Prior Incantomato
"A tomato, Harry"
"A what?" Harry rolled onto his side, squinting towards the voice that had startled him out of his mid-afternoon doze.
Draco rolled his eyes and towered over Harry's curled form. "It's small, red, and has these little seeds -"
"Hilarious, Draco," Harry retorted sarcastically. "Remind me to bypass your next stand-up performance."
"You asked."
"I meant what on earth do you want a tomato for?" Harry reached for his glasses and slid them along his nose, blinking a few times. When his eyesight finally adjusted, he wondered if Fred and George had placed some ridiculous charm on his spectacles during their visit that morning….
Because Harry really thought that there was a greater chance of Lord Voldemort popping round for a quick cup of tea than the sight that greeted him now.
The self-proclaimed Death-Eaters' worst nightmare (Draco had actually said this, albeit after a few too many Firewhiskies) was standing before him, an apron tied round his neck and waist, a pair of oven gloves slung over one shoulder, covered from head to foot in – was that egg?
Harry stifled a snort, instead transforming the strangled noise into a cough. He knew that if he dared let it escape him then he would be a dead man. In one movement he swung his legs over the side of the couch to face his husband. He looked at Draco for a few seconds before speaking solemnly. "I think you should maybe sit down before I inform you of something."
Draco lowered himself until he was kneeling opposite the Gryffindor.
Harry leaned forward to take Draco's hand in his, in the manner of someone offering sympathy. He cleared his throat. "I'm really sorry to disappoint you - but the auditions for Mary Poppins were last week."
"Oh ha bloody ha!" The Slytherin yanked his hand free of Harry's grip and stormed towards the kitchen. Harry choked with laughter and took a good few minutes to compose himself. He followed the irate man, still holding his sides. "Come on, it was a joke!"
"Like your hairstyle."
A very amused Harry raised his eyebrows, obviously taking no offence whatsoever at the reference to his still untamed locks. He looked Draco up and down and was satisfied by just how much the Slytherin reddened as he did so. "I don't think I'm about to take fashion advice from someone who has 'Malfoys Do it With Wooden Spoons' emblazoned on their chest."
Draco looked down at the custom-made apron that Hermione had presented him with for his birthday and turned away sheepishly. "Fair point," he huffed. He gave Harry a sidelong glance. "On second thoughts, maybe I'd be better off wearing aprons permanently when I'm around you." He eyed the dark-haired wizard mischievously. "I don't want you bleeding all over my clothes." Harry blushed – but not for the reason that Draco assumed.
Harry hurriedly stepped closer, eager to steer the conversation in a new direction. He surveyed the mess on the worktops, wrinkling his nose at the rather uneven concoction that Draco had ladled into a bowl. "So, what are you making?"
"An omlette," Draco frowned. "But I'm having some - er - difficulty."
"I'm sure all it needs is a spoonful of sugar." Harry bit his lip to stop himself laughing out loud.
Draco gave Harry a dangerous look and picked up a wooden spoon.
"That was the last one, I promise." Harry held his hands up in defence.
"Good - because I'm not afraid to use this!"
Harry quickly changed the topic before Draco got any ideas. All the while, his mind fervently attempted to put into practice every ounce of Occlumency that the Gryffindor had ever learnt….
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Just one more chapter of this nonsense, then it'll be over! Draco's comment ("I don't want you bleeding all over my clothes") will be explained in the next instalment.
I'd love you to leave a review if you liked it, hated it, or just have any views about tomatoes in general! (Don't even get me started on ketchup….)
For everyone who hasn't seen the film 'Mary Poppins', there's a song called 'A Spoonful of Sugar' in it, so that's what Harry was referring to! Incidentally, I hate that film!