The Wizarding Award Scheme Programme (or W.A.S.P. for short)

4. Behind the Masks

'Professor Potter?' Miranda asked quietly as she magically held the levitated kettle over the fire under his direction to boil some water so they could make hot chocolates. 'How do you know all this stuff?'

'Which stuff in particular, Miranda?'

'The practical stuff and the cooking stuff too?' she asked.

'Well, I've picked up a lot of the practical stuff as the years have gone by, but also Auror training taught me a lot, and as for the cooking, well, the easiest explanation is that I learnt from a very early age.'

The dinner had been a success, Harry had planned a basic vegetarian pasta with a pesto sauce with a load of fried-up peppers, sweetcorn, and onions, and in another pan, strips of bacon were fried and could be added if anyone wanted meat. He got them to prepared it using a combination of magical and muggle skills; he saw no reason why anyone should torture themselves cutting up onions when a simple magic spell could do it for you and without any of the tears. The group had decided between them Miranda, Lilith, Kyle and Blake would cook dinner and breakfast the first night and the following morning, then Emily, Patty, Jacob and Pedro would take their turn the following night and morning and so on going forward. Those who weren't cooking were in charge of washing up.

Malfoy had flapped a bit when Harry had suggested roasting Marshmallows, but then again, when wasn't the blond man going to panic about something every five minutes. Harry didn't know whether to be amused or annoyed. Either way, sticks had been foraged and de-barked, and the bag handed round, and the young wizards and witches seemed to enjoy themselves immensely. Even Draco deigned to join in because Lilith made him have one of her melted and gooey Marshmallows after he'd quietly admitted that he'd never cooked marshmallows over an open fire before. That, for Harry, made the week and they'd only just started. Just seeing those grey eyes widen as the smoky caramelised sweetness hit his taste buds.

Darkness was settling in around them; the fire had been stoked up to create healthy warming flames and the 'washing-up crew' had disappeared down to the stream to complete their duty. Harry could see two wands sending out suitably bright 'lumos' spells down by the water as the other two were obviously managing the scrubbing spells. He smiled contentedly and stretched out on the low camping chair, his feet pointing towards the fire. And he couldn't help slyly studying the blond-haired man next to him and the fire-light caught his features, sending deep shadows across his angular face and bathing it in a welcoming glowing light. The effect was so enthralling that Harry forced himself to draw his gaze away and watch the flickering orange flames instead before any of the kids caught on that he was once again ogling his contemporary. Not that Harry's sexuality was a secret, no, that had been well publicised and, in the early days, his relationships were followed avidly by the press since he'd come out. It's just it wasn't very professional and it would cause untold problems with gossip around the school.

The evening around the campfire focused around the following day's route planning, arrangements, and the meeting points for the Award Scheme's first expedition walks. Then everyone was packed off to bed to get a good night's rest.

Once he was certain that everyone had settled down in their tents and were quiet for the night, Harry did one finally check around the camp and retired to bed. Malfoy had already gone ahead and Harry smiled to see his boots neatly placed by the doorway, there was a sense of wishful homeliness about the sight.

Trying to make as little noise as possible, he cast a quick scourify and mouthwash spell as he made his way to his bedroom pod, snuffing out the lights as he went and, in the pitch dark, Harry carefully lifted back the curtain. He stepped inside and silently banished his clothes to the corner. Then he slipped beneath the purple and teal duvet, relishing the feeling of the cool tent air and fresh clean sheets against his naked skin. He pulled up the heavy Alpaca-wool throw over his legs and turned onto his side, gliding his hand across the 1000-thread Egyptian cotton sheet beneath the duvet, following the smoothness. He sighed contentedly. Despite the associations with his year on the run, he still loved camping, especially now he did it in shameless luxury.