A/N: this particular drabble came in 1st place, April 2007.
Mrs. Diggory watched as the yellow and clear contents of the shell spilled into the batter below. Tossing the remnants of the shell away she began stirring. She watched the flakes of dry ingredients slowly become dampened. Eventually a brown concoction sat smooth in the bottom of the bowl.
Ever since Cedric was little, Mrs. Diggory had taken up the tradition of making a cake muggle-style with him on his birthday. No matter how busy they were, they'd find the time. If he were away on that day it would be the first thing they did when he returned. As she slid the batter into the borough oven alone her heartstrings grew taut.
She would never be able to do this with him again. She'd never see him try to sneak a lick of the batter. He wouldn't smudge her face with it. She'd declare another frosting war. She'd never see him take the first welcomed bite into the warm dessert.
Regardless, she'd continue with this practice. When it was done, she'd take the cake to his premature resting place. She'd smear a little frosting on the marker, and in the wind and wafting smell hear his laughter once more.