Welcome, again, to the fifteenth chapter of Au Pair! I enjoyed all of your dreams immensely; thank you all so much for sharing! Here is mine: I once dreamt that I was married to Johnny Depp, and I was really rich and happy with him. We lived together with our children in somewhere in France. One time, I took them all to see the Eiffel Tower, and one of them fell off and died. And then, the dream changed, and I was surrounded by this huge chocolate mountain, and I really wanted to eat it, but my lips were stuck together. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't separate them. It was truly horrible.
Thanks, everyone, for the reviews for To Die Laughing! I really appriciate them! The next chapter will be up soon!
Disclaimer: (I'm so sick of these) No!
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By the time Harry wandered into the kitchen the next morning, it was already nine o'clock, and everyone was gone. This took him by surprise, because if he wasn't awake by seven, Uncle Vernon or one of the other Dursleys would usually come rambling into his cupboard (room, at the time) and shake him until he was up and running. But it seemed that with the arrival of Tabitha, they hadn't needed him up so early anymore. Harry added "more sleep" to his mental list of things to thank her for.
He was not surprised to find several dirty dishes stacked up in the sink. It appeared that they had all already eaten breakfast. Harry had expected Tabitha to be around there somewhere, scrubbing or cooking or whatever, but found her absent. Shrugging, Harry moseyed over to the refrigerator and found a few items with which to make breakfast for himself. There was not a lot left, though, probably due to Petunia's constantly changing diet and the size of Dudley's appetite. Maybe they'll want me to go shopping, Harry wondered hopefully. In the past, his aunt and uncle had never trusted him with handling their money, no doubt thinking that he would run off with it, or bring back potion supplies with which to poison their meals or something similar. But he had been handling the grocery shopping since he had gotten back from Hogwarts, since Aunt Petunia seldom wanted to leave her bed, let alone the house.
Harry finished his meal after a short while, and placed his dish on top of the others. Whistling and looking for something to occupy the time, he spotted the kitchen day-to-day calendar. It was several days behind. Crossing the room to get to it, Harry ripped several slips of paper and sat back down at the table to admire his work.
Friday, July 19th, the calendar read. This meant several things to Harry. The first, and most obvious, was that there was one day left until the weekend. Usually this wouldn't have made much of a difference to him, since he, until recently, was given mountain loads of chores during every day of his stay with the Dursleys. But now, Harry had a free Saturday. He wondered vaguely if his aunt and uncle would let him do anything for it. Maybe he would get in touch with the Weasleys and see if he could go over to the Burrow for the day to play a game of Quidditch.
The date also meant something else to Harry. In only twelve days, he would be turning sixteen. Birthdays were never a big deal for Harry. The Dursleys almost always either ignored it, or gave him insulting presents that blatantly showed their disregard for him. However, he could look forward to gifts and cards from his friends. And there was always Tabitha. Perhaps she could make him feel a little better about his upcoming birthday.
Just as Harry was thinking this, the front door opened and slammed shut, and Tabitha walked into the kitchen from the front entrance.
"Oh, hello," she smiled when she noticed him sitting at the kitchen table. She was tugging several plastic shopping bags and looked extremely weighed down. Harry hurried over to help her before she dropped them.
"Thank you, Harry," Tabitha said, placing a few bags on the kitchen counter. "I've just been grocery shopping. We were emptied out!" She carefully rested the rest of the bags on the floor.
"Let me help you put those away," Harry offered. He reached into one of the bags, and pulled out a carton of milk, flour, eggs, and sugar. "Are you planning on baking?" He asked, observing the standard ingredients. Harry reached above his head to put the sugar and flour boxes away into a cabinet.
"Maybe. If I have time later on." Tabitha stuffed the milk and eggs into the refrigerator, and let the door close on its own. With both parties doing their share, it didn't take much longer to get all of the groceries into their appropriate spots. Tabitha crumpled the empty shopping bags and put them in the trash when they were finished, sighing.
She turned back to Harry, and the two looked at each other. An awkward silence passed over them. It seemed that both were trying to bring up their conversation from the previous night, but their embarrassment was catching up with them. I should have known this would be weird, Harry scolded himself. After a few moments, Harry tried to speak.
"Look, about last -"
"I can understand if -"
A nervous giggle passed between them. "You go first." Harry instructed her.
Tabitha shook her head. "No, you wanted to say something."
"Alright. Well, I wanted to thank you. And, er, I was wondering…how about we just don't talk about it anymore?"
Tabitha's face fell. This didn't seem to be the answer she wanted, but she recovered quickly anyway. "Erm, yes, fine." Another silence. "Harry, if you're not going to be busy later, would you be interested in helping me with this cake?"
Harry was grateful for the subject change. "So that's what you're making, then? Yeah, sure, it sounds like a plan."
o-o
"Harry, no! That's baking powder, not baking soda!" Lily warned her son, gripping the teaspoon he was measuring out carefully and guiding it over to the sink.
"Yes, sorry. My mistake." Harry shamefully dumped the small spoonful of powder down the drain and reached for another box to correct his mistake.
Lily had finished her duties earlier than she'd expected (her usual cooking responsibilities, plus removing ivy off of the back of the house) and had found time to bake with Harry. It was now three o'clock, and Petunia was, as usual, lying in her room. Dudley, given the option of staying home (and eating) or going to work with his father (and eating), vied for the second option, and the two Dursley men hadn't been heard from since nine that morning. This was perfectly fine with Lily, who had the whole day to spend with Harry. And, after those few moments of discomfort earlier, the whole day had been going splendidly. Harry was his usual overly helpful self, and helped her de-ivy the outside wall while she started dinner. Lily had complained to Harry about his job, claiming that the wall looked better with the gentle ivy leaves climbing up the brickwork. It gave the house more character. Harry had agreed, but added that the house looked even better without their heads smashed against the brick just because they had disobeyed Petunia.
"Thanks for those beautiful mental images," Lily had muttered, before turning back to her stew.
When they had both finished, Lily and Harry had leafed through Petunia's cookbooks, and a book of recipes that Lily had brought herself, just incase. They had finally found a recipe for pound cake that didn't look too complicated but not too disgusting. Double-checking to make sure they had all the necessary ingredients, Harry gave Lily a thumbs-up, and they started the baking.
Lily was an excellent cook, but she had only discovered this after leaving Hogwarts, much to James' surprise and delight. James always used to tell her that her talents in the kitchen shouldn't have shocked her so much, seeing as Potions had been one of her best subjects, right after Charms. He had gone on to explain how similar the two were, what with following directions exactly and using precise ingredients to create a product both necessary and, usually, ingestible. Lily, blushing with pleasure, had agreed with him, although when she looked back on the memory now, she realized James had most likely complimented her so because he had wanted another piece of strawberry tart.
Harry, as Lily observed now, seemed not to have inherited her gift for the culinary arts. He couldn't tell the difference between a teaspoon and a tablespoon or a dry measure and a liquid measure. This was the second time that he'd mistaken baking powder for baking soda, and they'd had to start the dry mix all over again. Lily was trying her hardest to help Harry improve his baking skills, or at the very least, prevent him from ruining the cake.
"Careful, careful, it's only a half a cup of white sugar, the other half is a combination of brown sugar and confectioner's sugar!" Lily quickly grabbed the dry measuring cup from Harry's hand and dumped its contents into a large metal bowl. She did this, not noticing the look on Harry's face, or the words he was muttering:
"…should introduce her…Hermione…"
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"Do you think I'll be able to pour the milk without ruining it?" Harry asked, feigning concern.
"Yeah, sure. Right...four…five…four – no, that's five…" Lily was busy concentrating on counting the number of scoops she had drawn from the sugar bowl.
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Harry pulled out the new carton of milk from the fridge and poured 2/3 of a cup into the liquid measurer, which he had been introduced to only ten minutes previous. He sat added that to the mixture and began to stir.
"Hold on just a second…" Tabitha cracked two eggs over the bowl so that the wet powder now had a liquid-y yellow tinge to it. "Okay, I'll mix that, and you add in the flour."
Harry grabbed the heavy sack of flour and held it upside down. Carefully, he tore a slit in it so that the powder would be able to rush gently and neatly out of the bag.
o-o
In theory, this was a good plan. But Harry had little experience with baking, and didn't quite realize just how idiotic dumping an open bag of flour upside down really was.
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Cascades of pale flour came gushing out of the brown paper bag when it ripped open, literally raining down on Harry and Tabitha. They both fell to the ground clutching their heads with their arms and squinting their eyes shut. When they both thought it was over, they slowly rose, fearing the amount of damage Harry had done.
The Dursleys' kitchen, once gleaming thanks to Tabitha's cleaning skills, was covered in snow. Or so it seemed. Every inch of space was caked – no pun intended - with flour, from the counter tops, to the appliances sitting tidily in their cubbyholes, to the black-and-white (technically now gray-and-white) tiles that covered the kitchen floor. Harry took a glance at Tabitha. Her tightly drawn black hair was completely faded, and the flour that had covered her face made lines in her forehead and cheeks. That, together with the expression on her face, made Harry burst out laughing.
"Look...at…yourself!" Harry pointed weakly to a mirror hanging on the wall opposite them. He couldn't tell her this, of course, but she could have passed for a sister of his Transfiguration teacher, Professor McGonagall! Tabitha stood and observed herself in the mirror. Harry could see her face contorting from angry to shocked to amused, in a matter of seconds. Tabitha finally joined him, laughing hysterically, especially when she caught a glimpse of Harry.
They didn't stop laughing until nearly ten minutes later, when Tabitha suggested they clean up before she got any older.
"Older-looking, that is." She added with a wink, sending Harry into another stream of uncontrollable laugher.
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This chapter is a bit longer than usual…which reminds me of something I wanted to ask you all: Several people have asked me to make the chapters longer. I could do that (making each chapter from now on around the length of this one), but it would take me longer to update. Maybe like six or seven days as opposed to four or five. But it's your decision!
I forgot to mention this in the last few chapters, but review replies are on my profile, and they always will be, even if I forget to remind you!
Trivia Question: Who can explain the meaning of this chapter title? It's not hard!
Happy Fourth (if I don't update by then, which is unlikely)!
LaRohaZeta