To my surprise, it was Lockwood making breakfast. "Gah!" George said. "My kitchen is destroyed," I raised my eyebrows at him, and then at the kitchen, then at Lockwood. Even though I despised George, it didn't mean that he didn't cook well. In fact, he was an excellent cook. Sadly, it didn't go well with Lockwood. The scent of something burning filled the kitchen. In where I imagine three people we know best at a certain place called 35 Portland Row start a fight early morning on which doughnut is better, jelly or plain. *throw in some adventure, crushes, best friends and vacations and there's a pretty generic fic*
26 parts