Spoons
He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. His face was flushed with nervousness and anticipation.
The time to make a move was fast approaching. Trying desperately to calm his nerves, he felt himself fidget. He gave a sideways glance to his companion. Ron was anxious, and his face showed it. Harry knew that if he made his move too soon, then it could be disastrous. However, if he waited too long then it would be over, his chance would be gone.
This was it. The moment had come. Trying to school his features, he tried to look like nothing was about to happen. Nervously, he jerked his arm forward and he felt his hand close around the silver utensil.
At the same time, Ron, who had noticed what Harry was doing just a little too late, sent his arm forward in an attempt to get to the utensil first. Instead he smashed Harry's hand on to the utensil.
Harry, yanking his arm back, exclaimed, "Ouch, damn it Ron, that was my hand." He could vaguely hear Sirius give a half-hearted reprimand over his language.
Ron, gave his best friend a sheepish smile "sorry, mate, but really, the game is called 'spoons'. Shouldn't we be using spoons instead of forks." Although the game was new to him, he found it to be a good way to pass the time. He couldn't help but be somewhat amused at the things that muggles come up with.
Now it was Harry's turn to give a sheepish smile. He flexed out his fingers to make sure they were working properly. "Well, Sirius wanted me to do the dishes, and I just haven't gotten to it yet." He couldn't help but give a small snicker, "There were no clean spoons, so here we are playing spoons, but using forks."
Giving Harry a good natured eye roll, Ron stretched out and reached for the deck of cards. "Want to play another round?"