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"I feel bad leaving them down there," I sighed, distractedly watching the whisk stir the tomato sauce.

Once Draco and I made our way back upstairs, deciding it was probably time to eat something ourselves, I insisted on making the food together.

No house-elf had to prepare pasta and tomato sauce; it simply didn't feel like it was worth their time and effort. That and the fact that watching Draco try to cook really was a sight for sore eyes.

His brows were knitted together tightly, so focused on adding just the right amount of salt to the sauce. If I hadn't just brought up such a serious topic, I probably would've laughed at the scene.

It took him a moment to register my words, his hand lowering in defeat as the pinch of salt in between his fingers fell to the floor. He shook his head in frustration at the seemingly hard task of seasoning.

"I know. Me too. But there's not much we can do," He shrugged, a hint of disappointment in his voice as his gaze lingered on me for a moment. Eyes darting back and forth between me and the sauce, he scrunched up his nose before another sigh left his lips.

Lost in his own thoughts, he bit his lip in concentration as he reached for the salt. "How much is a pinch of salt? Can't these muggles just use normal measuring units?" He grumbled, visibly annoyed.

This time, a singular laugh passed by my lips, and I shook my head at his perfectionistic nature.

"Would you look at that," I teased. "Mister outstanding-in-potions can't even make a proper tomato sauce," I mumbled, amusement lacing my voice.

He groaned in annoyance, throwing a glare my way, "If you're so good at it, why don't you do it?"

"Well, it's much more entertaining this way, don't you think?" I huffed, though hopped off the marble countertop to stand beside him. "You know, there's no need for you to try and do everything so utterly perfect," I murmured, shaking my head as I grabbed a generous amount of salt and just tossed into the now boiling sauce.

The enchanted whisk immediately started stirring and mixing quicker, seemingly happy to finally have a task.

A little bewildered, Draco followed my movements as I reached for the pepper and added some.

"What recipe are you following?" He asked, his arms crossed in front of his chest and a brow quirked.

"It's called a gut-feeling, Draco. You should really try it sometimes," I responded flatly, rolling my eyes. "So who cooked their meals, then? It clearly wasn't you." I added some basil as well as oregano before hopping back onto the empty countertop next to the stove.

He scoffed, pretending to be offended by my remarks before he decided to answer, "One of the house-elves."

I raised an eyebrow, expecting the answer, though being puzzled by it, anyway.

"And you trust them?" I wondered, tilting my head as he began walking over towards me. He nodded. "How come?"

"She noticed how- uh, unwell I was after what happened to you during summer," He began, scratching the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact.

I guess the memory of watching me get tortured wasn't the most pleasant in his eyes, either.

"And she offered to help. They don't usually do that; the house-elves. They're my fathers; so they serve him. What Larbey did could've very well ended in her own death. So, I figured I can still trust her now."

I smiled as he mentioned the kind house-elves name. "I remember Larbey," I hummed to myself, remembering the book she brought me under Draco's instructions.

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