"Hmm, what do you think?"

"Dobby thinks it need more sugar Harry Potter sir."

"Winky, could you hand me that sack? No, the other one. That's salt." Harry said as he watched the miniscule elf heave the heavy satchel of the root of all sugar induced highs he'd been deprived of as he grew up.

Winky, still being unused to Harry's unusual behavior towards elves demanded she at least fetch the ingredients for the 'young master'.

Stirring in the natural high, he checked the recipe book next to the big bowl. Dobby set about preparing the pan by buttering it with shortening.

Winky was already using her magic to clean the other bowls they had used. Dipping his pinky finger in to taste it once more, he was satisfied at the rich chocolate taste that assaulted his senses.

"Ready with that pan Dobby?" He asked over his shoulder. His answer was the placing of said pan next to the bowl, shortening layered just right, if not overly.

Harry put a mental note to not tip the pan while taking it out of the oven lest the cake slip out of the Flexon-like pan.

Pouring the thick brown batter into the tin, he once again checked that no one was coming near the kitchens; it wouldn't do to be caught on the first day back to Hogwarts for his sixth year.

He absently mused how he would ever explain to a teacher (or Filch) why he was in here past curfew (way way past) baking a cake.

He himself barely knew. It was more of an impulse really. Repressing a shudder as he put the cake in the monstrous oven he feverishly hoped that Voldemort wasn't the cause of the impulse.

Having a disturbingly funny vision of Voldemort in pink robes sitting in a very small chair, with a cone hat on his head that read 'Birthday Boy' and festive hanging from his surroundings while he blew his candles and wished for world domination.

And his twisted face quirking into a disturbing mask of genuine, unadulterated psychopathic glee at receiving one of Mrs. Weasly's yearly sent socks, complete with green threads and little dancing snakes--

He shuddered for no reason except pure terror. God, he was going to need therapy after this.

When he reassured both house elves that no, he wasn't cold and that yes, he would help put away the dishes. His mirth died down when he realized his true reasons. Or more the cause of all his problems.

Dursley's.

They had been more insufferable this summer than any other. Especially when the fear of Sirius Black coming to get vengeance on them was quelled after a news report of the convict known as Sirius Black had recently passed away.

The shock of seeing his Godfather's face once more (on T.V of course) left Harry speechless, or more so than was usual for him after the ministry incindent. This had confirmed the Dursley's suspicions and let loose the storm of insults, belittling and all-around torture fest for all of his summer.

Except until Dumbledore's meeting and sudden departure to the thankfully cozier Burrow. Harry just needed to make something of his own, to make something good...worthy.

To reassure him that he alone can make something. Even a simple cake could bring joy, right? It would make Voldemort just another task, like this cake.

If he had confidence in his cooking abilities (not to mention the fact that Aunt Petunia had had him making and cooking breakfast, dinner and everything by the age of six) and the cake came out fine, then he would have some confidence as he faced the Dark Lord, having trust in his abilities as a wizard (the fact that he already beat him at infancy, and narrowly escaped death by said psycho way too many times to be healthy helped a bit).

And he also needed the sugar as he once again walked the corridors that his Godfather and parents walked before him. All who were dead.

Stopping him from drowning in the river of despair was Dobby's shake as the house elf informed him that the cake was done.

Standing up from his chair that Winky had brought to him as they waited, he crossed the space to the kitchen ovens to reap the fruits of his efforts.

--------------

Severus Snape paced his dungeons as the complications arose in his plans. Making the unbreakable vow between himself and Narcissa was a risky move, leading to his preferences in the war subject to being exposed.

'But' he thought bitterly, ' that over paranoid bastard was always paranoid about every single thing. Although the fact that every single witch or wizard was looking forward to his death did help to that, I suppose.'

He was sure that Voldemort would make sure things weren't easy for Draco, just to look for an excuse to kill the boy as a result of Lucius' failure.

He kept pacing, cursing the Dark Lord's name in several dead languages (Latin, Atlantean, and Old Egyptian being a few) and wringing his hands.

"Curse it all!" He swore to the high heavens, and strode out of his dungeons to the kitchens for a midnight snack to take his mind off Voldemort's sure to come torture after discovering his treason.

As he neared the portrait he started to hear rhythmic clapping. Then a hushed command to be silent.

Raising his eyebrow at this, Snape waited before he heard an elf say " but this calls for a celebration Harry Potter sir!"

Ah so the insufferable Potter thought to create mischief on the first day back did he?

'This could be a great stress reliever...' he thought.

Opening the portrait, he immediately stuck to the shadows as the hole was quickly closed behind him, he was lucky enough to have the three people in the room facing away from the entrance.

"Dobby, if I get caught its probably immediate detention for me...and they'll probably take the cake too."

'Cake?' puzzled Snape. What in Merlin's name was Potter baking a cake for?

The other female house elf shook her head while icing "Harry Potter sir deserve cake, all that Harry has done and he can't eat his own cake" here she huffed "Shame on them"

Harry snickered, "I don't need pity, although we could just be quiet while eating this..."

They both got the message and dropped their voices considerately. The other house elf, male it seemed, started humming the annoying tune to 'Happy Birthday'

"Done!" Potter exclaimed, proudly leaning his weight on the other foot to look back on his masterpiece, the other house elves did too.

As he reached towards the cake, taking it gingerly in his hands, Snape decided that would be the perfect time to make his overly dramatic and scary-as-hell entrance.

"What have we here, Potter?"