the spot. Leading Umbridge to the centaurs was well-deserved revenge and delightfully appropriate in hindsight but largely unintentional. The way Harry tells it, you were headed toward the nesting ground of acromantulas. He didn’t think you had any plan apart from wandering the forest while you thought of one. You went into the forest blindly, and encountering the centaurs was more luck than plan, and once again, you were in harm’s way and barely escaped their wrath.”
“You are right,” she huffed, “but Dean was there so quickly, and when I told him that McGuire had slipped, transfiguring the paper into a banana peel was my first thought to explain away the fact I had stupefied him, throwing him against the shelves. Such a mess.”
“Mmm,” he said, pulling her in for a hug. “Let me guess, your alias was some alliterative abomination again, wasn’t it?”
“Mia Martin,” she confirmed with a laugh. “We will have to leave now,” she said ruefully into his chest.
“I know. We would have had to move anyway because of the Winchesters. I will just have to get rid of them before we skip town. Maybe somewhere tropical; all this pirate stuff makes me want to be somewhere hot.”
“No! They are just doing their job,” she said pushing him away so she could glare at him.
“They are like wolves with a scent. They will not stop hunting us,” he said regretfully.
“Well, you could let them think they have saved the day, and then we go on vacation,” she reasoned.
"Now that actually sounds like a good trick," he said proudly as he poured in the vodka and juice mix, creating an ombre of sunrise colors. The pink bottom layer blending with the shaken mixture, giving it an orange tint before fading into yellow. He conjured little paper umbrellas to pierce the pineapple wedges on the rim.
“We can have our next Caribbean Sunrise while we watch a Caribbean Sunrise,” he said as they clinked glasses.