SIRIUS VERSUS THE PUDDING

Sirius Black whistled the opening bars of "Deck the Halls," checked that the ties on his flowered apron were nice and snug, and re-did his raven ponytail as he glanced at the recipe one more time. Molly was at St. Mungo's visiting Arthur, and Remus was cleaning with the children, so that meant supper was up to him.

However, after twelve years in Azkaban and two on the run, Sirius was still readjusting to cooking, and the oven at his mother's house was notoriously temperamental. So when Molly asked him to make supper, he tried quite valiantly to wriggle out of it.

"Why can't Remus make it? He's an excellent cook. Besides, I'm very busy."

It was a good argument, but since he was lounging at the kitchen table with the Daily Prophet spread out as he made it, the effect was a little off. Molly pulled herself up tall and shot him one of her legendary glass-melting glares, just as Remus passed by the kitchen doorway, broom in hand.

"I need to be with my husband," she snarled at him. "And he is helping to clean up your filthy house!" she added, pointing at Remus's retreating back. "So you had better stop whining, and start working, you … you layabout!"

Sirius was very annoyed. He always hated it when people placed severe emphasis on their pronouns. And all right, he'd been duffing for an hour, but he was on a break!

"I am not whining," he fired back. "Remus has to be doing more supervising than anything else, because I saw him wandering by five minutes ago, in the opposite direction, with a cup of tea. So why don't you stop calling me lazy and get out of my kitchen before I do something I'll regret!"

With that he stood up, grabbed a hideous flowered apron from a hook on the wall, and donned it. Sleeves rolled up, fists on hips, he faced Molly, puffed-up and fierce.

She smiled kindly at him. "Thank you, dear," she said sweetly, and left.

Sirius stood alone in the kitchen for a moment, furrowing his brow, with the distinct impression that he had just been duped.

Fortunately he put his annoyance on the back burner (so to speak), and started working. An hour into his preparations, the finished salad was sitting in the ice box next to the pork chops, which were marinating in a heady mix of elderflower wine, aged vinegar, and different spices. He proceeded to the pudding, mixing up the batter for the "Chocolate Tonne Cake," as the cookbook called it.

"Let's see," he muttered to himself. "So now I … butter and sugar two circular cake pans, and divide the batter evenly. Right."

As he was buttering the pans, Harry came wandering in, sweaty from cleaning, his clothes and face smeared with soot. They nodded at each other in greeting.

"What are you doing, Sirius? I thought you and the oven weren't speaking," Harry said, pulling open the refrigerator and clanking things around as he hunted for pumpkin juice.

"We're not," Sirius replied. He finished the first pan and started to sugar the second. "But Mrs. Weasley somehow goaded me into making supper. Would you like to help?"

"Er, thanks, but I'll just be your cheering section, if you like."

Sirius smiled. Harry sat down at the table with a pitcher of juice, pouring himself a glass as he watched the preparations. Just as Sirius put the pans in the oven, Remus walked in.

"There you are!" Sirius said when he saw him, and put his hands on his hips in a remarkable imitation of Molly. "Finished avoiding your work, have you?"

"Certainly have," Remus said pleasantly, stretching and sitting down across from Harry. "My, but it's been a long day."

Harry grinned. Sirius snorted.

"Oh come on, Sirius, he needs to rest!" Harry protested. "The full moon's coming."

"I beg your pardon, but it is not!" said Sirius. "It's not for two weeks! Remus, what the hell have you been telling the children?"

Remus had the good grace to look very guilty. Harry looked shocked.

"I can't believe this. Lounging about while exhausted, hard-working teenagers scrub the floors? Shame on you!" Sirius said.

Remus raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth, probably to make a sarcastic crack about Sirius's own "layaboutery" when …

"Does anybody else hear that?" Harry interrupted.

Sirius and Remus listened. And then, very slowly, they all turned towards the old steel oven. It was rattling ominously, hardly a good sign. It took an encouraging nod apiece from Harry and Remus to get Sirius to open the oven door. But when he did … BOOM!

In an instant, the three of them (and the kitchen) were covered in warm, goopy, chocolate batter. Sirius looked like a giant, stunned, chocolate-dipped sugar wizard. Harry seemed to be wearing a chocolate mud mask, which looked even more realistic when he took off his glasses. Remus had got a face-full too, and the front of his robes was a mess.

All was still for a moment … until Remus and Harry started laughing like idiots. Sirius turned bright red, bellowed at them to shut up, and fired off a half-dozen creative curses at the oven, which swung its door open again and hit him with a blast of lukewarm grease. By now Harry and Remus were leaning on each other, howling helplessly.

"Aaargh! That's it! SCOURGIFY!" Sirius hollered, waving his wand around the entire kitchen.

Immediately the mess vanished, leaving everything and everyone perfectly clean, but the continued cackling of his godson and best mate raised Sirius's hackles marvelously, and he snarled and ground his teeth. Cheeky bastards, the pair of them! He whirled on Harry and Remus, lip curled, wand ready, and they stopped … sort of.

"Right, you, out!" Sirius snapped at Harry, who was desperately fighting down a smile. "Go help Ron with … I don't know … something!" (Harry left the kitchen at a run, now giggling madly.) "And get those Father Christmas hats on the elf heads!" he called after the boy, who managed to shouted back something in the affirmative.

"So I suppose I should go back to Diagon Alley and pick up a pudding for tonight?" Remus asked, trying to sound relaxed and not at all amused and completely failing.

"Please," Sirius replied, eyes narrowed and flashing.

They held each other's gaze for a long moment. Pulses slowed. Breathing quieted. Blood pressure dropped. And they listened. Silence; Harry was out of earshot.

"While you're there, stop by my vault in Gringotts and take out whatever you need."

Remus steepled his fingers. "What do you think for Harry, the Bloomfield set?"

"Yes. Make sure it's the University edition. And when you get back, could you put the pork chops in the oven? I think it likes you better, and I'm not about to ruin everything."

Remus nodded, stood up slowly, and set off. Sirius plopped down with the Prophet again, now in the middle of a spotless kitchen. He began to work on the crossword.

And Molly strode in.

"What the … What's this? I can't believe it! I go away for two hours and you haven't done ONE RUDDY THING! What's the matter with you?!"

"No! Molly, I …"

It was pointless to argue. Once Molly got going, there was no stopping her. Sirius put his head in his hands and began to count backwards from one hundred.

FINIS