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Sometimes Ivan gets entirely too fed up with the havoc and chatter that happens in the Great Hall. It's days like that where homesickness takes a hold and he disappears before dinner, slipping past the painting of the pear to steal a stove from one of the house elves.

They never mind much as long as he's polite, though they tend to crowd about and chatter lowly among themselves as they try to figure out what he's making, and it hardly takes much work to whip up some food from home.

It's a relief, really, to be able to just steal away and have some form of independence again.

And while he's been doing this for a while, to the point where the elves greet him by name (or rather little high pitched chirps of "Mr. Braggins"), things have changed. Now, when he leaves the kitchen his arms are ladden down with food not only for himself, but for Alois and Raivis as well.

It's simple for him to cook these things, and surprise the two Slytherins with it. He can't help but wish this was how dinner was more often, that they could steal away from the mass of crowds and have something far more private among themselves. A night where they can just enjoy good food, and tease each other. A night where they can just be together and have fun, something comfortable and familiar.

Something he never thought he'd have.