InsaneJournal

Who: Astoria and Scorpius
When: Friday night
Where: 3 Quills
What: A mother cooking for her son, of course.
Status/Rating: Incomplete, low

As Astoria set the licked clean spoon down on a spare plate, it occurred to her that Blaise would see right through her when she told him that his recipe had turned out awful. She didn't care. It was the thought that counted — everything else was just happenstance.

Sighing, she rearranged the dishes on the countertop, making sure that everything was neat and organized. Dishes and silverware to one side, the meal to the other. Astoria figured that they could serve themselves and eat in the living room. It wasn't proper, perhaps, but she wanted to keep the evening as informal as possible. Less expectation that way, less stress. The added bonus was getting to break one of her mother's more ridiculous rules. Astoria wasn't sure why eating on a sofa made her a heathen (surely, heathens didn't have sofas to begin with), but disobeying wasn't worth the argument. She didn't have to worry about that now though, did she.

Stealing another bite of the tomato confit, Astoria hummed her approval. It was downright sinful, and she thought that the chicken and pasta would complement it nicely. Then, after appraising the setup one last time, she headed for the front hallway. If she was smoothing out her blouse for the hundredth time, that was only because she had to set an example. And her peeking out the front window to see if Scorpius was coming down the street? She needed to know how high to set the warming charm!