Looking at a page in the cookbook, Harry frowned before sniffing the air again. Was it supposed to smell like that?
Hermione had come up with the idea that he should cook dinner for Sirius and himself, prepare a romantic meal by candlelight. He had no idea at the time and still no idea now of how that would do anything, but had agreed to it anyway. But apparently after nearly seven years without cooking the Dursleys' breakfast, his cooking skills had disappeared without a trace. He was so busy trying to fix it, the spaghetti sauce starting to smoke, that he didn't see Sirius come through the door, a bouquet of roses in hand. He cursed loudly and heard a familiar laugh. Standing still, he turned slowly and saw Sirius smiling at him, his hands behind his back.
The grin disappeared as he sniffed the air.
"What's that horrible smell? Did something die in here?"
"I'm making dinner, if you need to ask," Harry replied indignantly and turned back to the pot. He felt Sirius come up next to him and nearly jumped out of his skin when the older man put a hand over his shoulder to get a closer look. The smoking had gotten worse and Harry coughed as it filled his lungs. He felt a jerking and Sirius pulled him back as a flame flared up exactly where his face was seconds before. The roses were dropped as both fled the room to avoid the fire.
Two hours later, both faces were red with shame as the Ministry Department of Emergencies left with disapproving looks. Using their wands to put it out hadn't occurred to either of them and they'd flooed the ministry in a panic. Both looked over the remains of their kitchen. By the time they'd got there to put it out, it had spread and they'd been told they were lucky they even had a home left.
"I'm sorry Sirius, I never knew this would happen," Harry said for the fifth time since it had been put out. Sirius gave him a tired smile and shook his head.
"It doesn't matter, Harry. It could have happened to anyone, he said softly. "Do you want me to go out and get something? I think The Leaky Cauldron serves dinner around this time…"
"It's okay, I'm just going to go to bed anyway. Thanks for asking," he said and went into his room, closing he door behind him with one last smile at Sirius.
Looking at the charred remains once more, Sirius decided that he could clean it up in the morning. It was Sunday tomorrow and Harry would probably sleep late anyway. He sighed once more. It had taken him so long to actually buy those roses. First Remus had to convince him, saying Harry would know it was romantic because of his Muggle-upbringing, and then actually buying them.
He had the money, of course, but what if someone saw? Occasionally they would find a photograph of the two together in The Daily Prophet. The Wizarding World's obsession over their saviour and his recent defeat of Voldemort hadn't quite worn off yet. If he was caught buying them, they would know it was for Harry and there would be another flood of stories, every word of it rumours and lies
Eventually he'd convinced himself that it didn't matter. Everybody could know how he felt about Harry. As long as Harry knew it first, right? And if Remus was wrong and he didn't return his feelings…Well then there was nothing to be done but hide away ashamed for a few days and move on. He'd already lost sixteen years of his life to Azkaban and hiding. He wasn't going to spend the rest of his days brooding over it.
He knelt down by what used to be the stove and picked up a few burnt petals in his hand. Well, there's what fate thought of that gesture…