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The game wasn't familiar to the eight-year-old: her mother was bent backward over the counter top, her arm, held high while chocolate slid slowly down it—chocolate that her father was busily licking off, bit by bit.
That's a bloody stupid way to play Keep-Away, Merva thought, as her father took one of her mother's fingers into his mouth to suck.
"Oh!"
And there's no chocolate there. . . . Ew.
"I'll have it all, Hermione."
You might at least share, thought Merva in disgust, returning to bed.
Apparently, she didn't need a drink of water as much as her parents did their dessert.