tampered | Log; Ongoing

Log; Ongoing

When; RIGHT NOW hi → August 27, 2008
Rating; Can't be more than PG
Characters; Regulus (

facesdeath) & ~~Cheerleader~~ Claire (

adamantined)
Summary; Cupcakes! No, really.
Log;

If anything, cupcake-making is a good way to avoid working. Number one, it is, in itself, like working. There's work involved. One must work in order to accomplish one's goal. Even if that goal happens to be something that Claire really needs to stop making before she begins to get some sort of reputation. But it's not her fault. Number two, it's a good way to avoid doing anything substantial - at least in Regulus's case, since she's never going to let him touch the oven - other than sitting around and licking the bowl. He needs to eat more anyway. Depending on who you talk to, that might be substantial, but Claire isn't saying anything.

In fact, all she's doing is hanging out in the living room until Regulus knocks on the door. And then she's going to answer it. And then she's going to say hello. She goes over this in her head like some sort of idiotic preschooler learning the alphabet, trying to catch Mr Muggles so she can shut him in a bedroom but all the while making sure to listen for a knock or two.

She's happy Peter's working and Zach is somewhere or other so no one has to see her acting like a spaz.

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Regulus had taken the bait easily enough, and it hadn't taken him long to get ready, either.

He's getting more used to wearing Muggle clothes by now, to the point where he genuinely wears jeans - and is doing so right now. Other than that he's still rather awkward, but Claire never makes mention of it out loud so he refuses to mind it like he normally would.

He's rubbish in the kitchen but he's sure she'll let him stir and clean up at least.

He Apparates and this time manages to remain outside the door - practice makes perfect, after all. He knocks easily enough, even though he still feels a little out of place in the whole 'dressing Muggle' thing.

He'll deal with it.

When she opens the door, she's impressed, really. Not at the Apparation or anything like that - not that she actually knows anything about that - but apparently we've moved on to jeans, and that's saying something. "You discovered denim," she says, letting him in.

Mr. Muggles finally comes out from underneath the couch where he's been hiding for the past half an hour, sniffing around and saying hello. To him, Claire says, "Traitor," and turns up nose up and away from him, but as Claire is often the first person to laugh at anything, she's not able to keep that expression for long before she's letting Regulus in and closing the door behind them. "I think it looks nice."

Back on jeans again.

"I have. Well, bought some. I knew what it was before..."

He notes Mr. Muggles and grins, scooping up the traitor and grinning over at Claire. Yes, grinning. Shh. He's in a good mood.

The comment on his clothes throws him for a loop for a moment though and he just looks sheepish. "Thanks." He'll have to wear jeans more oft--

Anyway. "So, cupcakes. Am I going to be delegated the jobs that are impossible to mess up?"

"For someone who never wears jeans, I would've expected a lot worse." She's wandering off into the kitchen, not remarking on that Mr. Muggles - Regulus alliance. She's so betrayed, really. "I had to show Caspian what jeans were, and I still don't think he get it. You're a little more used to the idea, though. I think. Well, used to it enough."

Shh, she's not babbling at all, getting pans and spoons and eggs and things out.

"I don't know. Do you think you can manage to not mess up handing me things and/or licking the bowl?"

"Well, it's not as though I never saw Muggles in my entire life." He sets Mr. Muggles down after a moment and pats him on the head before following after her, pausing to lean in the door frame.

He doesn't mind it.

"I'm fairly sure I can. I'm rubbish at potions, but I'm ace at handing things and testing things out."

Yes, he works in a potions shop.

Yes, it's a good thing he doesn't touch them before they're finished.

"I know, that's what I meant," Claire says, pulling a tray out of the cupboard. "Caspian's from like... a million years ago. I can give him the benefit of the doubt."

Bowl, mixing spoon, a little note card with directions that she keeps in her pocket, but she tries to hide that as much as possible. It's only there for back-up after all. "You can be my official taste-tester then. Someone else was supposed to but they haven't gotten back to me."

While pouring flouring into measuring cups and cracking eggs and all that, she decides she's going to ask about that very topic. "So... if you're awful at potions then why did Severus hire you? Outside of the fact that he obviously likes you. Or is that just it?"

"You couldn't give me the benefit of the doubt?" Teasing, perhaps.

He does move over to help though and do as he's told, so on and so forth. "I don't think I'd mind tasting cupcakes."

Ah, the potions topic. "Well, I'm rubbish at making them. I'm fine with the theory and with handling the separate ingredients and finished potions alike. I just can't make them for the life of me."

A pause. "Being his friend helps, too."

"No!" She makes a face. Teasing, too, maybe.

Claire makes a face and then hands him the little note card she's been keeping in her pocket. When she came here, the first time she had to make cupcakes, she wrote everything down that she could remember, imagined standing in the middle of her kitchen in Odessa with her mother harping at her about what to add where and how much and when. "Here," she says, brushing her hands off, very business-like. "Try it."

"And being his friend is cheating." Laughing.

He stares at her for a very long moment before shrugging hesitantly and moving to ... follow directions. He's all right at that, it's just... Something always goes wrong.

Always.

"At least I don't think cupcakes can kill us."

He grins a little, though. "It is not. It's just convenient."

Claire drags a stool over to sit nearby, watching to make sure he doesn't accidentally add arsenic or something. She also flips the oven on as an afterthought. Once she's settled, she crosses her arms and watches. "You never know," she eventually says, though it comes a bit late. "Around here just about anything can kill you."

She's helpful, honest.

He glares at her for the last comment, waving her off with a hand before finishing up the batter. It doesn't look too bad, considering - so he just eyes it with something akin to disdain for a moment before looking over to her. "They go in the muffin tin, yeah?"

That glare earns him a smack on the arm, even though it's not at all hard or mean spirited. His batter looks a little lumpy but she's not going to say anything, and she chews on her lip to make sure that she doesn't start laughing because this whole situation is just completely ridiculous.

"I don't know, do they?" Okay, so maybe she is laughing. "Yeah, here, I'll do that. You might burn yourself."

He's far too deadpan and dead for this. "You know, for someone that complains I go home to abuse, getting smacked upside the head..."

Paaauuuseee. She's earned herself another glare, and he's far enough away so that she can't smack him.

"No, no. I'll do it." He scowls - but with a flick of his wand and a mutter the batter is safely in the tin like it should be.

He may be a cheater, but it's stylish cheating.

"I am not even hitting you that hard!" From across the room, since he's far enough away to get a glare in without retaliation, though if it really does bother him, she'll stop it immediately.

But he's not about to get away with that. She throws one of the oven mitts at him but it kind of falls short of the mark and flops uselessly on the ground. "You are such a cheater."

He grins a little, moving to pick up the oven mitt and throw it back at her - no magic, this time. "It's just how we do things, Claire." His own just lands at her feet (he probably could have made it land on her head or something, but he did that already), and he sets about getting the cupcakes into the oven before leaning against the counter.

Smug.

"It's hardly cheating."

She watches the mitt sail and fall and doesn't move to pick it up. If anything, Mr. Muggles will pick it up later and carry it away, which Claire will have a fun time wrestling off of him later. "Well, in Odessa we do things the hard way. We don't get to use shortcuts," she says, making a face.

Then again, she doesn't exactly need the oven mitts, if she's going to get technical, but Claire's not about to grab anything in front of anyone.

"So it's cheating."

"We don't have electricity." Deadpan.

He smiles a little though, after a moment. "It's not. That's a saying."

He'd stick out his tongue, but he's still a little bit too mature for that.

"So everything is heated by fire?" Pause. Duh. "Or magic?"

"I know that's a saying," she says, wandering back over to the counter to eat batter out of the bowl. It doesn't take like cookie dough or anything like that, but it's chocolate, so it's good by default. "But it's still cheating. Think of how much money you save on gas."

"Er, both, yes."

He blinks at the the batter before tasting it, one eyebrow arching slightly. "I think I prefer it a bit more baked." Though it is good. He nudges her a little with his arm, making a face. "I'd ask how much people spend on average for gas, but I've a mind for math, just not conversions to Muggle money."

Claire nods, understanding in whatever way she can. "That's cool." She's picturing big, old houses lit by blue and green fire. She has absolutely no idea whether or not that's how their world operates, but she'll stick with it regardless.

She looks over after being nudged, sees his face, and then makes one of her own, especially at the topic of math. Like her mother - biological, not her real one - Claire is completely lousy at math. "I wouldn't even know how much people save on gas. You'd have to ask my dad that, just like you'd have to ask him to do the math because I'm terrible at it." There's a calculator on her phone that proves it.

For a moment, she's thoughtful, not eating the batter but shoving it around in the bowl with her finger. "Can I ask you something?"

Well, it's, um. Close enough. It works, either way.

"It's okay, we'll go with not knowing either way." He's grinning a little. He seems to only do this when Claire's around, but since she's always around to see that, his secret is safe, mostly.

He blinks but nods, not quite cautious but not as easygoing as a moment ago, either. He's not worried, just... well, it's an instant reaction. "Sure."

She still files grins away as points in her favor, although she has no idea why she does this. Sirius called her out, though, so it's not like she doesn't actively know why, Claire just chooses to avoid it.

"If this is weird or way too personal or offensive, you can totally dump what's left in the bowl all over me but, what were you planning on doing? After you got out of school and stuff, I mean."

"I..." He frowns a moment, thinking.

"Well, for one I'm not about to dump the bowl all over you." He looks amused at that part, at least.

"But... To tell the truth, I don't know. I never really thought about it. I mean, to begin with I was going to stay on the one side of the war, which would have kept me in my family and the money therein, so I hadn't needed to think about it."

"Once I changed sides, I..." His smiles's a little sad, but it's a smile nonetheless. "I knew I was going to die."

Claire lets out a little awkward laugh of relief at the bowl comment. It's not so much aimed at his not dumping anything on her as it is relief that he's willing to at least joke about something, even more so that he's willing to talk about it. She doesn't know how dead people feel about these things.

She picks at a spot on her jeans where some of the batter got rubbed in after he's finished speaking, trying to figure out where to go from that. Good at replying to something like that? Not so much. "I hope they gave you a medal," she says, and it's only half-joking. She respects people who sacrifice themselves more than anyone would ever know, after what her father did for her. "But you never thought about it at all? Not even like... Quidditch?"

He laughs a little, at the medal comment. "No one knew what I did, but I suppose if they did I'd have gotten a pat on the back?"

It's getting easier to talk about - before his death, and after it. Because here, death isn't the end for him.

That makes it sting less.

"I'd have loved to play Quidditch professionally, yeah." He's a bit more animated now, to boot. "It's the best, and it really would make the best job."

Have a slightly sheepish Regulus scratching the back of his neck, Claire.

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Log; Ongoing

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