A/N: Enjoy this companion piece to ES: chapter 18!

Elen and I ADORED this one in particular.

you can read this before or after the chapter.

"I was just imagning something more…" Severus drifts off as he follows his godson into the kitchen of the safe house he and Albus share.

"More what?" Draco distractedly heads to the cupboards. The boy's explicitly written to him, asking to come to visit Severus at his earliest convenience, and the moment he stepped out of the floo, he headed to the kitchen. Severus follows the boy with raised eyebrows.

"More scholarly," he muses, settling against the doorway with his arms crossed.

"Severus, I am not your pall," Draco huffs, bringing down a large pot and a searing pan from the tall cupboard, "I'm your godson."

"You are not my cook either." Severus watches as the boy heads to the food inventory and rummages for ingredients, "There is no need for this."

What has gotten into him? Severus cannot remember a time when Draco was even mildly interested in domestic affairs. The boy was too spoiled for such things and too unlearned without hurting himself. Surely, a few months with Potter cannot have changed that much.

"There is," Draco says, opening a packet of minced meat with a pruned nose. He stops and looks at Severus, "You know muggle food, right? Harry's mom was a Muggleborn."

"Those two things have nothing in common."

Draco rolls his eyes at him, an old habit of his, "Is that a yes?"

Severus sighs with a reluctant nod, "Yes. I do."

There is no point in refusing the boy, everything that he needs to know Severus knows, but so do Black and Lupin, and those two morons are much more liberal with information than Severus is. Severus wants Draco to come to him first, no matter what.

"Good, that's good. I want to surprise Harry," his godson gives him a slight grin, "and I kinda forgot how to make the whole spaghetti with meatballs thing again, so you have to mentor me on that."

Severus finds himself mildly amused and irritated at the same time, not a strange combination of emotions regarding Draco, "Is that why you came all the way here to see me?"

He's truly been expecting something more productive, perhaps a potion-making session, or even a discussion about magical theory, since he's seen the boy studying the books in Black's library, but instead, they are in the poorly equipped kitchen, making food for Potter.

"You almost sound hurt, Sev," Draco teases and heads to the cupboards again, this time for the seasoning of the meat, "And no, if you must know. Black and Lupin are driving me up the wall. They're all so… loud." He brings up a container to sniff and then puts it away with a wince, "And boorish and ungraceful, dear god." He slumps against the cupboard in mock annoyance, and Severus rolls his eyes again.

"Gyffindors," he drawls with contempt, and Draco eagerly nods along.

"Gryffindors."

"You are going to cook." Severus notices the unnecessary bundle of spices and herbs in Draco's hands as he walks back to the counter.

"Yes, Harry taught me, and I just need some practice so he would be proud of me."

Severus hides a wince. He should prevent this, he knows. He should rebuke Draco and start detaching the boy from Potter. It is all too clear to him, the sequence of events. Potter is going to die whether they win or lose, and Severus cannot have another Morris Prewett on his hands. But the way Draco talks about him and hovers about him, the way he is attuned to him… it all reminds Severus of a distant past. He cannot begrudge Draco that.

"No need to ask your godfather how he is doing then," Severus says with defeat, "Please proceed."

Draco snorts, another undignified habit he's picked up from Potter, "I've forgotten how snarky you can be, Sev. Is being Dumbledore's roommate that difficult?"

Severus rubs his temple with disdain, even being reminded of the fact wearies him. Thank heavens the man is not in the house with them at the moment, running on some errand in the Ministry.

"Unbearable."

"I guessed." Draco pinches a considerable chunk of the mince and drops it into a bowl with a gag. Severus gives him a look, and Draco shrugs, "Raw meat is disgusting."

"You are a walking paradox, Draco. It does get unbearable as well."

"You say that about anyone," the boy carelessly flings more meat in the bowl, "including Mother and Father."

Severus freezes for a moment but then decides to act lightly, the same way Draco is treating the subject of his parents, "Your Father used to roam the halls of the manor in the middle of the night like a maniac, and you know I am sensitive to sound—"

"And mother used run you on errands, yes," Draco starts kneading the meat whilst looking away, "I know. I was the subject of all your nagging in my childhood, after all. You were a horrible nanny, Severus."

Severus narrows his eyes at the boy, "Don't act as if you were an easy child. I had to bribe you at least once a day."

Draco turns to give an indignant huff, "You kept giving me the blackmail material. Not my fault that I utilised it accordingly," he looks down at the bowl and then the plethora of spices he's had rowed in front of him, "so… shit."

"We talked about your language—"

"Which spices?" Draco pushes salt aside, "Salt and…yellow powder?"

Severus raises an incredulous eyebrow at him, "Tumeric? No, you dimwit."

This is somewhat nostalgic. Even though Severus doesn't want to allow, the memories to take root once again, he remembers being a child, his legs not reaching the floor as he sat behind the Evans family table, colouring with Lily as her mother made them food. There is a reason he was reminded of that.

"No," Draco is frowning with concern, "Harry had this special recipe for the meat. Fuck, it was salt… black pepper, and…."

"Garlic powder with an aromatic, usually dried parsley." Severus quietly finishes, looking away.

It seems as though Petunia has carried on the family recipe throughout the years. Severus doesn't know whether to sneer or be amazed at the humane gesture the woman had displayed. She was always so hateful.

"How did you…."

"It's the Evans family recipe," Severus interrupts the boy, "I knew his mother. Petunia must have used it as well."

Draco very slowly reaches for the garlic powder, his eyes wary and on Severus the entire time. Severus tries, he really does, to appear nonchalant and in the present. It was old history, nearly two decades ago. He should be over it. He really should be better at this. He is a spy.

"Petunia," Draco hums slowly, slowly tipping the spice as if afraid of overdoing it, "is that the aunt?"

"Regrettably. That's enough garlic."

Draco sets the container down abruptly and glares up at him in silence. Severus levels the boy's gaze. "Did you all know? Before I found out."

"Albus did. He said Potter was mildly mistreated. Well, that was his assumption."

Minerva had warned them. Severus knew that too. But mild mistreatment was a long way from the scars he'd seen on Potter's body at Shell Cottage. They rang another painful memory to the front, and Severus wasn't overly fond of those.

"Mildly mistreated?" Draco snaps, "You didn't tell him about the—"

"Potter asked me not to tell anyone. And he was right. No use telling anyone now that they are dead."

Severus thinks the boy is mature enough to bury years of abuse as Severus himself did. Though, in the end, he ended up damaged, as much as he doesn't want to admit it. But needs must. Potter has more important things to deal with. The muggles should be the last of his concern.

"Do you regret treating him like shit?" Draco asks with contempt as he reaches for a green container.

"That's mint, not parsley." Severus tells him, "And I do regret telling you things."

Draco slams the pan on the stove and ignites it with a tap of his wand. Narcissa's wand. Severus raises his eyebrows at the boy, "You're missing something."

"You are a horrible teacher," Draco snaps.

"You are yet to make the meatballs. No need to warm up the pan."

"Actually, Severus, heating it up prevents sticking. Harry taught me that."

Severus can't help but smile, Draco has changed considerably in the past few months, but in some ways, he has not changed one bit. He always used to be like that. He always had that fiery spirit to undermine Severus at every turn. And Severus loved it. He tilts his head in resigned agreement, and Draco shrugs with a wince.

"Are the calming draughts effective?" he asks as Draco rolls up the tiny meatballs between two palms. Draco's shoulders hunch a bit.

"Yes, they are. Thank you."

"They should last you a long while," Severus hums.

"Uh-huh."

Narcissa and Lucius would either be horrified or proud. Their son is turning into a good man. Not prejudiced or snobbish, and not boorish and Gryffindor rubbish either. He walks the intermediate edge of both states, and that's good enough for Severus. He reminds Severus of himself. And he effortlessly fits the pureblood status as he does the muggle-loving one.

Severus and Lily used to cook for each other too. Usually at Lily's house during the summer breaks.

"That's not enough oil for the meatballs," he quietly corrects the boy, "You need to sear them."

"Do you ever think about how different things could have been?"

"No. I do not dwell on the past," Severus lies, "It is a useless hobby. You shouldn't either."

"I am worried about the way things are now," Draco carefully deposits the meatballs onto the pan, slightly wincing at the harsh sizzling of the oil, "I feel like everyone is hiding things from me."

Severus walks up to the stove and turns the heat down a bit; Potter might be used to working with scalding hot oil, but Draco isn't, and Severus won't have him burning himself.

"Because we are," he tells the boy frankly. There is no need to lie to him, "You needn't know everything, Draco."

Draco purses his lips and looks at the pan, "But things that concern him—"

"Only to an extent. You are a liability," Severus summons a spatula and hands it to the boy, "We are not in the habit of informing each liability of our every move. You will be thankful for that down the road."

His godson looks scared all of a sudden, peeved, not scared. Severus lets him take over the pan with the spatula, "You think I'm going to be compromised?" Draco asks him hesitantly.

Shit, Severus shouldn't have told him like that. He shakes his head.

"I'm hoping you wouldn't be. Never mind that you need your water pot to come to boil."

Draco remains unmoving, with narrowed eyes, "You scare me, sometimes."

"Good."

Severus turns away.