For the Yearly Events Thread [Insane House Challenge] on the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Forum.
Remus puttered around the cottage kitchen, pots and pans clattering around him. The bubble of boiling water and heat of the oven filled the small room. James hovered in the corner, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.
"You don't have to cook, Moony."
"It's the least I can do," responded Remus, waving a dismissive hand. "You've given me so much. You paid for all the ingredients, for goodness sake."
James shook his head, but didn't say a word. After graduation, it had been difficult enough to convince Remus to accept any help at all. If cooking a meal made Remus feel better about the situation, then James was more than happy to let him do it. That didn't stop James from finding it incredibly awkward. After all, he had more money than he knew what to do with. To him, it made perfect sense to spare some of it to ensure that Remus had a roof over his head and a full pantry. Remus, on the other hand, was sure that made him a burden.
"I didn't even know you could cook."
"I couldn't." Remus' shoulders stiffened, and James immediately regretted his words. "But no one wants to hire me, so I've had a lot of free time on my hands. I figured learning to cook was as good a place to start as any. I think I'll take up knitting next."
James gave a forced laugh. "I'll expect a new jumper for winter then."
"No complaints if there are any holes." Remus turned from the stove top to give James a curious look. "Besides, I hear if Lily gets her way, I might be knitting for baby Potter..."
"Don't even say it," James said with a groan. "Can you imagine? Me? A dad? And in the middle of a bloody war?"
"I'm sure you'll rise to the challenge."
James cocked a brow. "Rising isn't exactly my concern, mate."
For that, Remus flicked a stray piece of pasta at his friend. "Well, I know that."
The two froze. It wasn't so bad. They'd managed a few seconds of normalcy, hadn't they? But yet again, a few misplaced words resulted in an uncomfortable haze. James cleared his throat, picking the pasta from his hair and dropping it into his mouth.
"S'good," he muttered, his cheeks flushed red. "Very...al dente."
"Al dente," Remus echoed, already turning back to the stove. "Perfect."
And because he couldn't think of anything else to say and the silence felt deafening, James said again, "You really didn't have to cook."
"I know."
