Power Outage [oneshot]
Title: Power Outage
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing/Characters: Teddy Lupin, Harry...Severus/Harry, but it's only alluded to in this one
Rating: G
Word Count: 893
Summary: Teddy is upset when the power goes out and he can't help Harry cook anymore.
A/N: This is the first part of what is going to be a--at least-- three part series. Can be read on its own. Written for the prompt 'Power Outage' over @ adventchallengefor Day 7/25.
The microwave conked out halfway through defrosting the chicken. Harry knew this because Teddy had been in the process of shouting the two minute countdown along with the appliance when he'd abruptly stopped at T-minus one minute, seven seconds.
Harry looked up from his boiling pot of pasta and barked a laugh at the horrified expression on the boy's face. No one had ever interrupted his counting before; Severus thought it was good for him, and Harry had to admit it was pretty impressive for a four-year-old.
"Unca Harwee! The micwawabe is brokden!"
Frowning, Harry went over to investigate. Sometimes the muggle appliances hiccupped when magic was performed while they were operating. It was annoying sometimes, but there was nothing he could do about it. Only problem was no one had done any magic, not even Teddy by accident. Perhaps the thing had finally had enough and died once and for all?
"Think maybe you're right, Teddy," Harry said, scratching the back of his head.
"Wha'about the chicky?"
He shrugged. "I'll just have to use magic. Sorry, kiddo." He ruffled the boy's hair affectionately, hoping he wouldn't be too disappointed. Teddy loved helping him cook, but since he couldn't do any magic, anything that could be done the muggle way-safely-was designated to him. It was the only reason they kept the stuff.
They'd gotten it all in the first place because he'd planned on selling the manor to a nice muggle family in Sirius’s honor. So he'd fixed it up with all the usual muggle amenities; electricity, new plumbing, kitchen appliances, and about a thousand other things that weren't necessary, but Weasley had been having too much fun helping him deck the place out and Harry hadn't wanted to spoil his fun. It was the happiest he'd seen him since Fred had died.
But it'd turned out to be impossible for a muggle family to live in the manor. There was just too much dark magic soaked into the place. Even professionals hadn't been able to get it all out.
So, without any other reason to leave, Harry had stayed. And when Teddy had come to live with him when Andromeda got sick, he'd kept the muggle things mostly for his godson. Though some of them he kept for himself. Like the central heat. Sure, it was simple enough to cast a warming charm or light a fire, but it was nice not having to think about it. The system would keep the place the right temperature without Harry having to be there or do anything.
And the electricity. Merlin bless the electricity. He was sick to death of candles. Why the wizarding world was so opposed to a light source that didn't bloody flicker constantly was beyond his understanding.
"Can I stir the pasta?" Teddy asked, still frowning at the treacherous microwave.
"Of course, love," Harry said, conjuring a step stool in front of the stove for the boy to stand on.
Completely forgetting the chicken, Teddy ran to the stool, delighted, to do the stirring. Once on the stool, he brandished the wooden spoon Harry had been using earlier, but stopped short, frowning at the pasta.
"It done already?"
Confused, Harry looked at the pot. Previously boiling, it was now still steaming, but very much not boiling any longer. He hummed in annoyance. If it wasn’t because of magical interference, Harry could only think of one reason why both the stove and microwave weren't working.
He stepped into the hall to try the lights. They hadn't been on since the sun through the windows earlier had been sufficient. They didn't work.
"Well, bugger..."
"What is it, Unca Harwee?"
He gave his godson an apologetic look. "Power's out."
He seemed to consider that intensely. “You fix it?” he finally asked.
“Don’t think so. Probably out because of the weather.” It’d been snowing fairly heavily since the night before. “It’ll likely turn back on, on its own.” Or at least he hoped so. Otherwise he’d have to call a muggle repairman to fix it, and the manor never reacted kindly to the presence of muggles. Last time he’d had them by to install new light fixtures in all the rooms, the walls kept randomly lighting themselves on fire. He’d lost count of how many times he’d been forced to obliviate the poor men.
“How we gonna make dinnew then?” The sad look on the boy’s face told him he knew exactly how they-or rather he-was going to make dinner.
“Magic,” he said simply.
Teddy looked crushed. He was very good at looking crushed. Or forlorn. Or abused. Or mistreated. Or disheartened. Or really anything that alluded to being let down in any way. He was a veritable master at being let down, and had this special look-The Look-that he got that Harry had never been able to look at full on without his heart breaking a little. Severus said he was just soft, but when Teddy’s brow knitted together, and his eyes shone with tears, and his bottom lip stuttered out, quivering…He broke every time.
“Tell you what, when the chicken’s finished, I’ll let you butter the bread for the garlic bread. And while you’re waiting, why don’t you draw a picture for Severus? He loves your pictures.”
Teddy beamed and skipped off to fetch his crayons.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing/Characters: Teddy Lupin, Harry...Severus/Harry, but it's only alluded to in this one
Rating: G
Word Count: 893
Summary: Teddy is upset when the power goes out and he can't help Harry cook anymore.
A/N: This is the first part of what is going to be a--at least-- three part series. Can be read on its own. Written for the prompt 'Power Outage' over @ adventchallengefor Day 7/25.
The microwave conked out halfway through defrosting the chicken. Harry knew this because Teddy had been in the process of shouting the two minute countdown along with the appliance when he'd abruptly stopped at T-minus one minute, seven seconds.
Harry looked up from his boiling pot of pasta and barked a laugh at the horrified expression on the boy's face. No one had ever interrupted his counting before; Severus thought it was good for him, and Harry had to admit it was pretty impressive for a four-year-old.
"Unca Harwee! The micwawabe is brokden!"
Frowning, Harry went over to investigate. Sometimes the muggle appliances hiccupped when magic was performed while they were operating. It was annoying sometimes, but there was nothing he could do about it. Only problem was no one had done any magic, not even Teddy by accident. Perhaps the thing had finally had enough and died once and for all?
"Think maybe you're right, Teddy," Harry said, scratching the back of his head.
"Wha'about the chicky?"
He shrugged. "I'll just have to use magic. Sorry, kiddo." He ruffled the boy's hair affectionately, hoping he wouldn't be too disappointed. Teddy loved helping him cook, but since he couldn't do any magic, anything that could be done the muggle way-safely-was designated to him. It was the only reason they kept the stuff.
They'd gotten it all in the first place because he'd planned on selling the manor to a nice muggle family in Sirius’s honor. So he'd fixed it up with all the usual muggle amenities; electricity, new plumbing, kitchen appliances, and about a thousand other things that weren't necessary, but Weasley had been having too much fun helping him deck the place out and Harry hadn't wanted to spoil his fun. It was the happiest he'd seen him since Fred had died.
But it'd turned out to be impossible for a muggle family to live in the manor. There was just too much dark magic soaked into the place. Even professionals hadn't been able to get it all out.
So, without any other reason to leave, Harry had stayed. And when Teddy had come to live with him when Andromeda got sick, he'd kept the muggle things mostly for his godson. Though some of them he kept for himself. Like the central heat. Sure, it was simple enough to cast a warming charm or light a fire, but it was nice not having to think about it. The system would keep the place the right temperature without Harry having to be there or do anything.
And the electricity. Merlin bless the electricity. He was sick to death of candles. Why the wizarding world was so opposed to a light source that didn't bloody flicker constantly was beyond his understanding.
"Can I stir the pasta?" Teddy asked, still frowning at the treacherous microwave.
"Of course, love," Harry said, conjuring a step stool in front of the stove for the boy to stand on.
Completely forgetting the chicken, Teddy ran to the stool, delighted, to do the stirring. Once on the stool, he brandished the wooden spoon Harry had been using earlier, but stopped short, frowning at the pasta.
"It done already?"
Confused, Harry looked at the pot. Previously boiling, it was now still steaming, but very much not boiling any longer. He hummed in annoyance. If it wasn’t because of magical interference, Harry could only think of one reason why both the stove and microwave weren't working.
He stepped into the hall to try the lights. They hadn't been on since the sun through the windows earlier had been sufficient. They didn't work.
"Well, bugger..."
"What is it, Unca Harwee?"
He gave his godson an apologetic look. "Power's out."
He seemed to consider that intensely. “You fix it?” he finally asked.
“Don’t think so. Probably out because of the weather.” It’d been snowing fairly heavily since the night before. “It’ll likely turn back on, on its own.” Or at least he hoped so. Otherwise he’d have to call a muggle repairman to fix it, and the manor never reacted kindly to the presence of muggles. Last time he’d had them by to install new light fixtures in all the rooms, the walls kept randomly lighting themselves on fire. He’d lost count of how many times he’d been forced to obliviate the poor men.
“How we gonna make dinnew then?” The sad look on the boy’s face told him he knew exactly how they-or rather he-was going to make dinner.
“Magic,” he said simply.
Teddy looked crushed. He was very good at looking crushed. Or forlorn. Or abused. Or mistreated. Or disheartened. Or really anything that alluded to being let down in any way. He was a veritable master at being let down, and had this special look-The Look-that he got that Harry had never been able to look at full on without his heart breaking a little. Severus said he was just soft, but when Teddy’s brow knitted together, and his eyes shone with tears, and his bottom lip stuttered out, quivering…He broke every time.
“Tell you what, when the chicken’s finished, I’ll let you butter the bread for the garlic bread. And while you’re waiting, why don’t you draw a picture for Severus? He loves your pictures.”
Teddy beamed and skipped off to fetch his crayons.