Brave [2]

Chapter 59

"DRACO!"

Suddenly Draco lets out a strange strangled sound between a huff and a groan, clutching his stomach in pain from where I jumped right on him shamelessly. "Damn it, Black! What does a guy have to do to get some sleep around here?"

"Be awake before twelve," I reply pointedly, and his eyes slowly flicker open before glancing at the clock, then closing again. "No! You can't stay in bed and mope – that's my thing! Besides, I've got something fun for us to do today."

"Your idea of fun seems to be very violent Quidditch," he mutters to himself, although I'm appeased when he shows no signs of going back to sleep, sounding much too alert for that. "I've still got the bruises from you throwing the Quaffle at me. And what fun could there possibly be with the party tomorrow?"

"You've never had me over for Christmas," I grin devilishly. "I'm going to make you regret it. Tomorrow's Christmas Eve and I had a tradition with my parents–"

"Remind me which set of parents–"

"Draco! Ellis and Maribel. The muggles," I add, rolling my eyes. "But I did it at Grimmauld and the Burrow, too. Fred always accompanied me, but now–"

"You want me to step in for your boyfriend?"

"Draco!" I give him a reproachful look. "No. I like doing it with my family. You're family by blood and you can't escape it, no matter what you do. So, we're going to make a cake–"

"Isn't that what House Elves are for?"

I whack him on the head with the pillow.

"Okay, okay!" he cries out, throwing his arms over his head, eyes snapping open in alarm. "Merlin knows I'm going to get myself dirty for you."

"Don't be so dramatic, it's just cake. Besides, you know you love me." He just scoffs before shoving me off the bed, and I yelp as I land with a thump on the carpet. "Just get dressed," I huff, pulling myself to my feet. "It's going to be fun!"

"This isn't what– HOW DO YOU DO THIS?" Draco whirls around to face me in a panic, broken eggshell all over his hands, fingers covered in yolk. "Why don't we just use magic? Honestly, Cassia, you always like taking the hardest route, don't you?"

"Oh, stop complaining," I grin, stirring in the flour, watching him struggle with the ninth egg in the last half an hour. "It's fun!"

"This is not fun." But it's obvious he's enjoying himself, just a little. It's better than Quidditch, though, considering we've mostly been playing to pass the time over the last week, apart from when I start studying and make Draco join me so he doesn't actually fail his N.E.W.T.s. Then again, with the way things are going this year, I'm not happy. Defence Against the Dark Arts was actually one of my N.E.W.T.s and without it, it's a bit... different.

"Okay, look at it this way," I try, picking up one of the eggs. "You have to be a bit gentler. Then..." I crack it easily into the bowl, handing him the second one. "It's a different kind of magic. Except you're doing it by hand."

"Defeats the purpose of magic," he scoffs, not buying it at all. "You just do the eggs. I'll stir." But the moment he takes the whisk from my hands and tries stir it around the bowl, a flour puffs out and into his face, making him gag.

"Not your cup of tea, is it?" I tease, cracking the eggs nonchalantly, watching him struggle.

He turns to me, although I can't take him seriously with flour in his hair and on his face. "Listen, Black," he points a waggling finger at me. "It's my first time ever making something in a ruddy kitchen, and if you don't give me a break then–"