Forget Me Not

Tuesday part II

"Potter!" I exclaimed, slapping his hand away from the cheese sauce that sat bubbling on the stove.

"Sorry," he grinned. "It just looks so good."

We had had lunch not even three hours ago. I will admit though, this sauce looked pretty darn delectable. I lifted the lid to the large pot of meat simmering on the stovetop. The steam threatening to bite down on my arms in its rage. I waited for it to calm down, heaping the contents of the pot onto a teaspoon.

"Here, taste this." I waved it in front of his face.

Potter didn't hesitate to stuff the spoon into his mouth, chewing carefully before swallowing. "More salt." He licked his lips.

I tested it myself, nodded in agreement and stirred in some more ground salt.

"Mm, that's the good stuff." I tasted it one last time, before scooping some into a large rectangular pan.

I carefully layered a few lasagne sheets on top of it.

"Cheese it," I instructed James who did so immediately. He poured the sauce evenly on top of the lasagne sheets.

We repeated this process a few times, eventually filling the dish and putting even more cheese on the final layer.

The oven door slammed shut, our marvellous creation disappearing behind the hot metal wall.

*

"Under seven," I said, placing the card on the impressively large stack in front of me.

James groaned, scooping up the pile and adding it to his hand. We were playing Shithead, or Johnny Bagel if my Mum or Dad was around, and I was winning.

So far we were two to four, this being the closest game yet; sometimes the deals were terrible and you'd end up just picking up what they were putting down—quite literally. This time, however, I was confident in the tens I had stored in my spread.

I placed down two fours, finally. I had been waiting to get rid of those bloody things since James made me pick up last time. I picked up two cards, glancing at them. Jack and Ace, not too shabby.

"Thank Merlin," James said, piling four fives on top of them.

"Oh my God," I said placing the whole stack in the burn pile and starting a new one with my Jack.

Eventually, we were both down to our last three cards, face down on the table in front of us.

"Your turn," I said.

He flipped his first card, placing it face up between us. It was a four, lucky.

"Go ahead," he smiled cheekily, folding his hands on the table.

I flipped mine. Nine. I breathed a sigh of relief; if I had any power cards, I'm glad I hadn't picked them yet.

James turned his next one over. "Under seven," he said.

I didn't hesitate to flip my next card. Three, invisible.

"Under seven," I repeated.

James picked up his final card.

"Six," he grinned.

I laughed at the odds, watching his smile get even wider. That seemed to make me laugh even more. It was like being back in the common room with Alice, Marlene and Mary again, clutching at our sides at random comments any of us made, that seemed to appear hilarious at the time. This was different though, I thought to myself.

This was nice.

The moment was cut short by the kitchen timer going off, reminding us to check the food that was probably getting a little crispy by now.

"Dinner's ready." I stood up, moving away from the kitchen table as quick as I could.

It took him a moment before he joined me, a small smile still lingered on his lips. Cute.

I found myself smiling again. I figured it was contagious, the only explanation I found myself able to accept. He himself hadn't changed much since the last time I saw him at the station, but last time my heart rate wasn't through the roof. It felt like it was about to beat right out of my chest. I couldn't imagine what I'd do if he heard it, though I wouldn't be surprised. My cheeks turned red at the thought.

"Plates?" I heard him ask, breaking me away from my thoughts.

"Oh, here," I fumbled with the overhead cabinet.

I shouldn't be embarrassed, but I was. James Potter, what are you doing to me?