Harry had never felt like this before.
He has loved food since he was a child and has never been unable to eat. Although Charles loves his son very much, he pays attention to his upbringing. Therefore, Harry does not have the habit or thoughts of overeating, even if he feels sad every winter and vomits. It's definitely a condition that rarely happens to him... Oh, yes, he doesn't get motion sickness very much, just look at how he can spin 360 degrees on a broomstick, and it was his first time riding a roller coaster without any problems.
So he rarely felt like this - the food was rolling in his throat, sharp as a knife, making it difficult to swallow; and even if he swallowed it and let it reach his stomach, they were like a group of twisting cold-blooded animals. The creature stirred up his stomach and throat, making him feel nauseous and depressed. He wanted to get everything out in one breath, and then the place would be clean.
And once this idea came up, he couldn't stop it - Harry almost used the greatest perseverance to chat with everyone after dinner, said goodbye politely, declined Regulus' invitation to stay, and returned to Godric Valley and Bathilda said, and finally hurried back to her home in Westchester to find Draco——
And as soon as his feet hit the floor, his suddenly relaxed nerves could no longer suppress the discomfort. He rushed directly to the bathroom, vomited until the sky was dark, and wished he could vomit it out of his stomach, wash it out and stuff it back again.
Looking at his posture, Draco thought someone had poured some kind of potion into him - he had tried to use the portkey to return to this mansion for the first time today, and his cross-country trip didn't make him vomit like Harry. .
"So you said everything you eat is normal." After Harry finished vomiting, Draco helped him sit on the bed, poured him a glass of water, and asked him a little nervously, "Then what's your problem? You also said - that The person whose name I cannot say——"
"That's it," Harry covered his forehead and felt like he was vomiting. He leaned to the side and leaned on a pillow that Draco had stuffed for him, and said softly, "When your enemy is sitting at the table Come on, and put what he brought on your plate...I'll eat it, I tried hard, Draco, but I don't think I can be so calm and wait for the food to be digested."
Draco couldn't imagine the atmosphere at that table when he heard him say that - but that wasn't the point now.
He reached out, pinched Harry's chin with two fingers, brought the poured glass of warm water to his mouth, and directly ordered: "Drink!"
Harry reached out to take the glass, but Draco glared at him and raised his hand to keep it out of his reach: "Don't—if you drop this glass of water on the ground, I'll have to pour another glass. "
"Okay." Harry said dryly, and put his mouth around the rim of the cup, letting the warm water flow down his tortured throat bit by bit, soothing his esophagus and stomach. He was already used to being fed water by Draco - in the winter of first year, Draco stayed by his bed most of the time. Although they didn't cooperate well at first and would spill the water, now they have mastered this rhythm. .
"You're vomiting so much, your dinner is in vain." Draco said, "Are you going back to Godric's Valley to make up for it?"
"I just went back and told Bathilda that I was staying at a friend's house today." Harry stood up from the bed, "I went to check out the kitchen..."
"You went back to Godric's Valley?! What do you think?" Draco's brows almost knitted, "Why did you go back first?"
"It's a long story," Harry said painfully, holding his stomach. "We'll talk about it later. I need to go to the kitchen first to see if there's anything... suitable to eat."
"——You, sit down." Draco immediately pressed him down and said in a tone that could not be refuted, "Merlin's socks are more self-aware than you - you sit here and drink water for me, and then go take a shower after you have rested." , don’t work your weak legs on things that are not your responsibility!”
Harry was shocked by his roar, confused for a second, and then blinked: "——Then, do you want to go to the kitchen instead? But you have never cooked before, Draco."
Draco's face twisted.
But what's so great about this? So he said loudly: "Yes, I'm going to the kitchen!"
After saying that, he poured Harry another glass of water and walked out of the room with his head held high. Harry was behind him. He couldn't understand it at first, but then he understood it, so he opened his eyes wide and opened his mouth. He couldn't believe that he was listening. To what.
"——Don't follow me!" Before he reached the stairs, Draco thought of something and turned back to warn, "Merlin knows I can handle it, so just stay in the room!"
…………
Charles woke up very late.
He would often drink alone at night, or look at all the remaining things in the room and recall what he had lost. Therefore, he usually does not get up at the normal time or have meals with everyone. Harry or Hank will always keep a portion warm for him and send it to his room. As for the remaining tableware, occasionally Hank will take them away, and occasionally he will put them away himself. Send it to the kitchen, but only rarely. He will definitely pick a time when no one is in the kitchen.
But obviously there will be surprises.
For example, now, at 3:30 in the afternoon, he came to the kitchen to put the tableware there, but found someone there.
The black-haired boy who followed the blond boy was standing in the kitchen - when Charles saw him, he was holding a table knife with his left hand and his right hand on half a piece of beef. The tip of the knife had not yet fallen.
The boy's eyes were very serious, but as stiff as a sculpture and motionless——
——To put it bluntly, his gesture of holding the knife to cut the ham was very skillful, but he was in a daze.
Charles glanced at the chopping board and felt that he had probably taken out everything in the refrigerator: the leftover ham, bread, and cheese slices from breakfast, some freshly thawed beef and pork cubes, and boxes of rice, flour, and cereal. , honey, mushrooms, corn, eggs, milk, whipped cream, chicken breast, strawberries, apples... These things were all scattered on the table, so messy that Charles couldn't figure out what kind of recipe it was.
The boy holding the knife looked very cautious. Charles could see that he had a straight face, a solemn expression, and a very nervous expression, as if he was thinking about how his cousin usually used these to make a meal. , and if you make one wrong step, it will cause very big consequences.
"Salad?" Charles heard him mutter to himself, "No, that's too cold... Oatmeal... Oatmeal needs... cereal and milk. Does it need to be heated? Or does it need hot water? Or hamburger meat... What was he photographing before, beef or pork..."
…
The kitchen of the Westchester mansion was not an unfamiliar place to Draco. He often sat there and watched Harry singing, dancing, watching videos and cooking - although he always questioned why Harry was singing in the kitchen. ——And from the perspective of the picture, the kitchen, the ingredients, and the afternoon sunshine, these three things are the kitchen that Draco knows.
But the problem is - how will this kitchen function without Harry? Note, it's not Sean's kind of 'operation' that can mess everything up.
This was why Draco didn't take the plunge.
…
Charles stood at the door of the restaurant and stared at him silently for about five minutes. When he realized that the boy really had no idea what to do, he finally spoke up.
"I think you need to figure out what you are doing first," the man who had just finished his hangover warned in a hoarse voice. "If you don't know anything at all and have no experience, find someone who knows."
When he said this, Draco, who was holding a table knife in the kitchen, almost shook his hand and dropped the knife on his feet. Fortunately, since he learned how to cook potions, this kind of mistake will never happen to him again. , after all, you know, he had a terrifying godfather who initiated him into potions.
He clenched his knife and shuddered. He turned around and saw Harry's father sitting in a wheelchair looking at him coldly. The look in his eyes couldn't be described as liking or disgusting, just... cold.
Yes, just indifferent, as if everything has nothing to do with him and the world has nothing to do with him.
And this person who exuded an aura that had nothing to do with the world was pushing a wheelchair towards him. Charles maneuvered the wheelchair skillfully around the bar and drove into the kitchen. He casually pulled out the knife in his hand, but the knife was tightly clenched in the boy's hand and could not move. This made Charles He raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"I have a very strict teacher." Draco explained dryly, and he put down the knife obediently. "He is a doctor. Ever since I started to learn how to do it when I was nine years old, he claimed that if I can’t even hold a knife, so I can’t even touch his medicinal materials.”
As for the kitchen - just kidding, of course he had no experience, he had a house elf and his mother, everyone knew Mrs. Malfoy had a good hand, and leaving the manor, Draco also had a house elf, takeaway or Harry, no one could make him Go into the kitchen and work.
...Except for this special situation.
"...He's right." After hearing Draco's answer, Charles was silent for a moment and then commented. Then he took a look at all the ingredients on the table and determined that the boy had emptied the refrigerator.
Then the man easily saw Draco's purpose.
"Are you going to make Francis a meal?" he said. "What's wrong with him?"
Draco resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow, pretending to be confused without saying he was right or wrong.
"I'm not peering into your head - you don't look like a person who can cook, and you don't look like a person who cooks for others." Charles said succinctly. "There can only be one person in this house who wants you to cook for him." Food, and he’s the one who knows how to cook.”
Draco was silent for a moment. As a sign of respect, he removed his confused and ignorant expression before coughing a few times, raising his chin and correcting his attitude. He bowed and said solemnly: "Mr.
"You don't need to explain to me." Charles rummaged through the ingredients on the table casually, then raised his head and looked at the boy calmly, "You just need to answer my questions."
Draco hesitated for a second or two and chose to tell the truth - this was Harry's father.
"Due to... some pressure, he vomited so hard that his eyes were filled with tears." Under the gaze of Charles's blue eyes, Draco curled his lips and swallowed, his eyes unconsciously wanting to wander, "He couldn't even stand still. Unsteady on his feet—he vomited almost everything he had eaten half an hour ago, and I had to give him something to eat so that he wouldn’t fall asleep and be so hungry that he chewed the sheets.”
"Everything spewed out?" Charles asked.
"Everything spewed out." Draco spread his hands like Harry did, "I don't want to describe that scene."
Charles nodded with a normal expression.
"Go and wash the rice." He spoke directly, and added, "Don't do unnecessary things. Except for the milk, rice, and the seasoning box, put everything else back."
"Only rice and milk?" Draco wondered what he could eat. "He's not full-"
"Do as I say," Charles finally showed a little impatience on his face. Even though this man was as sloppy as a homeless man, he still had the same vigor when he frowned, "Now, go wash the rice - or get out of here. "
Draco shut his mouth and quickly stuffed everything back into the refrigerator.
I have to say, this father and son look alike when they lose their temper. He was inwardly struck by the resemblance.
When Harry gets angry, he is so crisp and clear. He will not listen to a word of your defense, nor will he spend another word arguing with you. He will only give you two choices: shut up or get beaten.
Washing rice was something Draco had never done before, but it wasn't difficult. Pour out about one person's rice and wash it three times with clean water. Draco even remembered that Harry would pick up the rice and rub it repeatedly because he said, 'It feels great when it's rubbed'; and after washing the rice, pour away the excess water. , put in a bowl and set aside.
"Pour it into the pot," Charles was sitting in a wheelchair, instructing just behind him, in a tone that seemed arrogant to Draco, "Take out the pot, do you know which pot it is? ?”
Although he knew it was inappropriate, Draco turned his back and rolled his eyes.
"I know," he said as nicely as he could, taking out the pot Harry usually used to make soup. He took a look inside and made sure it was clean, but he still rinsed it with water before pouring the rice in, and then - of course, adding water.
"Too many," the ruthless instructor criticized, "Pour some out."
Draco: "...How many are they? Can you be more precise?"
"Cooking is not a chemistry experiment," Charles said calmly, as if he was asking him to get out of the way, rather than instructing a child to cook. "Some of them will not boil the water enough to come out of the pot. Pour it out, and then Light the fire, what we want to make is a bowl of porridge, not a bowl of soup."
Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes again, quickly thought about the amount of water he usually put in when brewing the potion, and poured out some water appropriately.
——Then he almost pulled out his wand and lit a fire under the pot out of inertia, just like he had done countless times when making potions.
You need to be sensible, Draco Malfoy. Draco put the wand back in his sleeve with a cold sweat on his face, and said to himself repeatedly: You have to be rational, you have to relax, you can't lose to an ordinary Muggle kitchen.
He took a few deep breaths and stared at the stove that usually burst into flames when Harry turned it. He boldly reached out, grabbed one of the knobs and twisted it to the left -
Merlin bless me once and for all. he thought nervously. Merlin bless me, Merlin bless me, Merlin...
Fortunately, it was just once. Fire immediately broke out on the stove, and Draco quickly put the pot on it.
Then next——
"Turn up the heat," the friend's parent (future tense) standing behind him said again, "you have to boil it once before you can cook the next one."
"I just - turn it away first." Draco said calmly, "I know that water needs to be boiled over high heat, and I also know what the boiling point of water is, Mr. Xavier." After that, in order to calm down the uneasiness in his heart, he He quickly opened the milk carton, set it aside for later use, and took out the bowl and spoon.
While waiting for the water to boil, Charles seemed too lazy to say anything extra to him. The two of them stood in the kitchen like two moving trees. If it didn't involve guidance, they had almost nothing to say - which made Draco mentally shouted 'Thanks Merlin' when he saw the water in the pot boiling.
What is going on in this era, and how did it turn an almost born saint into this? He couldn't help but complain in his heart. And if this is true, a large part of it is because of 'Uncle Erik'. How did he succeed in proposing?
"Turn the heat to medium," Charles said, "or even lower it, and cook for half an hour - when you see the rice has swollen and the water has dried out a little, pour the milk in, and then season with salt or sugar. It’s all up to you.”
After saying that, he pushed the wheelchair, turned around and left.
"Wait a minute!" Draco didn't expect him to turn around and leave, so he couldn't help shouting, "Are you just going to leave like that?"
"What else do I need to do?" Charles didn't turn his head, his voice remained calm, "I just need to make sure you don't bring out a bowl of messy things and give them to my child, the rest - the rest It has nothing to do with me.”
"..."
Draco's eyes rolled around in shock, and then he stared at the figure in the wheelchair and twitched the corners of his mouth.
Was I hallucinating, or did he actually say it? He roared to himself in his mind, but he firmly believed in his ears.
"Just now," Draco said in shock and hesitation, "did you say...'my child'?"
Damn it, damn it, damn it! What does this 'my child' mean? Did it mean 'all students are children of their teachers', or was it what he meant?
Charles turned around, and Draco found that this man still had an indifferent demeanor, as if he didn't say the words just now, and he didn't direct the cooking of this pot of porridge.
"You know what I mean," the smartest man in the house said quietly, as if it were a common statement.
Draco felt every muscle in his face twist.
"I don't understand." He tried to keep the shock and gritted teeth out of his voice, "Can you explain it a little more clearly...?"
"You know what I mean." Charles said, turning the wheelchair again, "There are some things you don't need to ask, just like I didn't ask, 'Did you lie, or is it that in your hometown, cousins can develop a relationship? Relationship' is the same issue."
Without looking back, he climbed the wheelchair up the dedicated ramp, leaving Draco standing alone in the kitchen, going crazy with shock and confused thinking.
…………
Harry sat on the bed hugging his knees, thinking about all the information he got today - the Black family, Sirius, Regulus, that, that person whose name cannot be mentioned yet...
Harry felt his stomach tighten again at the thought of that friendly-looking face. Countless times, he heard that 'that person' killed his parents, but this was not a real thing - because he never felt that he was an orphan, and he could not remember anything related to his biological parents. matter.
But this era is different. totally different. He is thirteen years old this year and can remember a lot of things. He can remember Lily's sweet smile at him, remember the smooth and circled font she wrote on the notebook, remember her like a flower. A face as beautiful as a sunflower; he could remember James' indescribable preference for him; remember his energetic figure on the Quidditch pitch, and remember his ability to make himself look good even when he didn't look good. The pile of sweets from his mother that he stuffed himself... James hated Slytherin, but he maintained an inexplicable care and love for himself.
They may not be his father and mother yet, but they are no longer the shadows in photos and other people's mouths, but two living and real people. In fact, Harry feels that even if they are not family yet, they are still Already friends.
- and 'that person' kills them in the future.
Harry hugged his legs a little tighter and buried his head in them. James and Lily's faces alternated in his head. He thought again of the night that Sirius described, what he had said to Lupin, and he didn't want to say this to Harry, but Harry's hearing was very sensitive, and even though he and Draco were reading and resting in the distance, he heard:
"--When I got there, James fell on the first floor. He must have tried his best to stop Voldemort at the door, but was killed by that man; while Lily fell in Harry's small room, leaning against the small bed, with both of them One hand was firmly grasping the bedrail, and I was blocking Harry with my body. It took all my strength to move her hand away and take Harry out of her protective circle... I was too angry, so I I chased him out directly, and I swore to Merlin that I would make the betrayer pay the price, at all costs..."
boom.
Harry put a hand to his chest. It was so sad that it seemed as if a beat had skipped a beat, which made him feel panicked.
It's like a miserable fire. If you don't clearly realize how beautiful things disappear in it, you can't truly realize what you've lost.
"Francis."
Just as he was sinking deeper and deeper into such thoughts, a gradually familiar name and a very familiar voice suddenly woke him up.
"!"
Harry turned his head and saw Charles sitting in a wheelchair, his blue eyes looking at him.
dad. Harry almost screamed. He couldn't help but want to get out of the bed and lean towards Charles, but Charles stretched out his hand and gestured for him to stay away, and then steered the wheelchair towards the bed.
"You look very bad," he said warmly, "You need to lie down in bed and have a good rest."
This kind of concern that was neither hot nor cold made Harry inevitably miss him. This Charles wasn't a father yet, but he would still care about Harry.
Daddy, daddy, daddy.
Harry called him three times in his mind but said nothing. He obediently followed Charles's advice, took off his outer coat, leaned against the head of the bed, and lay down halfway. Charles moved closer, reached out and stuffed Draco's pillow into the boy's back to cushion it. .
"I saw your cousins in the kitchen," Charles added.
Harry shuddered when he thought about the words Draco and kitchen being combined. He quickly got out of bed and said: "Are you saying that he is in trouble? I will go and see him right away -"
"It's none of your business." Charles pressed him, "I went to see him, he won't boil the porridge dry."
"Is it milk porridge?" Harry asked subconsciously. The answer jumped out like a rabbit, but by the time he realized it, he couldn't swallow it back.
When Charles heard this answer, he stopped and looked at him for about six seconds. It wasn't until Harry became restless and lowered his head, as if he had done something wrong, that he nodded.
"Milk porridge." He said, "I used to make milk porridge for my family because it is very simple to make and does not require other ingredients."
Do it for Aunt Raven and yourself. Harry thought silently. He had heard similar stories many times, such as how Charles made Raven a bowl of milk porridge when neither the servant nor the mother had time to take care of the child. It's hot, soft, sweet, and sometimes paired with a plate of easy-to-make ham sandwiches so they can both be full.
Charles stretched out his head again and touched Harry's forehead. The latter had no fever at first, but his face turned red because of this action.
"I don't--I don't have a fever," he stuttered. "I'm fine, Charles. I don't know if my cousin told me, but I just--vomited a little, and felt a little uncomfortable. He also gave me hot water to drink. , you don’t have to, you don’t have to..."
This is a complete lie. Harry thought a little sheepishly. He actually wanted his father to touch his forehead like this.
Dad, dad...Dad. He recited it over and over in his mind, his eyes glued to the man beside the bed.
As for Charles, he seemed to always be aware of other people's thoughts - he didn't put his hand down from Harry's forehead, but moved it to the top of his head. He got off the ground and gently stroked Harry's head. He didn't say anything, but the gentle movements were like comfort and caress.
Called Harry, it felt great - it was a long-lost warm feeling that gradually calmed his heart.
If your dad can rub your head when you're feeling down, it'll feel like everything can be discussed later. Harry thought.
"Lie down and get some sleep." Charles said softly, as if he would scare the child if he spoke softly. "It will make you feel better - your cousin will wake you up when he comes back. "
What could Harry say? Harry simply obeyed his father.
He lay down completely and huddled under a thin summer quilt. Charles maneuvered the wheelchair to the window and pulled half of the bed curtains for him. Then he returned to the bed and took the clothes on the bed aside for the boy. Go, out of the way.
"Thank you." Harry retracted himself into the quilt, leaving only his eyes exposed so that Charles could not see the smile he couldn't help but smile. "Thank you for your concern."
"I will always care about you." Charles patted the quilt on his body and said softly, "Go to sleep. Forget those worries for the time being and go to sleep."
He put his hand on Harry's forehead and stroked it gently——
——But suddenly, he moved his fingers to the boy's temple and activated his telepathic ability. He sent a gentle hypnotic signal towards the boy's head. At the same time, he did not peek into it or forcefully hypnotize him. His thinking signal was like a gust of wind, blowing into the other person's spiritual realm, softly shaking the possible tension inside. Tight nerves.
Harry was completely unprepared for this move, and was almost instantly defeated by the hypnotic sleepiness. He closed his eyes sleepily. A potential sense of crisis told him not to sleep, while another potential sense of security told him to leave it alone and go to sleep.
Dad is right next to me. Said that sense of security. I can sleep.
He fell into a deep sleep.
…………
In the dim room, Charles looked quietly at the sleeping boy under his palm.
Changes in appearance require a process to return to the original state. Various abilities determine how this process operates. Charles has done research and has seen changes in others. But this child, Francis, was so familiar with this change in his body, and he also knew very well that in addition to being overcome by extreme pain and weakness, the appearance changes caused by abilities would also be caused by consciousness. The sleep gradually fades away, which is as natural for the body as closing the eyes naturally when sleeping.
The blue scales open and close like breathing gills and pores, changing from beginning to end in sequence. First came the golden curly hair, then the mixed-race face that was as beautiful as a sculptor's handsome man, and then that long and wide figure...
In just a few seconds, the child had already taken on a different look.
If it were Hank or Sean here, he would have screamed - but Charles was not surprised by what he saw, and he didn't intend to wake the child to question him. He just looked at the child very, very quietly, gently playing with his curly black hair, and stroking his pale cheeks and the back of his neck that was exposed because he slept on his side. In addition, he even breathed softly and devoted all his attention to the child.
He knew that his 'cousin' would be back in half an hour, and he had to leave quickly, pretending that nothing happened, but for the first time in several years, he felt reluctant to leave - he didn't even want to blink. When looking at the kid, he had to admit that Hank was right, he liked this kid.
He really wanted this child to stay, just stay with him.
No. You can only watch for one more minute, just one minute. he said sternly to himself, and looked long and hard at the sleeping child on the bed.
He wanted to engrav this child's appearance deeply in his memory.
※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※
Rehabilitation is difficult. I write every day. I don’t write much otz every day. Food words and puppet shows capture my soul. I miss Xiao Wang and Yuzi every day...
Let's set the frequency. Except for those who ask for leave in advance, we will update every two days until the fifteenth day of the first lunar month. If it's more, I'll make a profit. If it's less, I'll make up the word count or red envelope?
In addition, applause and encouragement, student Xiao Ha lost half of his vest!
Thank you to the little angels who voted for me or irrigated the nutrient solution between 2020-01-04 03:02:33~2020-01-12 22:49:51~
Thanks to the little angel who threw the mines: ah ah ah old~, Zhang Li 1;
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