Avis.
Aves.
Bird.
They were so simple to conjure compared to other animals, yet could be more efficient than any of the rest. And, after years of being married, Narcissa Malfoy was pleased to say that she had finally mastered the spell.
She'd tried to use it several times early on, either after a row with Lucius or when she was sitting out in the gardens. Her birds were never perfect; they didn't quite come through. They were transparent or couldn't chirp. Or, on her really bad days, they couldn't fly. Oh, how she'd cried! Their small bodies quivered after they fell to the ground, shocked by whatever it was that went through their minds when their wings didn't work. Yet she persisted and now, with considerable ease, she could conjure an entire flock of birds.
Robins, jays, hummingbirds, wrens, sparrows… The list could go on. She'd created so many that she couldn't say what was going to burst from the tip of her wand. Most often the birds were canaries. This morning was to be no exception.
She had always been fascinated with cooking. The idea that you could take multiple things and then combine them to create something else that tasted good was just so interesting to her. As first the daughter, and then the wife, of devout purebloods, it was hard for her to cook. Sure, she could try, but as soon as she started it seemed like she was interrupted. So, when Lucius was arrested, she made it her mission – much to Draco's chagrin – to cook at least one of their meals every day.
Her best course was salad, which didn't require much effort but also wasn't much fun to put together. And her worst was breakfast. Lunch, which was typically some sort of sandwich, was typically decent too. The more she experimented, the more uncertain that got, and it soon got to the point that Draco would try to discern her planned meal for the following day and manage to be absent at that time.
She was bothered by it at first, before Severus started spending more and more time at the manor. Draco was growing increasingly suspicious of their behavior but had not yet figured out the exact nature of their relationship, which made breakfast the perfect meal for her to cook every day after she figured out that her son wanted no part of her food.
The older wizard had not yet learned that lesson, as he usually just nibbled on a piece of toast and downed a couple cups of coffee. Or firewhiskey. That depended on Voldemort's mood the prior evening.
"Severus, breakfast!" She set their plates on her favorite table, a small one just the right size for two people, which was near the windows facing the grounds.
"This looks…wonderful." He slid into the room a few moments later, his manner more annoyed than usual (even for this time of day), and gave his eggs an unhappy glance. "Better than yesterday's toast."
The witch knew he was lying, knew that he hadn't even had toast yesterday. And when he took a bite of her eggs, she wanted to throw her own plate at him. "You don't have to lie about it. If you don't like it, just say so."
"No, it's fine. It's all fine." And then, quietly so that – he thought – she wouldn't hear, he muttered, "They're just a little underdone is all."
That remark proved too much. With a huff, she drew her wand and murmured a soft, "Avis."
There was a bang and then nine canaries were tweeting as they hovered around Severus. "Here, you git. They'll give you some undercooked eggs."
Teach him to insult a woman's cooking…
a/n;
This was written for the Spellbound Challenge/Competition. My spell was Avis.