A scene from the Potterverse.

He was in the mood for pancakes, she made waffles. He’d shouted in his rage and she’d turned round, a spatula in her hand and a look of crimson rage upon her face.<br><br>“Do you know what I did today?” she asked.<br><br>“Fuck off, I’m not talking to you!” he’d shouted back at her, slamming the bedroom door shut in his angry stomp.<br><br>She went after him, the spatula still clutched within her hand. He slammed the bedroom door on her and she turned the handle, but he’d locked it. The wood snapped and splintered as she opened the door.<br><br>“Do you know what I did today?” she asked, her voice rising.<br><br>“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me. You stupid-” she rapped his knuckles with the spatula.<br><br>“Fuck off, you fat cunt!”<br><br>She rapped his knuckles again, her hand trembling with her rage.<br><br>“Do you know what I did today?” she asked again.<br><br>He glared at her, pushing his hair out of his angry face.<br><br>“Yes, I know what you did today! You got your portrait painted, that’s what you did. Then you came home and decided to make me waffles instead of pancakes, that’s what you did. Now stop hitting me!”<br><br>“I made pancakes for my family, for my child, for everything that I love in this world above all else. I made pancakes for my son, my beautiful-” she rapped his knuckles again.<br><br>“Stop, stop hitting me! How am I supposed to hold my wand if you keep hitting my knuckles?”<br><br>“I made pancakes for the family you’ll never know. Now eat them up, and don’t you fucking dare throw them away. You’re going to sit there and eat them and you’re going to smile and you’re going to tell me that it’s the best thing that you’ve ever tasted. Do you understand?”<br><br>He scowled and he frowned, rubbing his hand as he nodded reluctantly.<br><br>“Oh, and Harry?”<br><br>“Yes?”<br><br>“You’re going to do as you’re told.”<br><br>The kitchen was filled with the sound of his sullen breathing as he sat at the table. She placed a plate of pancakes in front of him and he ignored them. She sat down, her eyes never leaving his face, and waited for him to eat like a dog waiting for scraps. He scowled at her, hating her with all of his heart. He wanted to kill her, to torture her, to make her hurt the way that he hurt.<br><br>But she was his mother, and he did as he was told.