13: things you said at the kitchen table.
this was really fun, actually! i love writing my ships all domestic-y. i hope you like it! c:
“You really should teach me how to cook.”
Harry looks up, raising an eyebrow as he does. “Why would
you say that?”
Draco shakes his head. “If you’re trying to be nice, you can
stop that right now.” He pauses, then adds, “Potter.”
Harry snorts. “Okay, yeah, yourr cooking is rubbish, but why
would you want me to teach you?”
“Because your cooking is wonderful?” Draco shrugs. “And I
like the idea of learning to cook in an entirely Muggle way, you know? It would
certainly be a thorn in my father’s side.”
“I think your father probably doesn’t care much anymore
about something as small as cooking. You probably struck the final …
whatever when you moved in.”
“Yes, well, that’s beside the point. Wouldn’t it be
interesting? And, anyway, you can’t cook all the time.”
Harry frowns, searching his boyfriend’s eyes for any
indicator that he’s not being serious, but comes up with nothing. But Draco is guarded,
so maybe there’s something else there … He knows Harry doesn’t mind cooking, after all, and actually really
enjoys watching Draco eat it.
“I have so far,” Harry points out.
Draco sighs. “It’s not like it’s a huge request. I don’t see
what the problem is. And you’ve said so yourself that sometimes you’re just too
tired to cook. It’s why we have takeout three times a week.”
“Not three times a week,” Harry mumbles, but it seems like
he’s very much losing this argument. And, indeed, why is he arguing? It’s not like he really cares. He would probably
still cook all the time, anyway, because some people just aren’t meant for it.
Those are the people like Draco, who burn everything they try to cook.
“So, will you, then?”
It must be something in his tone, maybe the slight glint in
his eyes, or the small half-smile on his lips. Maybe it’s a combination of it
all, but either way Harry gives in. “I’m not sure I would be a good teacher,
but I can try.”
“You’re a good teacher at everything else you do. Why wouldn’t
this be any different?”
“Because it’s one-on-one?” Harry suggests. “And also because
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” Draco’s eyes narrow,
but his tone doesn’t seem overly threatening.
“You didn’t even know what I was going to say,” Harry says
“I have an idea.”
Harry rolls his eyes, but lets it slide away, anyway. “And
there’s the fact that I didn’t exactly have the best teacher, either,” he adds.
He nods. “Yeah, she wasn’t exactly kind about anything, but
when I messed up at something …” He pauses, at a bit of a loss for words. “Well,
let’s just say I didn’t exactly mess up often. She made me do most of the
cooking, especially once I got my Hogwarts letter. If they were trying to
impress someone with some fancy dinner, she took credit for cooking when I
usually did it myself.”
“So you’re afraid you’ll wind up being like that?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. I mean, it’s ridiculous, but I just .
Draco sighs, and takes his hand across the table. “I don’t
think it’s ridiculous. And you what? If I think you’re acting out of sorts, I
always do know how to fix that.”
A burst of laughter escapes Harry’s throat. “Well, I can’t
turn down an offer like that, can I?”
And in that moment, Harry allows himself to think that maybe
the way he was raised doesn’t need to define who he is right now.