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I miss writing. I miss feeling inspired to write, and I think I stop trying to inspire myself when I couldn't write, so now I think I can write, but I don't know what to write. *sigh* Also, I feel like I'm not in any popular fandoms, so I don't know. Does that make sense
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The kitchen was a disaster. A stack of bowls were towering on the counter, something white or powdery - flour or sugar, probably - dusted every available surface, and there was something sticky on the floor. Harry pulled out his wand as he entered, cleaning spell at the ready, even though it was definitely Ron's week to clean the kitchen and Ron's mess.
"Stop!" Ron called, holding up a hand and not looking at Harry. He was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor, staring at the oven. "I think I finally got the recipe right. Magic might mess it up!"
Harry rolled his eyes and tucked his wand back into his robe. He blamed Hermione. Ever since she had taken Ron to that tea shop, he had been determined to learn how to make the tiny cakes they had served. That would never end well; Harry remembered how bad Ron was at potions. Following directions and measuring out ingredients was never a strong point. At least with cooking he couldn't--
BOOM!
Or maybe he could. Ron frowned as he cautiously opened the oven door, what had once been an attempt at a cake now splattered all over the inside of the oven from the explosion.
Harry left the mess - and a pouting Ron - behind, deciding eating out would be a wise decision.
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