Prompt: Sharing dessert

Lily fought back tears as she took in the wreckage of what had once been her kitchen, and cursed the day she'd ever come up with such a ludicrous idea.

When planning James' nineteenth birthday, their first as an official couple, she'd discovered the true travesty of a pureblood upbringing. They didn't do birthday cake.

"My parents loved me, of course. And we always celebrated my birthday" James had tried to reassure her, "It just isn't a pureblood tradition to present a cake. It's more of a cufflinks and family jewels type of celebration."

Lily had decided then and there: she was going to make James the best cake he'd ever had. One good enough to make up for nineteen years of cake-less birthdays. A homemade cake filled with love and well wishes, just as her parents had made for her.

She'd even braved a visit to Petunia's to borrow recipe books, and the supplies to construct said cake. Petunia, in her never ending quest to bring Lily down, had warned: "You won't be able to do it. While you were off at your freak school, I was learning how to cook and prepare a home. I don't know why you even bother."

She'd shaken off her sister's pessimism and had popped down to muggle London to procure the necessary items herself. She'd always gotten top marks in potions. How different could it really be?

The answer to her rhetorically posed question lay in the disaster zone that was now her kitchen. Pristine marble countertops, now dusted in a layer of flour after attempt number three, when she'd given in and finally used a little bit of magic to help the process along. Attempts one and two sat smouldering in her outside bins– the acrid burnt smell of them too overwhelming in the small kitchen. What had been her mother's good cake dish, now playing host to a steaming pile of ash that had been meant to be a vanilla cake (attempt number four). On the stove rested attempt number five– looking more like an unfortunate burnt soup than a vanilla buttercream cake.

Attempt number six was supposed to be her final one! It turned out perfectly. The cake didn't stick to the pan. It wasn't too burnt or too soupy. And it didn't take on the weird goo-like consistency of attempt number three. She'd gleefully pulled cake number six out of the oven– unable to stop herself from giggling like a small child at the perfectly golden cake.

Lily let it cool the requisite amount of time, as directed by the cooking books she'd picked up in muggle London, then set to work on frosting it.

The cake had been meant to look like a golden snitch: a memento of their Hogwarts days, but also a nod to her boyfriend's chosen profession– as it turned out, playing with that snitch all the time had paid off.

Comparing the cake (if one could call it that) in front of her to the design she'd sketched out on parchment earlier– no one would mistake one for the other even in passing. Instead of a perfectly round golden snitch large enough to feed twenty, she'd ended up with a lopsided mustard yellow egg– barely the size of her palm. Lily glared at the abomination, as if it was somehow the cake's fault that Lily didn't know how to bake, frost, or even trim a cake.

The roaring of the fireplace announced James' arrival. No. No. No. He was back too early! She scrambled to right herself from the dejected heap she'd crumpled to on the kitchen floor, and desperately brushed the flour off her face– as if that was what needed fixing.

"Lil! I'm here!" James called, making his way towards the kitchen from the living room. "I got off early and was thinking we could–" he cut himself off at the sight that greeted him in the kitchen.

"Happy birthday," Lily offered weakly, willing her lip not to tremble.

Shock and horror warred across his face as he rushed into the kitchen. "Lily, what happened here? Are you okay?"

"I made you– I made you a cake," she said, hating the way her voice broke.

James took in the carnage, looking slightly shell-shocked, before his eyes latched onto the pathetic frosted egg-shaped lump she held on a plate in front of her. Instantly his face shifted, a broad grin overtaking his face with elation. "You made me a birthday cake?" he asked, unable to contain or disguise his childlike excitement– the poor sod probably thinking this was what all muggle birthday cakes must look like.

James pulled her by the wrist over to the kitchen table, where she deposited her sorry excuse for a cake. "It was supposed to be a snitch," she explained, "but then I got a little, uh, overzealous, in my cake trimming– and now we are left with this." Lily couldn't help it as her lips turned down as she looked at the lumpy dessert. A few tears escaped, but he quickly brushed them aside with his thumb.

"Hey, it's still a cake," he reassured, "No one really cares how they look on the outside. It's the taste that counts, and I'm sure you made a superb cake, Lil."

"I forgot to get candles…" she rambled, "But usually at a muggle birthday party they'd sing a little birthday song and then you blow out the candles and make a wish." His brows drew together in confusion at why muggles would put candles– usually used for lighting drafty corridors– in a cake, before making you extinguish them as if that would grant a wish. Unwilling to go into explaining muggle birthday traditions– and unsure if she could without bursting into full on bawling tears, Lily shoved a fork in his hand. "Oh, go on. Have the first bite, birthday boy," she encouraged with a watery smile.

He gave her a winning grin and scooped up a large bite of the cake, plopping it in his mouth. No sooner had he closed his lips around the fork, than his expression shifted. He did his best to conceal the obvious disgust, but he couldn't hide the shock and confusion that crossed his face. With difficulty, he swallowed, and gave her his best attempt of a grin.

"Oh, it's just awful isn't it?" she moaned and dropped her face to her palms.

"No, no!" James was quick to protest, "I just had a few sweets before I left the stadium, so it's probably just the aftertaste of the lemon drop!" As if to prove his point, he shoveled half the cake into his mouth in two large bites.

Lily let out a sigh of relief. At least attempt number six had turned out okay, even if her cake decorating skills weren't exactly up to par. Relieved that her cake baking hadn't been a complete failure, she snatched up a fork and speared the last bite of cake– to James' protests.

The cake had barely touched her tongue, then she was up as she ran for the sink to spit out the offending monstrosity– and be sick if need be. Lily rinsed her mouth out with water from the tap before turning to James. "That was awful! Why didn't you say so? And why did you eat it? How did you eat it?"

Then she promptly broke down in a fit of tears.

"Hey, hey, hey. What's wrong?" he asked, standing and pulling her by the hand into a warm embrace.

"I– I just wanted to make you a birthday cake– you'd never gotten one– I don't know how to bake– not at all like potions–" came her gasping response between sobs as she buried her head against his chest.

"Lil? Lily?" tilting up her chin with two of his fingers when she didn't look up. "Thank you for the cake." His warm hazel eyes burned with sincerity.
"But– But it was awful," she whispered.

"I don't care," James said, "It means the world to me that you even made me one. I love you, you know."

"I love you too," Lily said, tears slowing as he leaned down to slowly kiss her.

They stood in the kitchen wrapped around each other for a long while, before James let out a chuckle against her temple.

"Stop laughing," she grumbled.

"I'm sorry, it's just nice to know that you can't be perfect at everything," he said, earning a half-hearted smack against his chest from Lily who had already started to giggle along with him.

"It was pretty bad," she laughed.

"The worst," he agreed, leaning down to kiss her again.

"I love you."

"I love you too."