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The house was full with a delicious smell when Draco returned home that night. The stereo was pumping an addictive ballad that surely came from one of the CDs that James Potter had left to his son before passing away.

Draco took off his work robes and quickly proceeded towards the kitchen, mood already lightened just from the music and the smell of spices.

He found Harry at the stoves, a yellow apron on his front and a wooden spoon in his hand, moving his hips at rhythm with the music while putting ingredients in a pan from which big bubbles popped loudly.

It was a vision Draco hoped to come home to everyday.

“Hello?” he tried to get Harry’s attention, waving from the corner in which he’d stopped at to enjoy the view.

Harry’s head raised almost instantly, and a big smile appeared on his sweating face. “Just in time for the curry,” he exclaimed, moving to take a plate and filling it with hot, dense orange liquid. “How do you always do that is a mystery.”

Draco chuckled. “I guess my instincts always tell me when you’re about to go full Indian.”

Harry waved him off from his place at the stoves, and then pointed at the table for Draco to sit.

“It’s just,” Harry explained while approaching with the full plate, “I’ve had an itch to cook this recipe for days. It’s the summer version of my grandfather’s curry, but I didn’t even know it existed until I found the piece of paper inside one my mum’s old books.”

Draco listened to him as he spoke with genuine interest about his family traditions: if there was one thing that Harry would never take for granted, it was what his parents had left him before dying – the possibility to have a decent life in the Wizarding World along with the discovery of his Indian roots. Harry was fully grateful to them for this.

“C’mon,” Harry prompted him, “taste it, let’s hear what Draco Malfoy’s royal palate has to say.”

Draco simply rolled his eyes, “Promise you'll be better than any I've had before,” he spoke to the plate, before taking a full spoon of the curry and putting it into his mouth, not caring about burning his mouth in the process. It was exquisite .

He pointed his thumb up in an excited sign of appreciation.

“Yes!” Harry shouted. “I knew it!”

Draco smiled while sipping an entire glass of water in order to give his tongue a bit of relief. “This time, you really exceeded yourself,” he commented, looking at Harry’s figure dancing in circles on the kitchen floor.

Harry stopped, winked at him and “Only the best for you,” revealed in a smirk.

Draco threw a napkin in his direction.