The weekend came to Harry's cottage, and with it Laura. She usually lounged around at home since he had plans most of the time. Sometimes lunch, sometimes dinner, sometimes just an afternoon cup of tea and biscuits: she never knew quite what she'd get. But, today, she'd come over for a late breakfast. He didn't explicitly know that yet, however.
Stepping back into the kitchen after letting her in, Harry said. 'I'm just making a tea.'
She followed him, her nerves reminding her she didn't have to go through with her plan. As though testing the waters for bailing out, she softly cleared her throat, and then asked, 'Have you, um, had breakfast?'
'Nah. Nothing to do today, so I'll just snack.'
After taking a deep breath, she said, 'I'll make us fried eggs on toast.'
In the middle of pouring boiling water, he didn't stop, but she saw him smile.
'If it's okay with you,' she said, a bit late.
'No, that's fine with me. You know how the grill works?'
She paused a moment, and then said, 'Right, no toaster.'
'Yeah. I've got fresh eggs. Should be good on bread. There's sunflower oil, if you're worried about burning the butter.'
After pressing her lips tightly in a line, she said, 'Butter will be fine.'
He laughed, stirring his mug. 'Sure.'
'I, I've been practising a lot, you know.'
'Yeah, I know.' He paused, having a sip of his tea. 'D'you wanna cook now?'
She nodded hesitantly.
Stepping away from the oven, he said, 'I'll leave you to it then.'
She nodded again, and then watched him walk out the room, her heart beating faster with every step of his. That hadn't exactly been part of the plan. Alone, she took a moment to think, and then went about collecting plates and bread and all that, lining them up on the counter.
'Okay, let's start with the toast,' she muttered to herself, taking out four slices of bread. Bent down, she opened the oven and got out her wand. 'Um, hot flames, hot flames.' Concentrating intently, she waved her wand, and then stopped herself. 'Not Bluebells.' After a deep breath, she rested her wand against the metal mesh that spread across the top of the inside of the oven.
A string of violet fire streamed out her wand, coiling on the mesh, until she flicked her wand away. The flames remained. She let her hand approach them, but yanked it back before it even got close.
'Maybe too hot.' Still, she put the bread on a rack and slid it in. Though she'd planned to toast and fry at the same time, she found herself too worried to look away from the bread, oven gloves on and ready to take them out any second.
Hardly any time passed when she had to flip them over. With some idea of how long they'd take, she felt comfortable putting the pan on the stovetop and adding a chunk of butter. Then, she waited a bit longer, before taking out the toast.
After putting out the grilling flames, she rested her wand's tip under the frying pan. 'Gentle flames,' she muttered to herself. Like before, coiling fire streamed out, though a much smaller strand this time, which she cut off much sooner with a flick of her wand.
Letting out a sigh of relief, she stared at the butter. It slowly melted and began to bubble. In much more familiar territory now, she picked up an egg and cracked it on the side of the pan, before carefully prying it open and pouring out the innards. Quick as she could without being careless, she added three more.
She rather admired the size of his pan. The biggest one at her flat barely fit three eggs without overlapping, but his managed four just fine.
With those kinds of pointless thoughts in mind, the eggs were soon cooked. Once more careful, so the yolks didn't break, she scooped them out the pan and onto the bread. Only afterwards did she think about whether or not he buttered the toast when he cooked. She thought he probably didn't, since the eggs were cooked in butter, so they brought some butter with them when put on the toast. But, there were still the corners, which missed out on egg and butter, and so rather dry. That didn't bother her much when she ate. It might bother him, she thought. Some melted butter still in the pan, she contemplated pouring a dribble on the corners of his toasts, before she realised she was overthinking things.
Then, she went on to overthinking things when it came to salt and pepper.
Eventually, she walked through to the lounge with both plates (and a pair of shakers) on a tray. She made sure to check in front of her feet as she went. He kept the place rather tidy, though, so she had no problem getting to the table.
'No bacon?'
She gave him a playful shove as she sat down. 'Prat.'
Laughing, he salted and peppered his egg. She watched, breath held, until he took his first bite and didn't wince. Not that she expected it to taste terrible, because she hadn't burnt it. Really hard to fry an egg wrong without burning it in her experience. Likewise with the toast, which she had seen was fine and not at all blackened.
'It's good, thanks,' he said.
She smiled shyly down at her own plate. 'You're welcome.'
Silence followed on while they ate, idly looking at the lily on the table or at the landscape beyond the window, sometimes catching each other's eye and smiling. As they finished up, she popped into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea.
When she joined him again at the table, he reached over to hold her hand. ''Bout two hours until Andromeda and Teddy come,' he said.
