Family Recipes for Disaster PV Caradoc Finished

Her eyes narrowed as the fellow head of house spoke. Bringing up one of their first meetings, where she had been enjoying a quiet drink or two in Hogsmeade before his arrival. It quickly became less than quiet - did the man allow silence ever? He had a habit of making things noisier with his mere presence. A glare would hit the side of his face, deepening as she saw a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. It only annoyed her further, "I recall no such thing," Hjørdis replied feigning ignorance, clearly not wanting to admit to it. In her defense, she had worked throughout the evening and pretty much skipped through dinner, drank far too much firewhiskey and was not sober. It was definitely not the most professional introduction to her life.

But she obviously recalled it. Her glare was evidence of it. There was no point in really hiding it - it was clear that both of them recalled the event in question. Hell, most of the pub probably did. The bartender definitely would tease her about it, no doubt. Sigh. Hjørdis pouted slightly, "In my defence, I was drunk." She muttered, still pouting a little.

Calling her out for it, so mean. What a bully! She nodded as he asked about the auror work. He clearly worked it out from whatever information he had, which was not actually much until today it seemed. Quirking an eyebrow as she heard his words, she could not help but smirk a little. Real subtle. Perhaps one of the more classier versions of attempting to subtly ask for an age without actually asking. Uh huh, she saw what he did there. "Twenty five. Not a day older than twenty five. Certainly not even thirty. Exactly twenty five." Hjørdis repeated, stubbornly trying to admit she had not just aged a year older. Oh lord, she was a year older... Nope, nope, nope. She was permanently twenty five.

"I have spent far more time in Africa than in Scandinavia, to be quite honest. Norway was just something I had to do, for my dad," Hjørdis replied honestly. It was a little strange to be this honest with someone, especially without being at least seven drinks down. However, she was trying. She smiled a little - a soft slightly sad kind of smile - as she thought about her father. Becoming an auror in Norway's ministry was definitely the best way she could honour him. He would have been proud of that. She probably ought to have stuck it out for longer but... alas, life happened.

Hjørdis picked up a small cauldron, pouring a few glasses of water into it, "Tea?" She asked, offering it to him as she was intending on making her own. She threw in some additional water, regardless of his answer. It was impossible to have too much tea. Lighting a fire underneath it, she busied herself in preparing for the tea as the water boiled. She grabbed the tea leaves, some milk, sugar, cardamom, ginger as well as a grater and cups. Whilst she moved around, she quirked an eyebrow, as he mentioned her hair.

It was not the first time he had. But she was not entirely sure what he wanted to know about it. She stayed silent for a few moments, as though she had not heard him. Honestly, she was just trying to think of what she ought to tell him. Playing it off in a cool way, slightly mysterious was probably the way she ought to go but... she did not, "It's natural. And no, I'm not a seer, a veela or a metamorphmagus... Sorry to disappoint," She replied in a matter of fact tone, clearly having been asked that a lot of times before.

Ever since she found out about the world of witchcraft and wizardry, people suspected she was a seer or veela - both known for either premature grey hairs or having light hair. They also suspected metamorphmagus - or that she dyed her hair. But no, this was just the way it was. There was not really much else to say about it. It would have probably been pretty cool if she was a seer or veela or metamorphmagus but... she was not. That was just the way genetics worked. Hjørdis had accepted herself the way she was a while back, when she stopped dying her hair other clothes to try and compensate. There was a time where she had odd patches of grey hairs rather earlier in her life, which she hated. She ended up dying her hair a lot then to try and cover it up. Until she realised how irritating it was trying to cover roots without using magic and how she was beautiful regardless of her hair colour.

"Mhmm?" She asked as he decided on a recipe. Moving back towards the book, her eyes fell onto the recipe. Kransekake. She quirked an eyebrow. Did he even have a single clue what it actually was or what was in it? The page he had pointed to was a Norwegian cake. There were recipes in English as well as recipes of products that were not Norwegian in the book, of course. But he happened to pick was an interesting choice. She actually was a fan of it. It had been a while since she had had it. Her gran would make it almost every year, around Christmas. It was never something she had eaten on this particular day but... that was likely perfect. Trying to find something new was rather hard after you reached her age. Most of what she could think of had already been done. This one had not. Mostly because it was not something you normally had for this occasion.

She smiled softly, it was perfect.

Her eyes flickered to Caradoc, to see if he actually had any idea what kransekake even was. "You want... kransekake? You realise that it's a cake often consumed at weddings, or Christmas, right?" She asked, her Norwegian accent coming out slightly as she said the name, with a smirk playing on her lips. Her guess was that he had absolutely no idea. It was kind of amusing. Hjørdis pointed to the preparation time and cooking time, listed on the corner of the page. Over two hours for preparation and around ten to thirty minutes for the cooking. "You want to spend the next three hours with me?" She could not help but smirk at this. He wanted cookies when he first arrived. She had no qualms in making a cake but it would definitely be a mammoth of a task that she was not entirely sure he was prepared for.

Unlike her, the man likely wanted to actually get some sleep. This was his escape - or at least a chance to ask for something far less time consuming. She could always make this afterwards, though. The idea of kransekake was actually rather appealing to her now.

Glancing over to Jeger, who was still on the seat, she noticed he had curled up and started to doze off now. It would appear he was no longer interested in keeping her awake and prodding her, now that Caradoc had stopped dancing and confusing him.

Hjørdis matched his gaze, with as much confidence as she could muster. It might have only been a moment or two but she stared back at him with full confidence, as though she had obviously told the truth. She nodded, confirming his words and ignoring the fact that he was winking at her, yet again. The man certainly enjoyed teasing people, she learned that from their very first meeting half a year ago, "Exactly. Certainly not. And most definitely not above that." It was a clear lie. They both knew that.

"Oh. Well..." She hesitated for a moment as he brought up her parents, clearly missing important details of the story. It was not his fault, of course. She had just never told him. But there was a reason that she almost cried the first time they met. He brought up a sad situation that was painfully similar to her own. She had not vocalised it at the time. Hjørdis internalised everything, it seemed. However, his words were evidence of the fact that she had not vocalised it. It was not something she told everyone but given the similarities, if anyone would understand, it was him, "Not quite... I guess so... She said softly.

She nodded in response to his acceptance of tea. That was something she could definitely do. Caradoc apologised after her comment about her hair. "Just a few times..." She replied before mentally scolding herself. His expression and apology showed how he did not mean it in a negative way. She had just heard it a few too many times. It had been a while since anyone had actually teased her about it but then again, she usually left enough mystery in it that people would assume it was dyed or she had special abilities that caused it. "No need to apologise, I certainly had fun messing with people because of it," Hjørdis replied with a small smirk on her lips as she thought about the different times. She had an irritating colleague once that would not leave her alone. So she convinced the lady that she was a veela and was intending on stealing her boyfriend away if she did not leave Hjørdis alone. And pretending to be a Seer? Oh gosh. That was fun. They instantly believed any made up prophecy she made if they thought she might be a seer.

The main downside to her white hair was that people assumed she was old, and she knew painfully well that she was aging. What a terrible thought. Twenty-five. Not a day over twenty-five. That was exactly how old she was, she reminded herself. "Caradoc... It's September..." She replied with mock distraught, as though it was the most ridiculous thing to be festive so early. Most of the shops around likely were putting up their Christmas decorations already, to be fair. It was a little excessive, in her eyes. November was the earliest she would allow. But she did not really care all that much, as long as she did not get subjected to listening to muggle Christmas songs from September. He would find himself staring into her silverish blue eyes as she quirked an eyebrow. She had not actually anticipated him to agree to this, especially given how he entered the room for food because he was hungry.

Hjørdis stared at him for a moment, giving him a final chance to back down. "Very well... In that case, can you please grab some ground almonds - or regular grounds if there isn't any ground ones... A bag of icing sugar, eggs and some almond extract?" If he had a nut allergy, this was definitely not the recipe for him. Those four ingredients were not the full list of ingredients but it would be enough to start the progress for now.

She turned back to the cauldron of water that was starting to boil, she picked up the tea leaves and scooped some into it. "Do you have a preference on how you take your tea?" She asked, hesitating to actually add anything other than the usual tea leaves without checking with him. In fact... regardless of his answer, she decided to do it that way. She could go with that option. It was easier than brewing two different cups.

As she worked on the tea, and had tasked him with something else. She decided to approach the earlier comment that she had simply ignored.

"My mother moved in with my grandparents, in South Africa, when she was pregnant with me. She could not go home, at that time," Hjørdis started to reply, suddenly. It had been a little while, he likely thought she was not going to answer. "She moved back to Ireland shortly after my birth. My dad travelled quite a bit, for work. He was in the army, the muggle army. He wasn't a wizard. I inherited that from my mother. My paternal grandparents raised me, for the most part. Don't get me wrong, my dad was an incredible man and he certainly had a hand in raising me. As my gran used to say, I might look like my mother but I grew up to be quite the replica of him. However, due to the nature of his job, he often had to be away for months at a time so the main parenting fell to his parents." She stared into the cauldron as she spoke, stirring it until it turned to the right colour. She did not look at his reaction to the story. Mostly because she knew that there was a good chance he would recognise it and... that expression was not one she wanted to see. "My mother does travel a little for her work now, I believe, but it is not really as exotic or as far as Africa..." She added, deciding to actual speak about her mother a little more.

It also gave her a few moments to try and remove any hints of sadness on her own expression. She smiled softly, exhaling a small laugh, "My gran is most certainly the influence for the obsession with tea and the three am baking sessions, though. She gets full credit for that," She tried to lighten the mood a little, hoping that her smile would be a little comforting if nothing else. It was kind of nice thinking about them and talking about them, even though the topic was a little sad. Remembering them was nice. Hjørdis had not exactly told him - or most people - much about her history. She had accidentally told him a little more than she had intended to, if he read between the lines or picked up on the use of past tense.

Hjørdis narrowed her eyes at him, "Why, Mister Browne, are you suggesting that I look older than that?" She questioned him, kind of curious to see his response. Saying a woman looked older than she told you she was would definitely not work in your favour but when that lady was Hjørdis, it was even more so an issue. "Alright then, how old did you think I was?" Turning the question around on him, mostly to see his reaction.

She shook her head playfully as he seemed to be enjoying himself there, flexing his magical abilities like a child that just found out he was a wizard. He was definitely having too much fun. It kind of made everything worse when she bought up her past.

There was a reason that she never told him her story. It might be because it never came up again, it could have been because she was too private to bring it up, it could have been because it happened so long ago that it was no longer worth talking about... But the truth was that it was partially because of the similarities. She recognised them. The first time she heard his story, four months ago, she noticed how eerily close the resemblance was. His reaction now was exactly how she reacted, four months prior. He said nothing for a while, whilst she spoke. But it was almost like she could hear his heart breaking with every word she said. The tension in the air thickened. She never told him then, he broke out into singing before she did. It gave her a chance to mend her broken heart silently and replace the facade on her face. She knew her words were breaking him without even looking at him and she hated that. Her intention was never to hurt him or force him to recall something he felt guilty about.

But this was her story. Not his. The situation was and is different. Yes, parts were the same but there were minor details that she knew to be different. Of course, the main issue was that she did not know his full story. He had kept it vague and she had never asked. It never came up, well, not until today. He apologised - for no reason. Her smile likely did not help. He seemed a little confused, if nothing else. When he did manage to reply, there was a small hint of being taken by surprise.

She was taken back by the sudden tangent. O-oh was pretty much all she could think at his words. Complimenting her hair. It was out of the blue, given how late it was - rather like she had done to him earlier by bringing up her story. She tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear instinctively as he mentioned it. Then he brought up her father. Hjørdis knew in that moment that he knew. Well... she suspected it. She was like ninety percent sure.

Picking up the two tea cups, she placed them onto saucers and poured the fresh brew into each one, filling them to almost the brim after she had removed the cauldron from the fire. There was enough space for the addition of milk, should he want it. Hjørdis picked up the two saucers, turning around and bringing them to the main table, still keeping the smile on her face in the hopes of actually comforting him a little. She placed them down, before bringing over the milk, sugar and cardamom. The latter being for herself, of course.

She moved a cup closer to him, leaving the condiments in the middle. In her own cup, she added quite a bit of milk, a spoon of sugar and a pinch of the cardamom before mixing it. "Like some far away princess that lived in pure starlight or something?" She teased playfully after a few moments, quoting him word for word on the first night they properly spoke. Hjørdis might not say a lot but she tended to listen, observe and remember things. Caradoc spoke of his daughter that night, about how the little girl would love her hair, spinning some fairytale on it. It was sweet. She did not admit it then but echoing them back to him now meant more than just thanking him at the time, in hindsight. It meant she had paid attention, at the very least.

She smiled softly at him, "And yes, I need vegetable oil, semolina and plain flour too. I think they are over there somewhere..." She replied to an earlier question about what else they needed without looking at the recipe as she motioned to a corner with a few cupboards. Hjørdis knew the recipe off by hand by now, in fairness. She made it most Decembers. These ingredients were not required right now but it would give him a chance to step away from her without feeling the need to make conversation or worry. She also knew the exact cupboards most of these ingredients were in. But she motioned in the general direction to give him the chance to act as though he could not find it if he needed a few more moments to compose himself. If nothing else, she understood the need to have a facade, space and to be professional.

Hjørdis took a sip of her tea before she pulled out a few bowls, a whisk and a roll of cling film. Washing her hands again, she cracked four eggs into a small bowl, careful to only use the egg whites. Before whisking it lightly. In all honesty, this recipe was a little boring. Once the first step was done, the batter was meant to be left to mix for two hours. Which meant Caradoc would spend two hours being confused, hurt and unsure of what to do since there was very few tasks she could give him other than to address the elephant in the room... Of course, she was intending on using magic for this part to speed it up but even then, it was best to leave it for a little while, "Could you please do me a favour? My hands are a little messy, at the moment. Could you please flip to the back of the book, find the 'Norwegian Chocolate Chip Cookies' recipe?" If he obliged, he would see that the back of the book had a huge index, breaking down the recipes by what they were or the cuisine. It was written in English, in a cursive handwriting that differed from the earlier recipe he would have seen.

She could not recall if the chocolate chip recipe was in English or not, to be honest. There were a few different languages in it by now but the index itself was in English, as were the page numbers. If he got to the correct page, he would see a list of ingredients. It would either be in English entirely or include an English translation next to each ingredient in square brackets. They would need butter, sugar, vanilla extract, baking powder, chocolate chips, ground cinnamon as well as the eggs and flour that she had already requested.

"My father..." She continued, bringing it up, "...would eat the burnt chocolate chip cookies that I baked for him when he was coming to visit. It was the first time making them without my gran's help," She laughed softly, recalling how he made a lot 'mhm' noises and continued to eat them despite the fact they were hard and crispy - and not all that tasty, "I was so upset that I ruined his visit when they came out of the oven that I cried for ages. But he did not care that they were horrible. He still ate them - until I threw them away, that is. But he hit me on the head with a newspaper and encouraged me to try again after I boldly declared I would never bake again..." It was strange to think how such a simple thing had almost stopped her from continuing a hobby that she now loved. She almost gave up at the first hurdle. Admittedly, she was a lot younger and much more emotional but baking was such a big part of her life now that she could not imagine never doing it again.

The more positive memory, she hoped, would soften the blow a little because she was not sure how he was going to take the rest of the story.

Pouring approximately half a kilo of the grounded almonds and icing sugar into the bowl, she added the egg whites and almond extract, mixing them in. It was certainly easier to use electronic mixers or magic but since electronic items did not work and Hjørdis preferred to do things by hand, she ended up mixing it by hand. As such, it took a little while longer and required a bit more strength and energy put into the process.

Hjørdis narrowed her eyes, shooting a glare at him as he dared to imply she was thirty or around that age. She stared at him, meeting his gaze. "Beyond that?!" She asked, slightly concerned that people would actually place her at that age in the first place. He thought she looked thirty. Well. That was... sad but true. "Yes. Well. Fine. Thirty. Thirty will do." She mumbled. Technically, it was true. She was thirty - which was something she freaked out about exactly a year ago, "For about two more hours..." She grumbled under her breathe. It was not very loud. But in the quiet kitchens, he might have heard it.

She gave him space. He was quiet. Everything was sinking in. She said nothing, there was no point. He was overthinking everything. She knew because she had been there and done that. In the silence, she mixed the ingredients. Every so often, she would steal a glance at him. He was resting his head against the wood of the cupboard. Maybe she ought to say something, anything. Lighten the mood a little, make him feel better. Cookies were the only thing she could think of. It was not entering the room dancing but it was a distraction. It was not playing the fiddle and singing but it would have to do. It was her way of dealing with things.

With a warm smile on her lips - well the warmest that she could actually muster up at this point in time - she nodded to show her gratitude. It was her attempt at making him feel a little better, after seeing his attempt at smiling.

"Yeah, he was..." She said softly, still mixing everything. Her father was great man. Her hand stopped abruptly as she heard his next words. It was something she wondered for a while, to be fair. Whether her father would be proud of her or not. She had given up her dream to live his, at least for a while. But it was not something she could pursue long-term. "Yeah..." She replied, her voice barely audible, not knowing what to say. Hjørdis did not know how he would have felt. Of course, the hope was there but that was all it was: hope. But he would be, right? Maybe not of every decision that she ever made but of who she became as a person. She was pretty much a carbon copy of him, in a lot of ways. She was able to stand there, independently, supporting herself and living her life the way that she wanted to.

Hjørdis smirked a little, "His kindness was certainly not a trait I inherited, of course," She added, not considering herself such. It was not a lack of self-esteem, by any accounts. If anything, she was overly confident about her strengths. However it was more that she simply did not consider herself to be kind. Kindness, warmth, loving... they were traits she associated with her bubbly grandmother, who was so good at comforting people, always hugged them, always had a smile on her face. They were not traits that the Slytherin professor considered herself having. She was the intimidating head of house, the mean scary one. Especially in this room. Her colleague had only been at the school for four months - two of which was a summer break - and he was already loved by everyone. He was the kind one. Taking a sip of her tea, in between the baking, she smiled a little, "However, otherwise, we are pretty similar," She chuckled a little, thinking of some of the ways that the antics that they had gotten up to in her childhood.

She shook her head, since she was almost done with it anyway, at the offer of assistance. About to ask him to work on something else, she stopped as he started to talk again. Her silvery eyes found their way to his face, as she continued to mix the ingredients together. The pain of the whole situation was clearly written on his face. Perhaps she ought to tell him that he did not need to share it with her. She felt like she might need to. Before she could speak, he continued.

In silence, she listened. It was strange. Their lives were so different. In their own stories, they played completely different characters. However, there were parts of it that was so relatable to her. But this was his story, not hers. Doctor Browne... She could see it. There was something about him. He would likely have made a really good doctor - whether it was as a magical healer or a muggle doctor. His dreams were not something that he was able to follow. But if he wanted to be a healer... how did he end up as the Head of Hufflepuff? It was slightly silly for her, of all people, to question that. She had pretty much done that. But she was curious, what happened for him.

The smile on his face as he spoke about his daughter painted a beautiful picture. In the moments he spoke about Cassanora, he looked genuinely happy. It was not the sort of smile that he put on his face trying to mask his feelings and pretend everything is alright. It was genuine love. His blue eyes lit up, full of love and warmth, as he spoke about her. Rather than a fake happy, it seemed like love and actually feeling content. At least, to her. That was how she saw it.

Her eyes flickered down to the page for a moment as he laid it out in front of her. She opened her mouth to thank him but the words never left. His words sunk in. Hjørdis found herself closing her mouth, and just staring at him. Adhara, who she could only presume was his ex-wife based on how the story was going, was a werewolf - or is. Not knowing made everything worse, in her opinion. Ignorance was not a bliss. Sometimes, it was just better to know the truth than to not - even if it sucked terribly.

Raising her gaze to fall onto his face again... Hjørdis stared at him, her hands no longer actually mixing the ingredients. The look on his face was so different to what she thought she saw mere moments before. Years of heartache. Her silvery eyes met his gaze, and his expression made her heart ache a little. Her eyes watered a little. She did not know why. People always had a mask on. Hers was usually a blank expression that hid her feelings. It was more noticeable than others. But everyone, to even the smallest extent, wore a mask. He did. He would smile, putting on a brave face even when he was sad or scared. But right now, in this very moment, he had no mask. She could see the years of pent up pain and frustration clearly as he spoke.

At this point, she was just intently listening. She had no personal experience with werewolves - especially not to such an extent. However, she knew of them. And she knew of the way they were viewed. The story broke her heart. It was a complicated emotion. She saw his pain clearly - it was visible on his face. But on some level, her heart also ached for his ex-wife. The position that Adhara had been in was not an easy one. Someone she loved was almost hurt, because of her. It was not easy. But to leave, without a word or even a note... That was... She swallowed. He had not heard from her in over a decade... Which mean that his daughter had not seen her mother for that time.

She could not recall a specific age for his daughter but it would likely have been very earlier in little Nora's life, "I'm sorry... That must have been rough," She said softly. Must have been? Still was by the looks of it. However, she did not mention that. It sounded like an awfully hard time for all three of them, to be honest. There was no one to really 'hate' in the story, or to blame. His ex-wife likely did what she thought was best. Though Hjørdis could not imagine how painful it would be to never know. Ten years was a long time... She opened her mouth before closing it again. Twice. There was a lot she thought of asking but then decided against it, unsure how to phrase it. Was there even a point in asking about things that were clearly still hurting him? It had been ten years and he was still holding onto it. From his words, it sounded like he missed his ex-wife immensely, whilst also being hurt by the fact that he felt betrayed. This was an assumption that she was making.

Stepping towards him, she raised her clean hand and placed it on his upper arm, near his shoulder - if he did not pull away or move. She was not really one for physical touch or comforting but the look on his face earlier broke her heart. If she had known him better or she did not have to hold some sort of professional decorum, she would likely have just hug-tackled him. Her hands were often a little cold. In general, she was always cold. But thanks to his jumper, he likely would not have noticed. Breaking the silence that she had created, "Hey..."" She said softly, in a clear way of saying 'hey, look at me and listen to what I'm saying', "You're a great father, I have no doubt about that. You're doing the best you can for Cassanora. It might not be perfect -" Because let's be fair, what parenting ever was perfect? Who even defined what perfect parenting was...? "But it's enough. And I'm sure that she knows that. I did," She added, tacking on her own experience. She grew up alright, in her mind anyway. It was hard growing up without Lars around but she knew it was important and why he was doing it. It made his visits all the more amazing.

With her other hand, which was slightly messy anyway, she scooped up a tiny bit of batter from the whisk onto her index finger before quickly brushing it onto his cheek if he did not move quickly enough, "Got that?" She repeated as a smirk formed onto her face.

Looking down at the batter in the bowl, unsure what else to say and realising that was perhaps a little too close for comfort. "Ahh, this is done..." She added, stepping away from him and towards the bowl again. She busied herself in tasks, as she took the mixer out, tapping it on the end of the bowl to remove the loose batter. Washing her hands before she proceeded, Hjørdis grabbed some cling film and covered the bowl. She took it to the cooling cupboard, which had a freezing charm cast inside it already and placed it inside.

Then grabbed another large bowl. Placing the cream butter and slightly more than a cup of sugar into it. As she worked, beating eggs and vanilla or whisking the flour and baking powder in another bowl, she continued to speak, "So what about Cassanora? Tell me what is she like?" She asked, deciding to ask about his daughter directly. She was always curious what the little 'nora was like, this was a good as any opportunity. Besides, there was a chance that speaking of the light of his life might actually fill him with a little bit more joy.

She worked on the mixture, making it light and fluffy as she beat the eggs and vanilla into it. Gradually, she started to add the two bowls together, whisking them into a creamed mixture. Hjørdis busied herself in actually baking. There was no doubt about it. She loved baking. It was one of the few things in life that she really enjoyed doing. Admittedly, she enjoyed cooking too but baking had a special place in her heart. It was clear by the slightly more content look on her face, a little warmer than her usual blank one whilst she mixed the ingredients with care and love. The other love of her life was her cat, that was still snuggled up in a little ball and sleeping peacefully by now. Hjørdis shook her head with a soft laugh. The silly kitten had spent hours nuzzling her in the night that he had worn himself out.

Lifting her eyes from the bowls, she let her gaze fall onto the other companion in the room. He changed his outfit, it seemed before moving back to the counter. No... it was not just the outfit that changed. His mood seemed to have been lifted faster than his jumper had. Caradoc seemed to be doing slightly better now. Of course, it did not change the years of pain or suffering - or the fact that he was still experiencing those feelings deep down - but he seemed a little happier at this very moment. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment as he moved closer. He smiled. It seemed genuine. At least, from what she could tell. Hjørdis knew in that moment that his daughter was truly his strength. If his words had not been enough, the look on his face was.

Hjørdis narrowed her eyes a little, giving his reaching hand a quick slap. It was a gentle one but she attempted to bat away his sneaking hand that was trying to eat the batter. "Uh huh..." She replied, to his words, "I have no idea where she could have gotten that from," Her tone of voice was heavily dripping in playful sarcasm with a drastic roll of her eyes for his pleasure after he winked at her. He smirked far more than she did and winked on every opportunity. That much she had deduced from their very first meeting and it was only proven ever occasion thereafter.

"Wh- Tha- What the heck? That's adorable!" She acknowledged, a smile on her face and a soft laugh escaping her as she heard little Nora's dreams of becoming a hexagon. That was one of the cutest things she had heard. Of course, she had little experience being around children younger than those she taught but it was still utterly adorable. It was so innocent and pure. She loved it. Why not aspire to be a hexagon? It was in these few moments that she was forced to admit that children had the potential to be so cute and perhaps, not entirely brats, "Well you can't say she isn't ambitious," Hjørdis smirked, implying that little Nora ought to be a Slytherin.

She took another sip of her tea before resuming her whisking. The batter started to gradually start to turn into a thick creamy mixture. Stepping away for a moment, she reached for the chocolate chips across the table. A smirk tugged at her lips as she glanced away. She had a feeling she knew what would happen.