Chrysalis

Chapter 3

Dinner had gone surprisingly well. Potter had insisted they make spaghetti and meatballs, and he had put Draco in charge of the meat. He'd been a touch squeamish about getting his hands dirty, but once he'd gotten into it, it had been kind of fun, really. Once he'd finished them, Potter had given him the task of making garlic bread, and Draco had found that even easier. Maybe this cooking for yourself thing wasn't so bad.

Potter had also insisted he set the table, and after a short argument, which had been mostly on Draco's side, he had handed him plates and cups, showed him where the silverware was, and left him to it. Draco had not had a problem with the placement of the dishes, but when he'd gone to retrieve the cutlery, he'd run into a slight difficulty.

"P—um, Harry..."

Potter had turned from the pot of sauce he'd been stirring "Yes?"

Draco looked down at the silverware in the drawer. "Which ones am I supposed to use?"

Potter shrugged. "Just the usual. It's not a fancy meal or anything..."

As though that was supposed to help. "I'm not sure what that means, really," Draco finally said in exasperation, looking at all of the different pieces there were. "How many of these do we need each?"

Potter turned to him, incredulous. "Draco, we're just having spaghetti. A knife and a fork would be enough, though a big spoon might be helpful."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "That's all?" Draco was used to even family meals requiring several pieces of silverware. He couldn't imagine a meal with less than five.

Potter laughed. "How much silverware do you usually use, Draco?"

Draco scowled at him. Like he'd paid attention to details like that. That was servant's work. "I never really paid much attention, beyond using the right piece for the right dish. If I needed it, it was there."

"How many pieces did you tend to have?"

Draco thought about it, and began to count them off on his fingers as he spoke. "At the very least, there was the salad fork, the dinner fork, a soup spoon, a dessert spoon, and a butter knife. And, if we were having meat, a steak knife."

"So what you're telling me is you're used to having meals where you have at least five pieces of silverware?" Potter asked, incredulous.

"I guess."

Potter snorted. "Well, I live a much simpler life, Draco. So do you, now."

Draco scowled. As though he'd wanted to be here. "And if I didn't want to?" he asked, annoyed.

Potter turned back to him. "Draco, this isn't the time. If, some day, you feel the need to turn the tables on me and show me how much I don't know about your life, then you'll have to earn the right to do that first, won't you?"

Draco looked at him a long moment before he responded. "Fine." Annoyed, but at least slightly aware that Potter was right, he pulled out two of each piece of the silverware Potter had mentioned, and finished setting the table.

Draco was surprised just how wonderful the food tasted once he began to eat. He wondered if all food made by human hands tasted this good, of if it might not have something to do with the fact that he'd helped make it. Whatever the reason, food had never tasted more delicious.

They settled down to watch a movie that night. Potter had told him it was called Stand By Me. The title hadn't made much sense to Draco, but he hadn't cared. He was more interested in seeing the 'Telly' work again.

He was surprised at how much he felt pulled into the story. He even found himself identifying with one of the boys, despite the fact that the boy was almost nothing like him.