the candyman can, 'cause he mixes it with love

Although she'd easily accumulated a rather full library over the years, Hermione Granger wasn't in the habit of keeping a great deal of knick-knacks in her possession. Magic made it a great deal easier to store and rifle through a large quantity of belongings, but Hermione had spent her years well-divided between the Muggle and the magical world, and in the former, clutter only became troublesome, and occasionally a point of contention between herself and her parents. So when the island had decided to gift her with a series of hourglasses of various shapes and sizes, Hermione had sighed, for she wasn't sure of their purpose and felt relatively bad about the rarely used conche she kept tucked away in a corner of the hut. By its side rested a large basket of cocoa beans she'd harvested some time ago.

Perhaps it was time to donate both to the Compound.

While the conche had been equipped with wheels for ease of moving, its heavy weight still had Hermione huffing for breath by the time she reached the Compound, cheeks bright pink from the exertion. She glanced briefly from the main building to the bakery across the path, before seating herself down on the beaten path, drying her forehead with the back of a hand. "Leave the chocolate to someone else," she reasoned to herself.