There's not real intellectual stimulation for the readers in this one. Just a bit of pride and word play.
Tea Time for Intellects
Ginger eyes sparkled as the owner's lips twisted wryly, "Would you like me to recite the poor magical properties of poppy or the physical characteristics of-"
Stony, dark eyes halted her speech.
She continued anyway, "-of a Rooster. Seriously, Severus, must you always think in terms of human sexuality? Cock, for those of less vulgar mind, simply means the male chicken to the female hen."
A fire licked fiercely against its stone confines, warming the hearth and the set of three, plush armchairs that were placed around it. Such close proximity would not be warranted nor welcomed in the case of a one, Severus Snape, on normal occasion, but the bitter winter chill in the Staff Room had made such nearness unavoidable.
Beside him to the right sat the austere figure of Minerva McGonagall, who sipped at her Earl Grey at regular intervals and raised her eyebrows when conversation warranted her response. To his left was Hermione Granger, the primary cause of the ache in his ears and the throb in his head, who said more than he had brain capacity to listen to with such a voice that made him not want to.
"Insufferable wench," he responded, before taking a heady gulp of his Ceylon steep.
"Dolores Umbridge," Minerva's lips puckered in a distasteful purse, yet her eyes twinkled in the new found merriment.
"Cheers to that. Sybill Trelawney," the youngest in the company tucked her legs beneath her and nestled her arms closer in search for inner warmth to stave off the chill.
Perplexed, Severus Snape scowled and mumbled something that resembled, "Thoroughly missed the point."
"On the contrary, Severus," Minerva said with the faintest smirk on her pursed lips, "we were merely demonstrating, through named examples, what insufferable wenches are. The point, I'm afraid, was missed by you."
"Can't have a bloody sip of tea without the two of you flaunting your mental prowess…" Severus grumbled before standing to fetch something stronger.
Twenty oppressing minutes later, he found himself in the same dismally sober state he'd been in all day.
"Bugger, the fire's gone out."
"Your uncanny ability to intrusively state the obvious has reached far beyond the point of astounding me, Miss Granger. I bow to your skill of verbalizing that which we already know. Minerva, would you pass the sugar?"
"I'm afraid we're out of that too, Severus," the Scot arched a brow and focused pointedly on the empty bowl before them. "Perhaps Hermione's innate talent to state the obvious is a conditioned response to your growing habit of missing it?"
The girl in question tilted her head, "Not quite, Minerva. It's a proven fact that when one repeatedly makes comment on a specific event that is detrimental to an entire group, a member of the said group will tire of hearing the incessant comments and take action. For instance, the fire has simply gone out."
Scowling, Severus flicked his wand and drew his cloak closer as the hearth sparked to life. "Imposing know-it-all."
"-Albus Dumbledore," the women chimed, raising their teacups in a flourished salute.
The sighing Severus was forced to acquiescent and raise his as well, rolling his eyes dramatically but nevertheless finding himself in begrudging agreement.