Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR.

Author's Note: Thanks a mill to Dana (A-Hard-Days-Night) for beta-ing this. You seriously rock :D

She takes after her mother in numerous ways. They have the very same heart-shaped face, the same thick hair, the same figure, even the same temper. The only thing that differentiates them is tea.

Her mother makes tea all the time; that's her answer to every problem. She remembers when she was little, in the time of the first war - they would find out of the death of someone close to them, or not so close. It didn't matter. Anyone she came in contact with, her mother cared deeply for.

They would find out of their tragic death, and her mother would gasp, then head to the kitchen with a determined air. "I'm going to whip up a pot of tea," she'd say, with just a quiver in her voice. She remembers when her cousin Sirius was sent to Azkaban - a tear had dripped down her mother's face before she had murmured, "Some tea would do us good."

She thought it was stupid, no matter how much her mother wanted to believe that sitting down for a cuppa and chat would make the world's problems dissapear.

But now she's all grown up, and has been for quite some time. And the strangest thing is, whenever she has to go on missions or hears of another murder, she has the urge to brew a pot of tea and sit down for a while.

It's a dumb notion, and she chooses to ignore it.

Today, Mad-Eye came to her with a solemn face. A family of four had been murdered earlier in the day, he told her. A mother, a father, and two little girls. And she stared at him blankly for a moment, thoughts swirling in her mind. And for some reason, the most natural thing in the world to come into her head and out of her mouth was, "Would you fancy a cup of tea?"

He gaped at her for a moment, not sure of what he should do. Slowly he nodded his head, and she went into the kitchen, turned on the kettle, took out the old chipped mugs, and reflected that sometimes, perhaps a cup of tea was all the world needed.