Muggles ✧ Drarry

᥊𝓲᥊

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.9ᴋ
ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ: ᴀᴘʀɪʟ 11ᴛʜ, 2021
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"Okay okay, now try to conjure pancakes with Pansy's face burnt into the top."

Draco let out a large laugh at the sound of Potter's suggestion, and nearly fell over onto the numerous weird foods that they had already conjured. His long, draping scarf fell into a pot of anchovy marmalade. The smell was less than pleasant, and Draco gagged as he pulled the woollen thing out of the awful "food". He unraveled the scarf and threw it, though it was impressively long, and simply stretched the length of the room that vaguely resembled a dance studio. It fell with a 'splat' sound, and he grimaced. Potter laughed, falling backwards so that only his bottom half was left on the bizarre picnic blanket that he had had Draco conjure just an hour or so ago.

They were here, Draco and Potter, having a picnic in which they didn't eat a thing. Coming up with the most bizarre foods they could think of had been the name of the game, until they had gotten bored of competing and just begun creating weird requests. The scarf—stretching almost three metres long and incredibly vomit coloured—had been a horrible gift from Potter, who had spontaneously conjured it for no reason other than to frustrate Draco.

There were cakes made out of bugs shaped like Voldemort, sandwiches consisting of actual sand, a surprise filled cookies (the surprise was glass in the middle). There were drinks made of swamp water, ice creams made of pulverised meats, and a basket woven out of shedded snake skin to hold all of it. Draco had shrieked when the basket had appeared in his lap, and it had knocked over a glass of swamp water lemonade, which Potter had mopped up with the other end of the scarf.

The pancakes were the tamest suggestion yet, and Draco took the challenge readily. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, imagining what it would be like to hold a stack of pancakes with Pansy's face burnt into the surface. He smelled them, felt them, tasted them, saw them, and then, looked down to see that he was holding them.

Potter sat up from his relaxed position on his back to peer at Draco's handiwork. The pancakes looked alright, save for the scowling Pansy Parkinson outline staring right back at them. Draco averted his eyes, feeling pressed under the stares of his best friend on breakfast. Even in pancake form Pansy was terrifying.

Potter let out a low whistle. "That's a success. It even captured the look of disappointment in her eyes."

Draco spared one more look at the pancakes, and agreed with the Boy Wonder's assessment. Pancake Pansy looked as if she had expected better from him, and he shuddered, setting the glass plate that they were on down with a small thud against the ground. The impact was muffled through the blanket, but the clear sound of glass hitting wood rang out around the room. Draco winced at the sound.

He turned to look at Potter once more, seeing that the man in question was eating a bowl of freshly conjured strawberries and staring at the scarf that stretched across the room. He had a look of contemplation on his face, and the Healer wondered what was going on in Potter's mind. It couldn't be anything good, if it had him so focused that he almost ate the stems of the strawberries along with the rest of the fruit.

After a moment, Potter's green eyes shifted from the scarf to Draco. They made eye-contact.

"What?" Potter asked, setting the strawberries down with the rest of the conjured items.

"What what?" Draco asked in response. "You're the one who looked at me."

Potter smiled slightly, tilting his head to the side to reveal his confusion. "You were looking at me before I was looking at you," he said. "I felt your eyes on me," he teased, crawling over to sit right before Draco.