Who: Blaise Zabini, Hannah Abbott
Where: 8 Hufflepuff Way, Helga’s Hill
When: 7 April 2001, morning
It was time for some more coffee in Blaise’s caffeine stream. After all, it was far too early on Sunday morning for any firewhiskey. Blaise set the coffee pot brewing, meandering around the overly cheery kitchen as he tried to find something for breakfast (just how old were those leftovers from Falafelly Good, by the way?) and setting out his favourite mug.
He sighed, grumbling to himself. He’d come to Helga’s Hill to get away from various things and now his mother had gone and moved in across the road. Fan-bloody-tastic. Not that he didn’t love her, of course he did, but they both had their own lives these days. Why did she have to come and intrude on his? Well, Orpington was one reason. Blaise just hoped that she wasn’t going to do anything stupid like marry the man.
The smell of coffee exerted its calming influence over him and Blaise ran a hand over his hair, yawning. Maybe it would be nothing to worry about. She’d get bored soon enough.
Hannah had been lying in bed, awake, debating whether the pros of coffee outweighed the cons of getting out of bed on the one morning that she didn’t have to get Kirley out of bed. She’d been coming up short on an answer until the smell of coffee drifted in. The pros of already made coffee were enough to get her up. She ran her fingers through her hair and straightened her t-shirt and sleep shorts before wandering into the kitchen.
“Morning,” she said, heading straight for the icebox. Nothing. She sighed. “Why don’t waffles just appear from nowhere?”
“What a delicious thought,” Blaise said, automatically finding another mug for Hannah. “Someone should make that happen. Somehow.” Just not him. He’d never made waffles in his life and didn’t really intend to start.
“There might be some scones in that cake tin,” he offered, nodding towards it. Without coffee, he couldn’t be bothered to point. “Or I think we have bread. I was pondering good old-fashioned toast.” If they were in possession of bread, the question then became whether they had any marmalade.
Pouring the coffee, he asked, “Sleep well?”
“Well enough, thanks. You?” Hannah asked, going to inspect first the cake tin and then the bread box. The scones were rock hard and there was not enough bread for two people (plus it had some rather questionable looking spots, so Hannah was inclined to forfeit her share anyway).
Wrinkling her nose, she thought about their options. Even if she did have the capability and the ingredients to make pancakes (and the latter was certainly doubtful), she didn’t think that they had anything to put on them. She supposed they could go grocery shopping but she’d already been to the market once that week and with very mixed results.
“We could order breakfast in,” she suggested. “Does Higher Grounds deliver?”
Blaise pushed Hannah’s coffee towards her, then took a blissful sip of his own. Stress over his mother’s new abode meant he’d broken out the good stuff.
“No,” he said wistfully, “not as far as I’m aware. But I suppose I could pop over.” Unlike Hannah, he didn’t have bed hair that needed to be sorted. A benefit of keeping his short, he supposed. “It shouldn’t be too busy over there.” Blaise took another sip. “But I guess grocery shopping ought to be on the agenda for today at some point.”
Hannah breathed in the smell of her coffee and took a long sip before shooting Blaise a grateful look. Honestly, the best thing about their flatmate pairing was that they both knew how to appreciate and make an excellent cup of coffee. Actually, there were a surprisingly large number of good things about their flatmate pairing, but Hannah chose not to examine them too closely lest the whole thing go to hell.
“Would you?” she asked. “That would be ace. I just can’t face shopping and lists until I’m properly fed.”
“Yes, I think I can manage that.” Reluctantly, Blaise set down his coffee. He could probably get to Higher Grounds and back before it had even cooled. “What do you want?” Now that he was going out, a bacon sandwich appealed. Or maybe hot, fresh croissants, the perfect accompaniment to his coffee.
He casually Summoned his cloak and some shoes. Blaise held out his arm, the cloak draping over it, while the shoes landed nicely at his feet.
“Waffles, please,” Hannah said. “With whipped cream. And a side of bacon.”
She sipped at her coffee and smiled at him unrepentantly. She rarely ate so heavily, but she also knew that she could if she liked. The amount of days that Hannah spent running after Kirley fueled on nothing but breath mints and very strong coffee meant that she wasn’t in any danger of not fitting into her trousers.
“I’ll do my best to get you some waffles, then.”
She looked entirely too pleased that he was going to fetch breakfast, Blaise thought. When had he starting getting so generous? He gave a slight shake of his head. Maybe the Hufflepuffness of this town was rubbing off on him. Luckily, very little could persuade him to start wearing yellow any time soon.
“Don’t drink all the coffee while I’m gone.”
“I’ll make another pot if I do,” Hannah said, rolling her eyes. Though, now that he mentioned it, that was entirely impossible. She poured herself a second mug and then set about getting a second pot read to brew when necessary.
Humming softly to herself, she open the windows in the kitchen and let the sunshine in. It was rather a beautiful day, actually. She frowned slightly when she caught sight of Blaise’s mother’s new cottage. That was an interesting development that they’d yet to discuss.
Blaise returned from Higher Grounds in good time, bearing waffles and bacon for Hannah and pastries for himself after the smell of freshly-baked croissants had proved too much to resist while waiting in line.
The house still smelled perfectly of coffee. It was almost homely, if Blaise would dare to allow that word in his vocabulary. Regardless, it was something nice to come home to. “Do you have the whole day off?” he asked Hannah, passing over her breakfast
“I do,” Hannah said with a nod, slipping into one of the stools at their island counter and opening up her takeaway container. Breathing it in deeply, she smiled. Perfect. “Kirley is doing the quality time thing with his kid today and, luckily, he doesn’t expect me to schedule that for him.”
Good thing too. Because she wouldn’t have. Babysitting as part of her duties she was fine with, but she wasn’t going to teach Kirley how to parent his child because it wasn’t like she had any bloody idea how to do such a thing.
“Thanks for this,” she said, nodding to the food.
“Unlike every other aspect of his life.” Kirley Duke seemed to need everything scheduled for him, Blaise thought. He couldn’t understand how anyone could be quite so bad at handling their own affairs. Of course, not everyone was as organised as Blaise. The lack of food in the house today was the exception, not the rule.
“No problem,” Blaise said, hunting out the one remaining pot of jam in their kitchen, then grabbing himself a knife. “It’ll be your turn to go next time,” he added with a smile.
“Sure, of course,” Hannah agreed amiably. She had no problem with being the one to fetch breakfast the next time they needed to. Fair was fair after all. And she could always throw her hair up in a messy bun and wear dark glasses. It wouldn’t be the end of the world.
She took a few thoughtful, blissful bites of her waffles, drank half a cup of coffee, and munched down an entire piece of bacon before she spoke again. “So, I sort of told your mum on the journals that we’d have her over to dinner so she could see the cottage?”
She wasn’t entirely sure how that had happened. Clearly her Hufflepuff politeness had gotten the better of her.
About to start his second croissant, Blaise stuck the knife into the jam a little more forcefully than intended. He frowned, continuing with his actions as he composed himself.
“Well, that’s very kind of you. I’m sure she appreciates the offer.”
“Yeah,” Hannah said, eyes widening slightly as she noticed the slight increase of force that the knife went into the jam pot with. Whoops? She hadn’t thought that Blaise would really mind. Audie Zabini was his mother, after all.
Even if she was, you know, potentially a serial killer. Hannah closed her eyes against that thought. She really didn’t want to think about that.
“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you first,” she said, opening her eyes again and spearing a big bite of waffle with her fork. “But she just moved in across the street and it seemed rude not to extend the invitation, you know?”