fic: sometimes soup is just soup, or the night the hippograff came to dinner

[visionshadows]

My dear, dear dayse wrote me fic while I was at work. Fic where Snape kisses Harry in the snow and he has snow on his mittens and Harry's cheeks are red. That fic is here. I, being as much in her control as she is in mine, wrote her fic to her specifications. Sirius takes care of sick Harry and feeds him soup. Naturally, I did not write this the way I was supposed to, but she still liked it.

So without further ado...



sometimes soup is just soup, or the night the hippograff came to dinner


Sirius whistled happily as he carried the tray down the hall to Harry’s room. He had long ago been forbidden by both Harry and Moony to actually sing when one of them was under the weather, so he’d taken to whistling just as off-tune and arrhythmically as he could.

Moony, in his infinite wisdom, had taken a very long walk. He had muttered something about needing Tastykakes from the Americas or something like that. Sirius had no clue what he meant, but he decided it was just a Moony thing like putting marmalade on pickles.

Harry was coughing as quietly as he could, hoping not to attract any attention from Sirius. He heard the whistling and groaned to himself, hiding his head under the pillow.

"Oh, Harry," Sirius said happily, pushing the door open with his hip. "I brought you soup."

"I’m sleeping."

Sirius chuckled and set the tray down on the bedside table. He sat down on the edge of Harry’s bed and patted the lump under the blankets.

"That is my arse, Sirius." Harry’s voice was muffled by the pillows.

Sirius moved his hand up higher and patted what he thought to be Harry’s shoulder, "Come now. I made you soup."

Harry poked his head out from under the pillow, "Soup does not solve everything."

"Soup makes everything better," Sirius tugged on Harry’s shoulder. "You know you want the soup."

"If I eat the soup will you leave me alone?"

Sirius beamed, "Of course not."

Harry groaned and sat up, crossing his arms over his chest, "I’m twenty years old, Sirius. I don’t need you to feed me soup when I’ve got a cold."

Sirius tucked a towel under Harry’s collar and picked up the bowl of soup, "Open wide for the flying hippograff."

Harry squeezed his lips shut. This, as usual, did not dissuade Sirius and he just made little squeaky noises that Harry supposed were similar to the noises Buckbeak made when he was hungry, but really sounded more like a dying camel.

Sirius poked the spoon against Harry’s lips, spilling some of the soup. He just chuckled and dipped the spoon in the bowl again, "See, that’s why we wear the towel."

"No offense, Sirius," Harry said calmly. "But you need a hob … Hey!"

Sirius managed to get a spoonful in Harry’s mouth while he was talking. He looked inordinately pleased with himself as he went back for more.

"I really, really hate you," Harry said dully.

Sirius just laughed brightly and lifted the spoon, "Oh, you and Moony say the silliest things when you’re sick. Open wide for the Knight Bus!"

Comments

[hidez.livejournal.com]

*chuckles* that's just really cute.

[visionshadows.livejournal.com]

hee! thanks. :)