Before the Thanksgiving meal, Harry Potter is with Hermione Granger in one of the cafeteria's in the Tower. He's looking to make an actual dish for the meal, and he'd said that they would do it the old fashioned, muggle way. Harry had been determined to do just that. However, now that he's looking at all the ingredients and at the recipe in turn for mashed potatoes, he is wondering why on Earth he ever said such a thing.
"I thought you'd just... literally mashed potatoes," he says with a hammer in hand, staring at the recipe in confusion.
During the meal, however, he'll actually be attempting to mingle with other people. He's set the mashed potatoes in place, and they're not just any mashed potatoes but a fancy recipe or another. Don't ask how many tries that it took to actually make the bloody things. He'll be happy if he never sees another potato in his life if he's being honest.
It's why he is standing behind the mashed potatoes looking at them with something between pride and disgust. There's no telling how both expressions manage to mix on his face, but they do.
harry, why so adorable.isaywe_partyNovember 24 2011, 16:01:03 UTC
"Have you tried them yet?"
Buffy has to ask, given the look on his face. The look on hers is mixed between curiosity and amusement, but she's not entirely sure what his is about. She's assuming the potatoes are the culprit, but she could be wrong. It wouldn't be the first time.
LMFAO baw ;;fortisleoNovember 26 2011, 02:51:24 UTC
Harry shakes his head at the question, glancing over at her.
"I...think I've seen too many of them. They actually make me sick looking at them now." He shakes his head, staring with that same look on his face as he adjusts his glasses. "I thought you simply mashed potatoes and that was all there was to it. I brought a hammer along, but it turns out it's much more complicated than that."
"Mashed potatoes are a complicated and tricky thing," she nods in agreement. "But they're necessary for most Thanksgiving meals, so we thank you for your effort."
She may be teasing, just a little, but the affection is genuine. And she's sure that the mashed potatoes are more than okay.
"How did they get so tricky though? Why aren't they more simple?" Harry is honestly confused here, Buffy.
He smiles at her, scratching the back of his head. "Thank you though. I was happy to contribute, and thank you for throwing this whole... thing. Did you have better luck with the turkey? ...turkeys?"
"Humanity has a long history of making things more comfortable than they need to be. It's just how we roll," she says with a shrug, because it's true. That's just the way it works. "And the turkey came out really well. I got it extra large jumbo sized."
"But... it's not comfortable at all," Harry says, shaking his head, still in confusion, but he'll let go of the confusion and deal with it. The mashed potatoes are done. "That looks brilliant, smells brilliant too. You did a great job with it, and I know... we all appreciate having somewhere to go for Thanksgiving."
Harry certainly appreciates it even if it isn't a holiday he ever celebrated before Chicago.
She nods. "Everyone should have somewhere to go on a holiday. No matter who they are." It's one of the things she learned from her mother and never really let go of.
"They should have somewhere to go, but they wouldn't have if you hadn't worked toward putting this together," Harry says, and it's his way of expressing his own appreciation for it all. "Thank you, Buffy."
Hermione and Harry mutually decided they would prepare the dish in the Muggle way, yes. They find these things not as incomprehensible as others from their world would, having been Muggle born and with said upbringing for the first years of their life.
She looks over at Harry, her hair having grown more and more unruly as they continue in their valiant attempts. They aren't ones to give up, being the Gryffindors they are. She still finds it vexing.
It was supposed to be a simple recipe that would bring forth delicious results.
How did it all go wrong?
"This is turning into a complete disaster," she says in lament, wiping at her cheek.
Harry did not realize that the Muggle way was so difficult. Granted, he's made meals before the muggle way for his aunt and uncle and he's served them. However, mashed potatoes were never a part of the list of what he'd make for them, and he'd simply had no idea that it could be so difficult to make them. The name is so simple.
He looks over at her in turn, wincing at the sight of her hair. It looks as though they've just had a Potion's class honestly. It's how her hair always looks after one of those classes.
Harry thought one only needed to mash the potatoes after they were cleaned and peeled, but peeling potatoes is bloody difficult and then there's butter that needs to go in and milk as well.
It's not nearly as nice as it could be. There's something of a mess all across the counter, and he has a speck of the mashed potatoes on his face.
"What happened? I don't know if using a hammer was really wise now that I think about it. It seemed... like the best mashing tool."
Hermione's frowning intently while she goes over the recipe, eyes scrutinously looking over every word to see if there's something she missed--which isn't exactly probable, given Hermione's ability to digest heavy loads of information, sifting through what's extraneous to get to the important sections.
Her hair's a mess and she has specks of the mashed potatoes on her cheeks, as well.
"I don't understand. We followed the instructions to the most miniscule detail," she says almost helplessly, lifting up a spoon to try some of it and... making a face once she does.
Harry glances at her frown, certain that something similar is mirrored on his expression as he looks at the mashed potatoes. They don't even look wholly mashed at all, and he's wondering if h shouldn't have said they'd make something easier like a vegetable or something. Those simply need to be cleaned and set on a fancy plate, right?
He tries to bite back the smile that threatens to pull across his face. It's a little amusing, okay?
"Maybe this is like in potions class," he says as he looks at the recipe as well, confident that she didn't miss anything. "Only worse than that somehow."
It's more difficult than potions, which seems ridiculous but here they are.
Harry's fairly certain he could brew a potion better than make mashed potatoes. "We do have a lot of potatoes. I suppose we could... try it again?" He's still got his hammer.
There is nothing amusing about it and everything disastrous. Which you already said, Hermione. It needs not emphatic repetition. Her eyes narrow at him, as if sensing he is about to smile. This is Hermione. She can sense these things with her best friend.
"There must have been something we overlooked but I simply cannot find it," Hermione laments, brows furrowed into a determined frown.
There is intense focus going on here. She looks over at Harry.
"Of course we'll try again!" she says, as if the alternative is unforgivable. "And again, if need be. We are not leaving until we've successfully accomplished this, Harry."
It's only amusing because of the way that she looks, hair all frazzled. Harry finds that amusing, but he doesn't find this whole mashed potatoes experience amusing, no.
Harry honestly didn't think it would be that difficult. Even when the recipe said there was more to it than mashing potatoes, Harry didn't think it looked so bloody complicated. Harry glances at her in turn, groaning slightly as he looks back at the mess.
"Do you think we over did something? Can you mash them too much?" He doesn't even know if that's a possibilities. "Or... not enough?"
He can try hitting it all with a hammer again. Harry, hammers are not used in cooking.
Harry's mouth drops just slightly at her answer, having half expected it. "Can't we simply buy one of those instant types or the ones that come premade?" He already knows the answer that she's going to give him. "...because I think we could kill a lot of potatoes this way."
"I thought you'd just... literally mashed potatoes," he says with a hammer in hand, staring at the recipe in confusion.
During the meal, however, he'll actually be attempting to mingle with other people. He's set the mashed potatoes in place, and they're not just any mashed potatoes but a fancy recipe or another. Don't ask how many tries that it took to actually make the bloody things. He'll be happy if he never sees another potato in his life if he's being honest.
It's why he is standing behind the mashed potatoes looking at them with something between pride and disgust. There's no telling how both expressions manage to mix on his face, but they do.
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Buffy has to ask, given the look on his face. The look on hers is mixed between curiosity and amusement, but she's not entirely sure what his is about. She's assuming the potatoes are the culprit, but she could be wrong. It wouldn't be the first time.
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"I...think I've seen too many of them. They actually make me sick looking at them now." He shakes his head, staring with that same look on his face as he adjusts his glasses. "I thought you simply mashed potatoes and that was all there was to it. I brought a hammer along, but it turns out it's much more complicated than that."
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She may be teasing, just a little, but the affection is genuine. And she's sure that the mashed potatoes are more than okay.
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He smiles at her, scratching the back of his head. "Thank you though. I was happy to contribute, and thank you for throwing this whole... thing. Did you have better luck with the turkey? ...turkeys?"
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Harry certainly appreciates it even if it isn't a holiday he ever celebrated before Chicago.
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She looks over at Harry, her hair having grown more and more unruly as they continue in their valiant attempts. They aren't ones to give up, being the Gryffindors they are. She still finds it vexing.
It was supposed to be a simple recipe that would bring forth delicious results.
How did it all go wrong?
"This is turning into a complete disaster," she says in lament, wiping at her cheek.
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He looks over at her in turn, wincing at the sight of her hair. It looks as though they've just had a Potion's class honestly. It's how her hair always looks after one of those classes.
Harry thought one only needed to mash the potatoes after they were cleaned and peeled, but peeling potatoes is bloody difficult and then there's butter that needs to go in and milk as well.
It's not nearly as nice as it could be. There's something of a mess all across the counter, and he has a speck of the mashed potatoes on his face.
"What happened? I don't know if using a hammer was really wise now that I think about it. It seemed... like the best mashing tool."
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Her hair's a mess and she has specks of the mashed potatoes on her cheeks, as well.
"I don't understand. We followed the instructions to the most miniscule detail," she says almost helplessly, lifting up a spoon to try some of it and... making a face once she does.
This is very much not good.
What went wrong?
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He tries to bite back the smile that threatens to pull across his face. It's a little amusing, okay?
"Maybe this is like in potions class," he says as he looks at the recipe as well, confident that she didn't miss anything. "Only worse than that somehow."
It's more difficult than potions, which seems ridiculous but here they are.
Harry's fairly certain he could brew a potion better than make mashed potatoes. "We do have a lot of potatoes. I suppose we could... try it again?" He's still got his hammer.
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There is nothing amusing about it and everything disastrous. Which you already said, Hermione. It needs not emphatic repetition. Her eyes narrow at him, as if sensing he is about to smile. This is Hermione. She can sense these things with her best friend.
"There must have been something we overlooked but I simply cannot find it," Hermione laments, brows furrowed into a determined frown.
There is intense focus going on here. She looks over at Harry.
"Of course we'll try again!" she says, as if the alternative is unforgivable. "And again, if need be. We are not leaving until we've successfully accomplished this, Harry."
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Harry honestly didn't think it would be that difficult. Even when the recipe said there was more to it than mashing potatoes, Harry didn't think it looked so bloody complicated. Harry glances at her in turn, groaning slightly as he looks back at the mess.
"Do you think we over did something? Can you mash them too much?" He doesn't even know if that's a possibilities. "Or... not enough?"
He can try hitting it all with a hammer again. Harry, hammers are not used in cooking.
Harry's mouth drops just slightly at her answer, having half expected it. "Can't we simply buy one of those instant types or the ones that come premade?" He already knows the answer that she's going to give him. "...because I think we could kill a lot of potatoes this way."
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