Draco using the toaster. Poptarts fly out. Draco ends up on top of something and stays there till Harry comes home.
“Don’t move, Potter!”
“Er– what?” Harry had just come home and had been about to step into the kitchen when he heard his boyfriend’s anxious directive.
“I said, don’t move! The second you move, that awful muggle contraption you insisted on buying will attack. Trust me. I’ve already become its victim.”
“What are you even–” Harry cut himself off as, rounding the corner, he caught sight of Draco lying very still on top of the island in the center of their kitchen. He was staring intently across the room at the shiny red toaster, from which protruded two garishly pink–
“Are those Pop Tarts?” Harry asked incredulously. He had no idea where Draco could have possibly come by the sugar-filled American snacks. Nor why Draco, who was still suspicious of all things Muggle, might have considered actually eating one.
“I said not to move, Potter!!”
Harry couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up at Draco’s ridiculousness. He was still laying perfectly still on the counter. “What happened?”
“Stop walking at it! It’s vicious! I put in one of those awful-looking things, and then I pushed down on the little black part just like you showed me. And I stood there and waited! And waited! And the inside started to change colours—and I think Weasley must have convinced it to support the Canons because it was hideously orange—but no matter how long I stared, nothing was happening! So I moved to get my wand and then BANG! The THINGS flew out and right for my face. My face, Potter. And if you don’t cease your laughter right this minute I swear–”
“Sorry, sorry!” Harry gasped, forcing himself to take the situation seriously. “And how did you end up on the island?”
“Well… I don’t really remember. But the time I realised what was happening, I was already laying here, and I didn’t want to risk moving again.”
“Right,” Harry said. “Well, as you can see, I’m moving and am miraculously unscathed by the things. The toaster is perfectly safe.”
Draco looked highly suspicious, but still somehow found the courage to sit up and slip off the counter. “I want that thing out of our house, Potter! If you think it’s so safe, I suppose you won’t mind if I just leave you to defeat it on your own.”
With that, Draco turned up his nose and stomped out of the kitchen. Probably going off to check for wounds, Harry thought as his lips turned up into an amused smile.
He was just making his way over to unplug the toaster—Draco’s word was all but law, so he had no choice but to get rid of it now—when his cell phone rang.
“Harry, mate!” It was Ron. “Did Malfoy use the toaster yet?” He sounded full of anticipation.
“The…” Harry sighed as he realised that his boyfriend might not be so ridiculous after all. “Ron. What did you do?”
Harry could somehow hear Ron’s grin over the phone. “Oh, you know. Nothing much. Charmed it to turn orange when he tries to use it. Harmless.”
“Well… George did say there might be a few… side effects—”
“Side effects like it attacking my boyfriend’s face?”
Ron laughed shamelessly. “Oh, Merlin, they went for his face?! Oh that’s priceless!”
“Ron! You can’t do that! You know he doesn’t understand Muggle things! How did you get him to try it out anyway?”
“Oh, it was easy! Just gave him some of those Pop Tart things and told him they were your favourite snack,” Ron answered offhand.
Harry’s heart clenched unexpectedly with a wave of affection for his boyfriend. Which was quickly followed by a wave of guilt for laughing at him after all he’d tried to do was make Harry what he’d thought was his favourite snack.
“Ron, I’ve got to go. And you two need to stop your ridiculous prank war. You know if you really do hurt Draco’s face, I’ll never be able to forgive you.”
Ron made a gagging noise. “Gross, mate. Go be a champion for Malfoy’s face somewhere else. I’ll stop hexing your toaster when he stops confunding me every time I go to the bathroom at work.”
Harry smiled. “Fair enough. I’ll see what I can do.”
He hung up the phone and walked over to the toaster, unplugging it and shoving it into a plastic bag. Then he went to find his boyfriend, who was reclining on the sofa reading a copy of Witch Weekly, which Harry was very aware by now was definitely also for Wizards, Potter.
Harry quirked the corner of his mouth and held up the sack full of offensive appliance. “I thought I could go by Ron’s tomorrow on my lunch break to see about dropping this off and charming it to look like his old toaster?” he tried.
And succeeded. Draco’s face broke into a very satisfied grin. “This is why I love you, Potter.”
Harry’s grin developed into a full-on smile. He plopped down on the sofa, held up the sad excuse for a pastry he had taken from the toaster and offered, heedless of Draco’s increasingly disapproving expression, “Pop Tart?”