You raised a brow when Harry plopped down on the couch beside you, a plate full of pie and cookies in his grip.
He shoveled a forkful of leftover pumpkin pie into his mouth, and raised a questioning brow at your stare. “What?” He mumbled.
“Do you really need all of those desserts?”
He let out a disgruntled hiss and continued to focus on his pie.
“Did you just hiss at me?” You laughed and stole a cookie from his plate.
“Maybe.” He swatted at your hand wandering back towards his plate. “Hey, you don’t get to judge me, and then take my treats.” He licked the crumbs from his lips and smirked when you tried to take another cookie.
You pouted. “Harry, I made the cookies!”
“And they’re amazing, buttercup.” He chuckled before shoving an entire cookie in his mouth.
“‘m gonna remember this come Christmas time. You won’t get any of the cookies.” You grumbled, folding your arms across your chest.
He shook his head and put his plate on the table before pulling you into his lap.
“That’s a lie. You will beg me to bake with you, ‘nd I know my sugarplum won’t let my handwork go unrewarded with one of her famous peanut butter blossoms.”
It was silent for a moment before Harry grinned.
“‘nd if that doesn’t work then I know your mom will make me cookies. She loves me too much to say no to this face.”
You rolled your eyes and shook your head. “Just shut your mouth and feed me some of that pie.”