Kiss the Cook ~part 1
Title: Kiss the Cook (1/4)
Rating: PG13
Length: 9820 words, part 1 of 4
Genre: Romance/Humor/Drama
Pairings: Harry/Draco and minor Ron/Hermione
Summary: Harry, Ron, and Hermione take cooking classes over the summer after fifth year. Draco starts thinking for himself, which doesn‘t go over well. Cooking, fire, loos, kisses, betrayal, and secrets.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, quotes, or even idea. : ( But my words!
Note: Written for hump_day101 using the prompt ‘I think I forgot’ (fluff), and _hpchallenge with the word ‘banana.’ The idea of the trio taking cooking classes to get away from things is credited to Remus's Nymph.
All Parts
Kiss the Cook
~ Mothers, food, love, and career, the four major guilt groups. -Cathy Guisewite
~ One cannot refuse to eat just because there is a chance of being choked. -Chinese Proverb
Sunday August 4, 1996
“Harry, Ron! Could you tear yourselves away from the chessboard for two minutes? I understand how hard it is, but I’ve something to say,” Hermione said again, this time mixing a bit of niceness into her sarcastic tone. The two boys simply nodded her way.
“I’m winning here, Hermione. Wait till the game’s over.” Ron commanded his rook to move, and beamed gleefully when it smashed Harry’s last bishop and carried it off the board. Harry sighed heavily, looking sadly at his few remaining pieces. He had absolutely no talent for chess; he couldn’t plan moves out like Ron could.
“Harry,” she huffed, turning to only face her shorter friend. “Ron always wins. Take some time away from losing for me, please?”
Harry held up a lone finger and quickly moved his pawn, mistakenly, into a spot for Ron’s pawn to take. He looked up at Hermione, ignoring Ron’s crackling laughing across him.
“Look,” her voice was less harsh now that she’d received attention. She handed a flyer to Harry, who glanced at it then at Hermione skeptically. The heading said ‘Cooking with Bananas’ “Read it, read it,” she encouraged.
Harry looked at it in doubt. It read:
Cooking with Bananas
Have a flair for cooking? Want to simply try it out? Need something to do this summer?
Then join Cooking with Bananas, a new cooking class that uses bananas in every recipe.
When: August 5th to August 13th, Monday thru Friday.
How long: Each class is two hours and will consist of making food and eating it.
Where: Clipton High School, the Culinary room. 53 Drafty Lane, Clipton
Cost: 16 pounds
Sign up: at 020 3579336 and ask for Dolly Werner.
Harry snorted and passed it wordlessly to Ron, who was paying attention now that Harry wasn‘t playing the game. Harry waited until Ron set the flyer on the chessboard before looking into Hermione’s hopeful face.
“Cooking?” Ron scoffed. “Don’t tell me you want us to go to a cooking class?” At Hermione’s nod, he whined, “But I don’t like cooking. I suck at it, and cooking’s for girls.”
Hermione glared at him. Harry reached his foot around the game and kicked Ron’s leg. He shouldn’t have said cooking was for girls, Hermione appeared enormously riffled by it. She had a wild look in her eyes as she announced smugly, “I already spoke to your Mum and she loves the idea. So you’re going whether you like it or not.”
Ron gaped angrily at her, and then fled out the room and down the stairs.
Hermione smiled sweetly at Harry, who rolled his eyes, knowing that if Ron were being forced to attend Harry would have to. There was no way Ron would let Harry stay at the Burrow while he sat in some school kitchen burning banana-filled foods.
They both turned to the door as angry voices filled the house. Ron must have found Mrs. Weasley, and they were having a shouting match.
“I guess I’ll have to if Ron goes,” Harry sighed.
Hermione appeared to be debating something as she shifted her feet and bit her lip. Finally, she crossed the room and sat on the floor beside Harry. She patted his knee, and Harry’s eyebrows shot up. What was she going to say that warranted a comforting pat? Harry stiffened, hoping it wasn’t about Sirius and the Ministry of Magic incident only a few meager months ago. Harry had decided to push the matter as far from his mind as he could. Thinking about it brought too many unwanted emotions.
“None of us can make you go,” she said. Harry held his breath as she took a deep breath. “I want to do this to get our minds - all of ours - off what happened at the Ministry. I know you don’t want to talk about it Harry but -”
“Then don’t,” Harry said more sharply then he had intended.
Hermione pulled away slightly. “Fine, I won’t. Just think about it, coming that is. I think it will do us all good. Ginny’s coming too, so it’ll be all four of us.”
Harry stared into the encouraging visage of his friend and felt himself giving in. It was only cooking after all. And maybe if he went it would stop Hermione’s attempts to talk about Sirius. “I’ll go if Ron has too,” he said, feeling a smile tug at his lips upon seeing Hermione’s joy.
“Great! It’ll be so much fun.” She suddenly became serious and looked down at him from where she had jumped up. “And I think it’ll be good.”
Luckily, Ron stormed into the room before Hermione decided to continue. Harry grinned at him but Ron only scowled in return.
“Mum’s making me,” he announced in distaste. “Said if I complain any more I’ll get grounded too.” Ron puzzled both of them by perking up at the last word. “Gin’s grounded!” He waved absently at Hermione’s reproachful look. “No, she was having an attitude with Mum about de-gnoming and had broken Mum’s favorite vase.” He burst into loud raucous laughter, which stopped abruptly after Ginny walked up behind him and whacked him upside the head.
“Shut it, prat. I’ll have you know I’m not grounded.” She smirked at Ron. “Mum gave me a choice.” She turned to Hermione and smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry, Hermione. I know you really wanted all of us to go to that cooking thing, but I can’t now.”
“Why?” Harry couldn’t help but ask. Now it would be uneven. What if they had to work in partners and Harry was stuck with someone unpleasant.
“I had a choice of not going to it or being grounded for two weeks. Mum’s really wired up and taking everything to extremes,” she explained because of Harry and Hermione’s surprised faces. “I didn’t want grounded since I told Luna I’d stay at her house for a few days. Well…she doesn’t have many people over.” She grinned awkwardly.
“That’s okay, Ginny. At least you wanted to go and made an effort to,” Hermione said, sending a glare in Ron’s direction. Ron, for his part, shrugged and looked at Harry, his eyes lighting up.
“That’s too bad,” Harry said to Ginny, hoping to avoid Hermione raving at Ron. “It would have been nice if you could come.” Ginny smiled widely at him but Ron said, “You‘re going, right Harry?” before Ginny could open her mouth.
“Well, I don’t know,” Harry started, hoping to make Ron squirm. “It’s cooking.”
Ron’s mouth opened in shock. Hermione hid her smile behind her hand and whispered to Ginny, who smiled humorously at Harry.
“But - but, we always do stuff together. And I don’t want to go either but - come on! I’ll - I’ll let you win at chess!” He smiled triumphantly then frowned once he realized what he’d offered.
Harry laughed. “Fine. If I can win chess.” He wondered how hard it was for Ron to offer that and if he would actually go through with it.
Ron sulked and sat down in front of the chessboard. Ginny was bent over, barking in laughter and Hermione winked at Harry.
“So, when was the last time you lost, Ron?” Harry questioned, rubbing his hands together.
“It’s not like it really counts. I mean, I’m letting you win,” Ron said bitterly.
“Still means you lose,” Ginny said, slapping Ron on the back before she walked to the door with Hermione at her heels.
“When do we sign up for it?” Harry asked, stopping Hermione in the doorway.
“I already did,” was all she said before she followed Ginny down the stairs. Harry and Ron looked at each other.
“How’d you know we would go?” Ron yelled, but she didn’t answer.
~~~
Draco sat primly, spooning small bits of elf-made food into his mouth, and listening to his parents plan his wedding. Which wouldn’t happen for years though that didn’t stop Narcissa from bringing it up at least once a week and speaking fondly about how lovely Draco’s future bride is getting and how delightful the wedding will be.
Draco usually got through these talks by gritting his teeth and chanting inside his head ‘you won’t have to marry anyone because once you’re of age they can’t do anything about it…’
“I was talking to Clare the other day and she showed me a recent picture of Pansy. Her new haircut fits her. She is turning into quite the gorgeous young woman, is she not, Draco?” Narcissa smiled serenely at him. Lucius rolled his eyes good-naturally.
Draco nodded and stabbed his pork harsher than usual. He took a long time chewing as to evade talking.
“You are still dating her, right?” Lucius asked. Draco suspected he had detected his sour mood.
Draco set his fork on his plate unhurriedly and tried to control himself. He was sick of this, of being told what to do and being expected of so many things he didn’t want. “I haven’t dated her since fourth year,” Draco spat before he could stop himself.
Narcissa’s eyes widened in alarm while Lucius’ narrowed.
“Why not?” he asked dangerously.
Narcissa frowned in concern. “I thought you liked Pansy. You wanted to marry her. That’s why we had arranged the marriage -”
“Mother!” Draco snapped, his fingers curling around the edge of the table. “I wanted to marry her when I was nine. When she was one of the few people I talked to.” Narcissa looked hurt so Draco continued softly, feeling guilty about bursting at his mother when it was his father that was pressuring him.
“I do like Pansy,” Draco started, sliding his hands off the table to curl into fists below it. “Just not like that. We are friends and nothing more.”
Narcissa took a large sip of wine. Lucius, on the other hand, was not subdued. He glared down the table at Draco and said, “You will learn to like her. The Parkinson’s are a good family to marry into, and we’ve already set it all up. You will marry the girl.”
“Maybe I don’t want to take part in some things this family does.” Draco sat back in his chair, his eyes straying to Lucius’ left forearm. As of lately, Draco had been thinking about what he wanted to do with his future. One thing he didn’t want was being put in Azkaban because he followed some homicidal man who couldn’t overcome a child.
“I take it you’re not only talking about the marriage.” Lucius’ voice was carefully measured and gave nothing away. Draco felt chilled at the sound of it.
“I’ve been doing some thinking,” Draco replied shortly, picking his fork back up.
“Draco, when I am talking to you, you do not start eating as a way of avoiding it. You brought it up so you must want to talk about it.”
Draco placed his fork back on the plate and glanced at Narcissa, whose eyes were wide and bouncing between them as they spoke. She would be no help.
“Tell me. Why don’t you want to serve our master?” Narcissa let out a stifled gasp at Lucius’ irate words. Draco refrained from looking at her.
He straightened and looked his father in the eye. “I never said that.”
“But it’s what you were implying.”
Draco took a deep breath and stared at the edge of a picture frame behind Lucius’ right shoulder. There was no way he would be able to look at him and say what he was about to, but he couldn’t simply turn away either.
“I’m undecided. I’ve seen what he’s done to you, to his followers. He didn’t even try getting you out of Azkaban. We had to bail you out and Mother had to pull a lot of strings. She groveled. And besides, the Dark Lord couldn’t even finish off a baby. The other times he hadn’t been able to either. I don’t want to go onto a losing side,” Draco finished, his voice weak in the last sentence as he had looked at Lucius’ murderous face. There was so much more he wanted to say but bravery was never one of Draco’s strong aspects.
Lucius stiffened and stared at the doorway, collecting himself. Draco looked at his mother to find her oddly flushed. He guessed he shouldn’t have mentioned her groveling but it was true. And Malfoy’s didn’t grovel.
Narcissa held Draco’s gaze. Was it his imagination or did she look hopeful?
“It’s not for you to decide,” Lucius said, turning his head to Draco.
Draco opened his mouth to protest when Narcissa’s tentative voice spoke, surprising both of the male Malfoys. Death Eater discussion was strictly kept between the two of them, Narcissa had never interrupted before.
“Let the boy have his own opinions, Lucius. He’ll never be his own man if you force your views on him.” She avoided their eyes by drinking more of the wine. Draco wondered if she’d had too much wine.
“Narcissa…” Lucius warned
“No,” she said, placing the expertly-designed cup down gently. “Draco has made some valid points and if you want him to agree with you, you should talk them out with him. In a nice, non-threatening manner.”
Lucius switched his cold eyes from Narcissa to Draco, as if blaming him for having Narcissa on his side.
“Are you saying you want our only son to defy our master and run off carousing with the Order?”
Draco resented that. He opened his mouth to say that just because he might not want to be a Death Eater didn’t mean he wanted to join the equally as insane other side, but Narcissa cut him off again.
“No, Lucius. Calm down.” For he was seething up a sight. “Would you like to talk about this in private?”
Lucius glanced over at Draco before he nodded and stood, leading the way out of the dinning room. Apparently he didn’t want to reveal to Draco how little control he had over his wife. Narcissa stood and gave Draco an encouraging nod before she followed Lucius out of the room. Draco only wished he knew what Narcissa was encouraging.
Monday August 5, 1996
Harry was, suffice to say, slightly excited about going to the cooking class. It wasn’t that he wanted to cook, he just wanted to get out of the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley was so stressed that she snapped at everyone and constantly warned them about everything. Harry didn’t blame her though. She did have a large family to worry about, and they weren’t all in the same place. With Mr. Weasley always at work, Fred and George living at their shop, Charlie in Romania, Bill at Gringotts, and Percy not speaking, she only had two of her family members around.
She was constantly fretting and annoying the four living with her. They didn’t tell her, though Ginny and Mrs. Weasley had been having much more arguments than other summers Harry had been there, and Ron had taken to making Harry peep around the corners to make sure his mum wasn’t there. Hermione thought it was all ridiculous and they should try to comfort Mrs. Weasley, that is until she snapped at Hermione.
Harry suspected Ron was also glad to be getting out of the house. Ginny was envious about them leaving her behind with Mrs. Weasley if her longing stare at them till they walked out of sight said anything.
“How much longer?” Ron whined as they reached the outskirts of the muggle town nearby. Mrs. Weasley had offered to take them there but with no car, she quickly declined.
“Ron, we’ve barely been walking for twenty minutes.” She sighed heavily but swiped at her brow. It was extremely hot. Ron had started out walking barefoot because he couldn’t be bothered to put sweat-inducing shoes on, but the pavement burnt his feet so he had to wear them. Harry’s feet, on the other hand, could handle heat and he was enjoying walking barefoot, except for when he stepped on the sharp little rocks.
“How you play Quidditch but can’t take a half hour walk…” Hermione mumbled.
Ron was about to snap something back when Harry spotted a large school down the street. “I see it! That’s it, right?” he asked eagerly. He hoped they had air condition.
Hermione pointed to the sign in front of it, barely legible from where they were, and nodded. Harry himself couldn’t read it. He suspected that perhaps he needed a new prescription. But Ron was squinting at it too so maybe Hermione just had excellent eyesight from reading all those books.
Eventually they reached the school, where Ron found enough energy to run up the stairs and into it. Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered something that sounded like “stupid boy only works when he wants something.”
They read the paper posted on the door that told the cooking class that the culinary room was down the right, last door on the left. Harry shoved his shoes on, feet feeling weird with no socks, and trudged after Hermione.
They both sighed as the cool air fell over them, making them gasp at first from the drastic difference. Ron was standing in the middle of the dull hallway surrounded by blue lockers and grinning stupidly.
“This is great,” Ron said, waving his arm vaguely around. Harry assumed he was talking about the air condition.
Hermione raised her eyebrows at him. “Wizards have cooling charms.”
“Yes, but they’re more subtle, not like walking into an ice box.” Ron took a deep breath and twirled in a circle, with that stupid grin that appeared to be permanently attached to him. “So, how are we to know where to go?”
“Last door on the left, down the right hallway,” Hermione answered promptly then set off down said hallway. Ron gapped at Harry, who decided to let him think Hermione knew everything.
“Come on, Ron.” Harry grabbed his arm and pulled him along. They were already late because of Ron and him dragging their feet the whole time.
Hermione waited at the door for them, so they could all walk in together, she said. But Harry thought she just didn’t want to walk into a class late without Harry and Ron beside her to blame.
Sure enough, the moment they walked in Hermione smiled in apology at the Professor and said, “I’m sorry. Those two just wouldn’t walk.”
Ron nudged Harry in the ribs and stuck his tongue out at Hermione’s back. Harry was busy looking around and so didn’t share in Ron’s humor. The inside of the culinary room was much nicer than the hallways. There were ten mini kitchens equipped with appliances like a stove, fridge, microwave, and toaster. The mini kitchens were separated and closed in by counters and shelves that ran around the borders, making each kitchen seem like a closet that had the top half of the wall chopped off.
“That’s okay, Hon. We started late anyway. Everyone seems to move slower the hotter the weather gets,” a large woman with red cheeks, beady eyes, and warm smile said. She was sitting in the center of the room on a child-sized plastic chair. Around her were five girls and one boy, all sitting on chairs like the Professor’s in varying colors.
“Take a seat, take a seat,” she said, her voice bubbly as she looked around at the children gathered before her. Hermione smiled widely and took the nearest purple chair. Harry and Ron sat on either side of her.
Hermione elbowed the both of them, looking at the Professor, and smiled. “She seems nice.” Ron nodded along with Harry.
“Now, that makes…” the Professor counted everyone by pointing at them. “Nine! We’re missing someone. Well, we’ll figure out who when we take roll.”
“Excuse me,” Hermione said, raising her hand. “But that would be Ginny Weasley. She’s unable to come at all.”
“Aww, well that’s too bad.” She clapped her hands together. “But life happens and we must move on. I want to get to know all of you so please state your name and why you’re here.”
She pointed to a Japanese girl who declared herself as Keiko Jong. When she spoke she tipped her head forward so her short black hair fell into her eyes. “I just moved here and was hoping to meet people.”
A skinny girl with a sharp face and the ends of her hair dyed pink snorted rudely. The Professor smiled broadly at Keiko and exclaimed loudly, “Great! A new person. How long ago did you move here?”
Keiko’s face turned bright red as she mumbled, “A week ago.” Harry figured she was extremely shy.
“And where from?”
“Japan.” She was bent over so far her chin threatened to bump into her knee. The boy beside her tapped her arm and smiled.
“That’s cool. Welcome to Britain. I’m Oliver Albright and I’m here because I hope to be a chef someday.” The Professor practically moaned in delight. Ron reached over Hermione to poke Harry.
“He’s a ponce,” Ron whispered, talking about his pink and yellow striped shirt and how he moved his hands avidly when he spoke. The girl on the other side of Ron, with the pink-ended hair and harsh face, laughed loudly. Hermione shoved Ron back in his seat and gave him a look.
The Professor told Oliver to see her after class about some information in pursuing that career. She nodded at the pink-haired girl, who looked at Oliver skeptically before she said, “Carmen Russel. Here because my parents thought it would do me good. You’re turn,” she added to Ron.
Ron blinked. “I’m Ron Weasley. I’m here - er - because she and my mum made me,” he said, pointing at Hermione. The class laughed as Hermione gave him a withering look.
“At least he’s truthful,” the Professor said with a deep laugh. Harry was so surprised to hear such a deep sound resounding out of her body that he missed Hermione’s introduction and didn’t realize it was his turn until Hermione’s nails dug into his side.
“Oh! Erm, I’m here because…I’m Harry Potter. Erm, this gets me out of Ron’s house.” Hermione rolled her eyes and Ron pretended to be hurt. Harry loved the fact that no one looked in recognition at him.
“What’s wrong with my house, Harry? Do I bore you that much? Sick of losing to me at chess?” Ron asked, pouting a bit for good measure. The two girls on Harry’s left giggled.
“You play chess?” the blond one in pigtails asked. She had a big mouth and seemed to enjoy moving it a lot to speak. “I’m good at that. Once I was pitted against the school chess team and it was my first time ever playing. I hardly knew the rules and all, but I beat every last one of them!”
The girl beside her shook her head wildly. Ron grinned unsurely at her.
“That’s not what your friend there says,” the pink Carmen said, smiling nastily at Pigtail’s friend. “I bet you never even played it.”
“She did!” Pigtail’s friend piped, pressed into defending by her friend’s hurt look. “Just, she only won against the blind kid.” She smiled at Pigtails. “But it was an epic win, April, really. You were spectacular.”
April smiled and touched her friend’s arm, encouraging more out of her when the Professor spoke up with, “And who are you, our chess player?”
“I’m April Bacon and this here is Mary Beecher. We’re here so we don’t have to baby-sit my annoying little brother.” She looked at Harry and Ron. “And to meet cute guys.”
Harry decided they reminded him of Parvati and Lavender. Hermione was looking at them with narrowed eyes.
“And I’m Nashira Almeda. My name is a star in the constellation of Capricornus. I’m here because I have nothing better to do.” She brushed her thin dirty-blonde hair over her shoulder and smiled at the Professor. “And I’m interested to see how many different foods you can make out of bananas.”
The Professor smiled and clapped her hands together. Harry and Ron looked at each other over Hermione, who muttered, “Suck up.” That only made them laugh seeing as who had said that.
“Now that we know who all our splendid people are, I’ll introduce myself. I’m Dolly Werner. I want all of you to call me Dolly. Not any of that Professor Werner, Madam stuff.” She smiled. “I learned the culinary arts abroad in America. Along with owning a restaurant, I decided to teach classes during the summer because I love kids. Though, I guess you wouldn’t like to be called kids, eh?” she said to the class, where the majority was scrunching their noses. “Love to teach teens. That better?”
She carried on talking about bananas and why she choose them of all foods for the theme. Hermione sat attentively. Harry was interested at first. Who knew bananas where good for all that stuff? They are one of the quickest ways to cure hangovers, except for magic, can get rid of warts and bug bites, and help people giving up smoking, along with many other things that Harry tuned out to, instead, study everyone’s shoes.
“Now, there is no cooking today as this took up most of our two hours, but you get to sample a Banana cream pie I made this morning, so come up, gather around.”
The word food woke Harry from his daydream and sent Ron leaping to the counter. Oliver was the first one there and was cutting pieces off and handing them to everyone.
“Thanks,” Harry said while Ron scowled.
“I could have gotten my own,” he mumbled to Harry. Hermione swatted him on the arm.
Everyone retook their seats to eat the banana cream pie. It was smooth and delicious. Even Ron was slightly excited about attending the next day, if only to eat food.
~~~
Last evening his parents hadn’t returned so Draco retired to his room. He’d spent most of the next day in there too, not wanting to get into an argument with Lucius. Eventually he became hungry and set off down the curving staircase. His mother forbade eating anywhere in the manor besides the kitchen and dining rooms.
A knock sounded from the door when Draco reached the bottom of the stairs. He watched curiously as one of their house elves appeared at the door and opened it to a beefy man with sallow skin. Draco recognized him as one of Lucius’ cousins.
“Why Draco, where might I find your father?” he asked in a gruff voice.
Draco silently pointed at the house elf holding her hands out for the man’s hat. Draco left with the elf’s squeaky voice in his ears.
“Follow me, Sir. Follow Hoksy, Sir. She show you to Master.”
Draco wondered if he could find a spell to change house elves’ voices for the better. He sat at the kitchen island and ordered another house elf for eggs and bacon.
When he finished eating, the kitchen door opened and Lucius walked in, his cousin at his heels. Narcissa trailed behind them. Lucius and Draco stared at each other, neither one looking away or talking.
Finally Lucius said, “Tristen was telling me about his son’s friend that is attending a cooking class.”
That was so far away from what Draco expected him to say that he could only blink and peer at all the faces in the room. Narcissa looked just as surprised as he felt.
“He also tells me,” Lucius continued, “that Harry Potter is in the class.”
Potter in a cooking class? Draco almost snorted with laughter. He could just see Potter cooking stroganoff and burning the whole kitchen to a crisp.
But, wait…why were they telling him this?
“Are you saying you want me to -”
“Take the class, yes,” Lucius finished.
Draco’s mouth fell open and he looked at Narcissa, hoping for her to come to his rescue like the other day, but she only smiled and nodded. Lucius must have talked her into siding with him.
“No way. I refuse to take some stuffy cooking class.” Draco stomped his foot on the ground in one quick jab. He wasn’t going to stand for everything they threw at him. And this - this was just insane.
“You don’t get to choose, Draco,” Lucius said coldly. His cousin smirked. “This is your punishment for your disobedience yesterday. Your task is to gather any information you can on Potter and to do more of that thinking about things you seem to like. You will see our way and come back. Though, if you don’t have anything to offer us we might not let it slide so easily.”
He stalked out the door. Tristen raised his eyebrows at Draco and said, “My son doesn’t give me any troubles like that. Maybe you need to be stricter.” Narcissa waved him off with a sour look on her face.
“That man. I’ve never like him. As impolite as they come. Doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.” She looked at Draco and sighed heavily. “Draco, I know you don’t want to go, but your father is very set on it, it appears. Who knows, maybe it’ll do some good.” She gave him a look that Draco didn’t understand.
“But I don’t want to go!”
“Draco,” she said sternly, stopping him from objecting any longer. “Be a good son.” She stroked his hair fondly then left.
Draco glowered at the shutting door. He took his anger out by yelling at the house elf for making awful food.
~~~
Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked in the Burrow, almost bumping into Mrs. Weasley, who was standing right at the door.
“You’re all okay?” she asked, reaching out and brushing Ron’s bangs out of his face.
“Yes, Mum,” Ron sighed, moving out of her hands but less harshly than he had been lately. “It’s good. Nothing weird happened. No one attacked us, and we ate some scrumptious banana cream pie.”
Hermione smiled and patted Mrs. Weasley on the arm. She grinned softly at the three of them then darted off to the kitchen to make supper.
“Mum’s losing it,” Ron whispered. Hermione shoved him at the steps and whispered harshly, “Don’t speak about your mother like that.”
“But it’s true,” Ron moaned, stopping at the landing to bang on Ginny’s door. “We’re back,” he called at Ginny’s inquiring of whom it was.
The door flung open to reveal an angry looking Ginny, her red hair falling around her face. “Good!” She grabbed Ron’s arm and tugged him in. Harry and Hermione followed. “Mum’s gone crazy! She sent me to my room just because I wanted to go down and walk with you lot here.”
“Oh, I imagine she thought it would be unsafe,” Hermione said sympathetically. “I mean, before I got her to agree that it was a good thing for Ron to go, I had to convince her by saying we’d carry our wands with, and Harry or I would send out a patronus to her if we got attacked.”
“You had to convince her?” Ron frowned at Hermione. “She didn’t even want me to go in the first place? I could have not went!”
“I’d gladly trade places with you,” Ginny said wistfully. “How was it? What’d you do?”
“It was okay. She mainly talked forever about bananas. Banana this, banana that,” Ron mocked. Ginny looked pointedly at Harry and Hermione.
“It’s true,” Harry supplied.
Hermione shook her head wearily. “It was very fascinating. Did you know bananas can help get rid of warts?”
Ginny grimaced. “No offense, but that’s icky. And don’t lecture me about bananas!” For Hermione had opened her mouth, an intellectual gleam in her eyes. Ron laughed when she snapped her mouth shut with a short glare.
“I wasn’t going to,” she said unpersuasively.
“Uh-huh. So what else did you do?”
“We played a get-to-know-everyone game,” Harry said. Ginny looked in interest at him so he explained, “The first person named a food and the next person repeated it and said one of their own, and so forth…Actually,” He turned to Ron and Hermione. “How’d that get us to know each other?”
“I don’t know,” Ron said. Hermione agreed. “But she had the best banana cream pie! It’s to die for.” Ron quieted and swayed with a look of ecstasy on his face. Hermione tried to conceal a grin as she watched him.
“That good, eh?” Ginny asked, leaning forward and poking him out of his daydream.
“It was good,” Hermione said.
“Oh! What about the people there?” Ginny looked at Hermione and winked. “Any cute guys?”
Ron frowned. “There was only one other bloke besides us, and he’s as gay as a bendy straw.”
“I like those,” Harry mussed. “No! Those one that are all circular and curly, those are neat.”
Ron laughed. Hermione and Ginny shook their heads at them.
“Well, was he cute?” Ginny insisted, prompting Hermione with a large grin.
A blush coated Hermione’s nose. The smile slipped off Ron’s face like stinksap. “I guess he’s not bad to look at.” Ginny collapsed into a fit of giggles and Hermione’s smile widened. “He has these beautiful, striking blue eyes. Kind of like Ron’s but more vibrant.”
Ginny groaned. “Eww, well that just ruined it for me. Now he just looks like Ron in my head. Thanks a lot, Hermione.” She laughed at Ginny’s reaction, which cut off short at Ron’s hostile voice.
“I thought he looked poncy. And butt-ugly. Didn’t he, Harry?” He rounded on Harry, who held up his hands and backed down on Ginny’s bed. The owner of the bed skipped over and sat beside him.
“This is going to be a dozy,” she whispered in Harry’s ear. He nodded.
“Should we try to break it up before it starts?” But Ginny shook her head passionately and whispered back, “Maybe Ron’ll get a clue for once.” Harry doubted it.
“It’s not nice to talk about other people behind their back. Especially if you don’t know anything about them,” Hermione spoke tersely, her cheeks flaring up in anger.
Ron had the grace to look embarrassed, but he shrugged and said, “I know enough.”
“What - what do you know that warrants that rudeness?”
Ron opened and closed his mouth a few times, obviously trying to think of something quickly. Harry wished he could toss him a lifeline but he didn’t want to get in the middle of it. And beside, he thought Oliver had seemed nice, a bit too eager but nice.
“Well, you think he’s cute!” Ron exclaimed wretchedly.
Hermione froze and stared at him calmly. “What does that speak to you?”
Harry watched Ron’s brow crease in confusion, and he thought he wasn’t going to get it. Ginny seemed to think so too for she made an incredulous click of her tongue. But then Ron’s eyes widened and he looked at Hermione.
“That I like you?” He started the sentence with no question but quickly tilted the last word to make it into one. Hermione rubbed her face and that redness was still on her nose, though Harry didn’t think it was from being angry anymore.
Ginny snorted and buried her face into Harry’s sleeve to stifle her giggles. Harry smiled down at her. Ron looked over at them, his blush spreading from his ears down his neck.
“Do you want to talk? Away from them?” Ron asked, turning to Hermione, who nodded briskly and waited for Ron to leave the room before she shared a small grin with Ginny.
Once the door shut, Ginny pulled away from Harry and burst out in laughter. “You know what I just realized?”
“What?” Harry moved away from her slightly; she was quite insane sometimes.
She smiled comically. “During those cooking class and the walks to and fro - oh the walks - you’ll be stuck with them!” Harry groaned.
Tuesday August 6, 1996
Draco was angry. He didn’t want to wear scratchy muggle clothes, drive in a muggle car (the fact that it was magically advanced didn’t count), but mostly he didn’t want to be going to a muggle cooking class to make muggle foods with muggles - and Potter.
This was all Potter’s fault. If Potter wasn’t in the class Draco wouldn’t be going there. On the other hand, he could blame it on his second cousin’s friend, of whom he didn’t know.
“Who’s David’s friend?” Draco asked his mother, who was sitting beside him in the back of the mini limo.
Narcissa rapped her head in thought. “It was a weird name. Nashura or Nashirka. Something like that.”
“Is she a muggle?” Draco’s lips curled instinctively into a sneer.
“You know, I don’t know.”
Draco sighed. “I hate this.”
Narcissa patted his hand. Draco pulled it back roughly. “I know, Draco, but make the best of this.” She widened her eyes at him and gave him the same encouraging look she had the evening she said he could have his own views.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Draco asked irritably.
Narcissa gave him a soft glare that didn’t quite mask her hurt. “Now, Draco! Don’t talk to your mother like that. I gave birth to you, you know. Hours of excruciating labor.”
Draco replied shortly, “They have spells for that.”
“Here we are! Off you go, now. Be good. Make me proud.” She leaned across him and opened the door. She even went as far as to push him out. Draco gawked in surprise as she blew him a kiss.
Frantically Draco inquired, “Just how am I to go about doing that?” But Narcissa shut the door with a loud slam, and before he knew it, the limo had drove off, a bellow of dust the only sign that it had been there.
Draco sighed and looked at his watch. He waited impatiently for the dragon to dissolve into the background so he could read it, but it was being stubborn. Draco peered around to make sure no one was in seeing distance before he pulled his wand out and prodded it. The dragon let out a shrill snarl and moved behind the numbers.
Great. He was half an hour late. Usually he liked to make a grand entrance and would have taken full advantage of it but he didn’t care about muggles. Potter was the only other wizard and he didn’t care about making a grand impression around him either.
Draco walked in the school to be surprised by the rush of cold air. He’d felt muggle cooling devices before but it always surprised him. He didn’t like how it was so sudden instead of taking it slowly. He looked up and down the empty hallway. He didn’t know where the room was. Silently he cursed his mother for not finding information out for him.
Then he heard yelling from the hallway to the right and set down there. Wouldn’t it be funny if Potter had set the room on fire? In fact, if that was the case Draco might kiss him since he wouldn’t have to go to the classes.
Well, maybe not kiss him. That was a bit drastic. Perhaps he’d be nice to him for a week when they got back to school.
He reached for the door when it slammed open and hit him on the head. Draco scowled and rubbed at the tender sore.
“Oh! Gods, I’m sorry! I didn’t know anyone was - Malfoy?”
Draco smirked as he looked into the flabbergasted face of Harry Potter. It was almost worth it to be hit by a door just to see his face. Almost.
“Watch where you’re going, scarhead,” Draco seethed.
Potter jumped as if scalded - which was a rather big reaction to Draco’s small insult - and dashed across the hall. “Fire extinguisher!”
“What?” Draco asked in curiosity as he watched Potter pull a red container off the wall and struggled with it for a moment.
“I caught the kitchen on fire,” he explained. “Help me, would you?”
Draco gasped. “I’m not kissing you,” he said before he even knew he was speaking. Did he actually say that aloud?
Potter stopped struggling with the fire extinguisher for a moment. “Erm, that’s good, Malfoy. Because I wouldn’t want you to.” He stared at Draco, who stared right back. “At least open the door, would you?”
Grudgingly Draco held the door opened for him, the screams louder now. He leaned away as the brunette stumbled by, almost ramming into him. Draco shoved him with two fingers to nudge him into walking faster.
“Stop it, I don’t have a good grip on -” The rest of his sentence was droned out by the clattering of the fire extinguisher falling to the tile floor. Draco snorted behind Potter’s back.
“Smooth, Potter,” Draco said sarcastically, humor leaking into his voice.
Potter turned around and glowered at him. “I told you!”
But before Draco could say anything back, a large woman rushed over and picked up the fire extinguisher. She ran to a small fire that was slowly climbing up the wall and cabinet behind a stove, licking at the ceiling. Draco watching in fascination as she swept the nozzle back and forth along the base of the fire, white foam spewing forth. Magic was so much easer. And faster.
“Well, we really need to get a new one in this room” she said. The area was absolutely quiet except for two girls three kitchens over from the one that had caught fire. They were whispering wildly between each other.
“Sorry?” Weasley said after being prodded by Granger. Why was Draco surprised to find them there? If Potter was somewhere, they were. It was like a package, you get one you get all.
“No, no, Ron. It’s fine. You and Harry’ll just have to pay for the damage is all.” The Professor smiled in apology at them. Granger was looking suspiciously at Draco. Weasley appeared to have not seen him yet as he wasn‘t snarling. “The school will make you, not me. Accidents happen, I always say. Once I burnt down the kitchen at my restaurant. Quite funny except it cost a bundle to fix.” She laughed heartily though no one else did. Everyone seemed too shocked by the fire.
Draco took the time to look around. The mini kitchens were pitiful but he guessed okay…for muggles. Besides the two girls, who were still talking to each other, of whom Draco decided he didn’t like, were a group of two other girls, who had stayed in their kitchen. The one with dirty blonde hair and a mischievous grin looked as if she was going to laugh while the other (Japanese, Draco guessed) was covering her mouth. Leaning over the counter to see the damage and snicker was a skinny girl with the ends of her hair dyed pink. Behind her was the only bloke besides Potter and Weasley, and who was looking at Draco in curious interest.
The large lady glanced over at Potter and Draco, her face lighting up. “And you must be Draco! I talked to your mum on the phone yesterday. Welcome, welcome,” she bubbled, rushing over and shaking his hand. Potter raised his eyes questionably at him before he slipped away to Granger and Weasley. The latter was glaring at him in surprise. Draco nearly smiled.
Draco was silent as the Professor continued talking. “I’m Dolly Werner, call me Dolly. You’re a bit late aren’t you? Well, no matter.” She waved her hand absently when Draco started to explain. “Now this is Mary and April,” she said, pointing to the two girls, both of which stopped whispering to give him a little wave after each of their names were called.
“And that there is Keiko.” She barely nodded. “And in the same kitchen is -”
“Nashira Almeda,” she said, grinning at him. “The reason you’re here. Nice to meet you. My friend - your cousin, right? - has told me about you.”
Draco smiled slowly. He was tempted to say it wasn’t because of her that he was there but because he’d defied his father, but decided he didn’t want to get into it. “I can assure you nothing he has said is true,” he replied smoothly. David didn’t like him and therefore liked to make up stories about him.
Nashira’s grin widened. “Good, cause if they weren’t I would be slightly apprehensive to meet you.” Weasley snorted loudly and Draco watched with satisfaction as Granger nudged him, successfully making him fall silent.
“And the one who snorted is Ron and the other boy Harry, the now infamous fire starters,” Dolly spoke. They both flushed though neither stopped glaring. Draco sneered at them. “The girl beside them’s Hermione and beside their kitchen are Carmen and Oliver.”
Carmen looked over and gave him a tentative smile. Oliver’s smile slipped off but then he was walking over, and his smile was back on.
“Oliver Albright. Nice to see you here.” He held out his hand. That prompted Mary and April to converse quickly and quietly, shooting the pair of them funny looks. Draco looked down at Oliver’s hand then at his clothes. He had a smear of nutmeg on his cheek and his shirt had red, girly flowers twisting on it.
“Pleasure.” He didn’t take the hand.
“Let’s see. We’re making banana rice pudding. You can work with one of them since they have to restart theirs.” She pointed to Potter, Weasley, and Granger, all of whom looked upset to be split up. Or maybe because one of them has to work with Draco.
Dolly pulled the three friends out of their kitchen and pointed to two clean ones. “Take those two and have fun!” she called before she went over to Mary and April, who were having trouble boiling their food.
Draco swaggered over to the gryffindors. The three of them were having a whispered conversation about who would be stuck with Draco.
Weasley grabbed Granger’s hand and pouted at Potter, who sighed heavily and nodded his head. But then Granger made eye contact with Draco and said something that made Potter’s eyebrows rise and Weasley sputter. She walked into the kitchen beside her friends and beckoned Draco over. Draco, surprised that Granger had willingly agreed to work with him, hesitated before he walked over. Weasley shot him a suspicious look.
After a few minutes of being amused by watching Granger open her mouth to say something then shutting it and frowning, Draco became annoyed and snapped, “What?”
He smiled in satisfaction as she jumped. “Well, I’ve no idea why you’re here. Though,” She paused in putting ingredients in the pot to peer at him. “I’m guessing you’re not here by choice.”
“Damn bloody right.” He was still upset about that.
Granger winced but continued. “Look, you probably know all that happened at the ministry what with your father being there, and I know you don’t care about Harry, but please don’t say anything about that to him.” Draco stared disbelievingly at her while she looked over at Potter. “Especially not Sirius. Please? I’m asking nicely.”
“I don’t see why I should. There’s nothing in it for me,” he drawled, looking over at Potter talking to Weasley, scathing remarks that were sure to get under his skin already coming to mind.
“You’ll pay for it.”
Draco smirked. “What could you, a Mudblood, do to me?”
“Remember when I punched you back in third year? I’ve been itching to do that again.” She tossed the banana slices in the pot and stirred it with a large wooden spoon. Draco scowled at her but kept quiet.
~~~
“Do you think she fancies him?” Ron said in a voice pitted low enough for only Harry to hear.
“Who?” Harry asked as he pulled out the ingredients, handing the banana to Ron to slice.
“Hermione!” He slammed the knife into the banana harden then was necessary. Harry winced.
“Fancy who? You? You are dating now.”
Ron scowled and pointed at Hermione and Malfoy. She said something that made his face pale even more than it was normally. Harry cheered for her in his head.
“Hermione fancy Malfoy. Are you kidding, Ron? Have you gone around the bend?” Harry stared in amazement at Ron, who had taken to scowling at Harry now. “No one in their right mind would fancy Malfoy.”
Ron dumped the wonkily chopped banana slices into the pot and turned the stove on. “Didn’t Parkinson date him? Girls must see something in that ferret. What if Hermione sees it?”
“Like I said, no one in their right mind would fancy Malfoy.” He must have said that louder than intended for Malfoy glanced across the counter separating their kitchens and said, “Is that so?”
“Yeah, it is,” Harry answered stiffly.
“Maybe it is, but no one with a mind would fancy you.” Malfoy smiled cheerily and turned back to his and Hermione’s rice pudding. Harry caught Hermione’s eye roll. He didn’t understand what Ron was worried about. It was obvious Hermione had no positive feelings for Malfoy, and she could very well handle herself.
By the end of the class, Ron was still ranting about his girlfriend liking Malfoy and Harry had taken to trying to convince him that she didn’t. But mostly he was trying to convince Ron he needn’t bring it up to Hermione. Harry had enjoyed them not arguing after they’d gotten together yesterday thru to today and didn’t want to see it gone.
“Look Ron, Hermione doesn’t like Malfoy at all and…don’t mention that you think she does,” he whispered into Ron’s ear as they tried their banana rice pudding that looked much more like liquid than everyone else’s. “Ugh! This is nasty.” He looked over the counter at Hermione and Malfoy’s. Theirs was chunky. “And gloopy.”
Malfoy leaned over to peer at their food. He laughed before taking a bite of his and moaning in pleasure. Harry glared at him, his eyes drawn to the small glob of rice pudding on Malfoy’s lip. His tongue peaked out and swiped the stray bit away.
Rice pudding! Harry stared at their food. The -
“I think I forgot to add the rice,” Ron grumbled, pushing his bowl away. He had been the one in charge of tossing the ingredients in the pot.
Sure enough, the rice was still in the measuring cup sitting forgotten on the counter.
~~~
Ron had managed to not utter anything about his speculation of Hermione and Malfoy for the entire walk home, though it was obvious he was itching to say something because his feet shifted awkwardly, his eyes darted everywhere, and he kept opening and closing his mouth. Once they reached the door to the Burrow Harry thought Ron wasn’t going to say anything at all. But Harry had thought too soon.
“What’s with you and Malfoy?” he blurted, his voice hard.
Hermione stared at him then looked to Harry, who passed a hand over his face and leaned against the doorway.
“What do you mean?” she asked calmly. Harry was surprised she didn’t have a trace of anger in her voice. He would have bit something back if someone had used that tone on him.
“You wanted to work with Malfoy. Harry had agreed he would and then you went ‘no, I am.’ And then you were whispering to him!” Ron stomped his foot on the ground, his eyes flashing.
Hermione shook her head in irritation. “I was telling him something. I’m sure you’re familiar with the process, Ronald. You and Harry whisper together. Does that mean you two have something going on? Huh?”
Harry frowned. He hated being brought into their arguments.
Ron flustered around for words before he said, “That’s different. Harry and I are friends. And we’re both blokes. You’re not a bloke -”
“Well spotted,” she cut in acidly.
“That’s - I meant - Err!”
The door opened, almost hitting Harry, but he jumped away in time. It reminded him of when he opened the door in Malfoy’s face. He had been so worried about the fire that he never took the time to be satisfied about that. Harry grinned, remembering Malfoy’s face and him rubbing his head. He had opened the door rather hard. Then he remembered Malfoy’s strange kissing comment. That was weird.
“What were you grinning about?” Ginny asked as she surveyed the arguing Ron and Hermione with him. “Surely not these two. If so, you need some help. They’re bloody annoying.”
“Hey!” Ron shouted at her as she had directed the last sentence to them. Hermione looked in hurt at her.
“Well, you are.” She turned to Harry. “Now what are they arguing about?”
Harry went to speak when Ron and Hermione walked between them and into the house, not once pausing in their tirade.
“Did she say something about Malfoy? What’s he got to do with it?” Ginny sat on the step, Harry followed.
“Malfoy’s in the cooking class,” he grumbled. Ginny gasped. Harry nodded. “I opened the door into his head,” Harry said proudly.
“Wait, wait, wait. Why’s Malfoy in a muggle cooking class?”
Harry frowned. “Good question. This Nashira girl said something about it being her fault.”
“Maybe he got in trouble and that was his punishment.” Ginny paused. “So what’s he got to do with Ron and Hermione?”
“Hermione went and worked with him, and now Ron thinks she fancies him.” Ginny scoffed. “I know.”
Ginny shook her head in disgust. “I swear I’m not related to him. He’s so clueless. And stupid.” Harry said nothing out of loyalty to his friend.
“Oh! Ron and I started a fire.” Ginny perked up. “I forgot to turn the burner off and Ron tossed a rag over there. Well, it landed on it and we didn’t know till there was a fire.” Ginny laughed appreciably.
Five minutes later the yelling in the house quieted down. Harry hoped they were still on talking basis. He looked over at Ginny. Ginny was trustworthy. She wouldn’t tell anyone, though Harry wasn’t sure why he didn’t want anyone to know. But it was bothering him; he couldn’t figure out why Malfoy had said that.
“After I hit him with the door and told him about the fire, Malfoy said something…odd,” Harry started tentatively.
Ginny looked over at him, her features softened. “Oh, Harry. Don’t mind what Malfoy says. He’s a jerk and nothing he says is even worth listening to. He probably even -”
“He said he wasn’t going to kiss me,” Harry blurted to cut Ginny’s sure to be ramble off.
Ginny blinked. “Oh.” She blinked again and rubbed her knee. “Why’d you ask him to kiss you?”
Harry gaped, too lost for words. “I - he - What? I didn’t ask him to kiss me. Why would you even think that? Why would I even say that?”
“Oh,” Ginny sighed, relieved. “Then why’d he say it?”
“That’s what makes it odd.” Harry stared off into the darkening sky, pondering. It looked like it was going to storm soon. The Weasleys’ chickens were all flocking into their coop and there was no wind.
“And if you knew why, it wouldn’t be weird?” Her eyes lighted up and she let out a bark of laughter. “Hey! Maybe he wants to kiss you and was trying to convince himself he didn’t!”
She almost fell off the step in laughter. Harry watched her clutch her stomach and slouch forward, but he didn’t think it was very funny. It was just…weird.
~~~
When the mini limo picked Draco up after cooking class the only person in it was the anonymous driver. When he got home one of the house elves told him his parents were at a cocktail party and wouldn’t be home until late that evening. Since Draco had no one to complain to he sent Pansy an owl telling her to floo over. He then spent the next hour complaining and the last hour listening to Pansy talk about every fascinating thing she’s done over the summer before he couldn’t take her happy stories anymore and made her leave, saying he had a headache. Of course, then it took half an hour to reassure her that he was fine and she could leave.
Late that evening he heard his parents coming home. Their slightly intoxicated speech traveled up the stairs and through the crack under his door. Blearily, he listened to them until their voices lulled him to sleep.
“Draco…Draco, darling are you up?” a voice floated through Draco’s sleep-fuddled mind. Draco rolled over in his bed and cracked an eye open.
“Hmm, wha’?” Draco mumbled.
“How was the class?” Narcissa asked, stroking his hair and sitting on the edge of his bed.
“Ugg,” he said groggily. “I got hit in the face by a door and told that no one in their ‘right mind’ would fancy me. And I had to work with Mudblood.” Talking had woken him up and he sat, watching his mother down a small glass bottle of purple hangover potion.
“Aww, darling. Should have figured his friends would be there. So,” she stopped to hiccup, “who did the other stuff?”
“Potter,” Draco grumbled, flopping ungracefully back into a laying position. Now that Draco had the chance to complain he was too tired to. And Narcissa reeked of alcohol.
Narcissa sighed and clumsily patted his knee. She squeezed it and said, “You don’t want to be a Death Eater, do you?”
Draco gaped. “I never said that! I just said I was doing some thinking.”
Narcissa waved her hand absently. “Yes, well, this could come in handy.” At Draco’s raised eyebrows, she leaned forward and whispered into his ear, “It’s Harry Potter. He has the Order on his side. Get in with him and you’ll have protection.” She sat straight and gazed thoughtfully at him. “Or you could just try to brave it on your own. That wouldn’t last long though.”
“So, you’re saying you wouldn’t let me live here if I decided not to?” He waved at the air in front of him, trying to rid of Narcissa’s breath.
“Your father wouldn’t allow it.” She stood and walked to the door. “Just think about it.”
“Mother,” Draco started, stopping her at the half open door. “How long till the hangover potion kicks in?”
“Darling, it’s a hangover potion. It doesn’t get rid of the tipsiness.” She chuckled and shut the door. Draco listened to her uneven footsteps fading down the hall. He fluffed up his pillow and laid on his side. There was no way he would ask Potter for help. His mother really was pissed. And beside, he hadn’t decided either way.
Part Two
Rating: PG13
Length: 9820 words, part 1 of 4
Genre: Romance/Humor/Drama
Pairings: Harry/Draco and minor Ron/Hermione
Summary: Harry, Ron, and Hermione take cooking classes over the summer after fifth year. Draco starts thinking for himself, which doesn‘t go over well. Cooking, fire, loos, kisses, betrayal, and secrets.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, quotes, or even idea. : ( But my words!
Note: Written for hump_day101 using the prompt ‘I think I forgot’ (fluff), and _hpchallenge with the word ‘banana.’ The idea of the trio taking cooking classes to get away from things is credited to Remus's Nymph.
All Parts
Kiss the Cook
~ Mothers, food, love, and career, the four major guilt groups. -Cathy Guisewite
~ One cannot refuse to eat just because there is a chance of being choked. -Chinese Proverb
Sunday August 4, 1996
“Harry, Ron! Could you tear yourselves away from the chessboard for two minutes? I understand how hard it is, but I’ve something to say,” Hermione said again, this time mixing a bit of niceness into her sarcastic tone. The two boys simply nodded her way.
“I’m winning here, Hermione. Wait till the game’s over.” Ron commanded his rook to move, and beamed gleefully when it smashed Harry’s last bishop and carried it off the board. Harry sighed heavily, looking sadly at his few remaining pieces. He had absolutely no talent for chess; he couldn’t plan moves out like Ron could.
“Harry,” she huffed, turning to only face her shorter friend. “Ron always wins. Take some time away from losing for me, please?”
Harry held up a lone finger and quickly moved his pawn, mistakenly, into a spot for Ron’s pawn to take. He looked up at Hermione, ignoring Ron’s crackling laughing across him.
“Look,” her voice was less harsh now that she’d received attention. She handed a flyer to Harry, who glanced at it then at Hermione skeptically. The heading said ‘Cooking with Bananas’ “Read it, read it,” she encouraged.
Harry looked at it in doubt. It read:
Cooking with Bananas
Have a flair for cooking? Want to simply try it out? Need something to do this summer?
Then join Cooking with Bananas, a new cooking class that uses bananas in every recipe.
When: August 5th to August 13th, Monday thru Friday.
How long: Each class is two hours and will consist of making food and eating it.
Where: Clipton High School, the Culinary room. 53 Drafty Lane, Clipton
Cost: 16 pounds
Sign up: at 020 3579336 and ask for Dolly Werner.
Harry snorted and passed it wordlessly to Ron, who was paying attention now that Harry wasn‘t playing the game. Harry waited until Ron set the flyer on the chessboard before looking into Hermione’s hopeful face.
“Cooking?” Ron scoffed. “Don’t tell me you want us to go to a cooking class?” At Hermione’s nod, he whined, “But I don’t like cooking. I suck at it, and cooking’s for girls.”
Hermione glared at him. Harry reached his foot around the game and kicked Ron’s leg. He shouldn’t have said cooking was for girls, Hermione appeared enormously riffled by it. She had a wild look in her eyes as she announced smugly, “I already spoke to your Mum and she loves the idea. So you’re going whether you like it or not.”
Ron gaped angrily at her, and then fled out the room and down the stairs.
Hermione smiled sweetly at Harry, who rolled his eyes, knowing that if Ron were being forced to attend Harry would have to. There was no way Ron would let Harry stay at the Burrow while he sat in some school kitchen burning banana-filled foods.
They both turned to the door as angry voices filled the house. Ron must have found Mrs. Weasley, and they were having a shouting match.
“I guess I’ll have to if Ron goes,” Harry sighed.
Hermione appeared to be debating something as she shifted her feet and bit her lip. Finally, she crossed the room and sat on the floor beside Harry. She patted his knee, and Harry’s eyebrows shot up. What was she going to say that warranted a comforting pat? Harry stiffened, hoping it wasn’t about Sirius and the Ministry of Magic incident only a few meager months ago. Harry had decided to push the matter as far from his mind as he could. Thinking about it brought too many unwanted emotions.
“None of us can make you go,” she said. Harry held his breath as she took a deep breath. “I want to do this to get our minds - all of ours - off what happened at the Ministry. I know you don’t want to talk about it Harry but -”
“Then don’t,” Harry said more sharply then he had intended.
Hermione pulled away slightly. “Fine, I won’t. Just think about it, coming that is. I think it will do us all good. Ginny’s coming too, so it’ll be all four of us.”
Harry stared into the encouraging visage of his friend and felt himself giving in. It was only cooking after all. And maybe if he went it would stop Hermione’s attempts to talk about Sirius. “I’ll go if Ron has too,” he said, feeling a smile tug at his lips upon seeing Hermione’s joy.
“Great! It’ll be so much fun.” She suddenly became serious and looked down at him from where she had jumped up. “And I think it’ll be good.”
Luckily, Ron stormed into the room before Hermione decided to continue. Harry grinned at him but Ron only scowled in return.
“Mum’s making me,” he announced in distaste. “Said if I complain any more I’ll get grounded too.” Ron puzzled both of them by perking up at the last word. “Gin’s grounded!” He waved absently at Hermione’s reproachful look. “No, she was having an attitude with Mum about de-gnoming and had broken Mum’s favorite vase.” He burst into loud raucous laughter, which stopped abruptly after Ginny walked up behind him and whacked him upside the head.
“Shut it, prat. I’ll have you know I’m not grounded.” She smirked at Ron. “Mum gave me a choice.” She turned to Hermione and smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry, Hermione. I know you really wanted all of us to go to that cooking thing, but I can’t now.”
“Why?” Harry couldn’t help but ask. Now it would be uneven. What if they had to work in partners and Harry was stuck with someone unpleasant.
“I had a choice of not going to it or being grounded for two weeks. Mum’s really wired up and taking everything to extremes,” she explained because of Harry and Hermione’s surprised faces. “I didn’t want grounded since I told Luna I’d stay at her house for a few days. Well…she doesn’t have many people over.” She grinned awkwardly.
“That’s okay, Ginny. At least you wanted to go and made an effort to,” Hermione said, sending a glare in Ron’s direction. Ron, for his part, shrugged and looked at Harry, his eyes lighting up.
“That’s too bad,” Harry said to Ginny, hoping to avoid Hermione raving at Ron. “It would have been nice if you could come.” Ginny smiled widely at him but Ron said, “You‘re going, right Harry?” before Ginny could open her mouth.
“Well, I don’t know,” Harry started, hoping to make Ron squirm. “It’s cooking.”
Ron’s mouth opened in shock. Hermione hid her smile behind her hand and whispered to Ginny, who smiled humorously at Harry.
“But - but, we always do stuff together. And I don’t want to go either but - come on! I’ll - I’ll let you win at chess!” He smiled triumphantly then frowned once he realized what he’d offered.
Harry laughed. “Fine. If I can win chess.” He wondered how hard it was for Ron to offer that and if he would actually go through with it.
Ron sulked and sat down in front of the chessboard. Ginny was bent over, barking in laughter and Hermione winked at Harry.
“So, when was the last time you lost, Ron?” Harry questioned, rubbing his hands together.
“It’s not like it really counts. I mean, I’m letting you win,” Ron said bitterly.
“Still means you lose,” Ginny said, slapping Ron on the back before she walked to the door with Hermione at her heels.
“When do we sign up for it?” Harry asked, stopping Hermione in the doorway.
“I already did,” was all she said before she followed Ginny down the stairs. Harry and Ron looked at each other.
“How’d you know we would go?” Ron yelled, but she didn’t answer.
~~~
Draco sat primly, spooning small bits of elf-made food into his mouth, and listening to his parents plan his wedding. Which wouldn’t happen for years though that didn’t stop Narcissa from bringing it up at least once a week and speaking fondly about how lovely Draco’s future bride is getting and how delightful the wedding will be.
Draco usually got through these talks by gritting his teeth and chanting inside his head ‘you won’t have to marry anyone because once you’re of age they can’t do anything about it…’
“I was talking to Clare the other day and she showed me a recent picture of Pansy. Her new haircut fits her. She is turning into quite the gorgeous young woman, is she not, Draco?” Narcissa smiled serenely at him. Lucius rolled his eyes good-naturally.
Draco nodded and stabbed his pork harsher than usual. He took a long time chewing as to evade talking.
“You are still dating her, right?” Lucius asked. Draco suspected he had detected his sour mood.
Draco set his fork on his plate unhurriedly and tried to control himself. He was sick of this, of being told what to do and being expected of so many things he didn’t want. “I haven’t dated her since fourth year,” Draco spat before he could stop himself.
Narcissa’s eyes widened in alarm while Lucius’ narrowed.
“Why not?” he asked dangerously.
Narcissa frowned in concern. “I thought you liked Pansy. You wanted to marry her. That’s why we had arranged the marriage -”
“Mother!” Draco snapped, his fingers curling around the edge of the table. “I wanted to marry her when I was nine. When she was one of the few people I talked to.” Narcissa looked hurt so Draco continued softly, feeling guilty about bursting at his mother when it was his father that was pressuring him.
“I do like Pansy,” Draco started, sliding his hands off the table to curl into fists below it. “Just not like that. We are friends and nothing more.”
Narcissa took a large sip of wine. Lucius, on the other hand, was not subdued. He glared down the table at Draco and said, “You will learn to like her. The Parkinson’s are a good family to marry into, and we’ve already set it all up. You will marry the girl.”
“Maybe I don’t want to take part in some things this family does.” Draco sat back in his chair, his eyes straying to Lucius’ left forearm. As of lately, Draco had been thinking about what he wanted to do with his future. One thing he didn’t want was being put in Azkaban because he followed some homicidal man who couldn’t overcome a child.
“I take it you’re not only talking about the marriage.” Lucius’ voice was carefully measured and gave nothing away. Draco felt chilled at the sound of it.
“I’ve been doing some thinking,” Draco replied shortly, picking his fork back up.
“Draco, when I am talking to you, you do not start eating as a way of avoiding it. You brought it up so you must want to talk about it.”
Draco placed his fork back on the plate and glanced at Narcissa, whose eyes were wide and bouncing between them as they spoke. She would be no help.
“Tell me. Why don’t you want to serve our master?” Narcissa let out a stifled gasp at Lucius’ irate words. Draco refrained from looking at her.
He straightened and looked his father in the eye. “I never said that.”
“But it’s what you were implying.”
Draco took a deep breath and stared at the edge of a picture frame behind Lucius’ right shoulder. There was no way he would be able to look at him and say what he was about to, but he couldn’t simply turn away either.
“I’m undecided. I’ve seen what he’s done to you, to his followers. He didn’t even try getting you out of Azkaban. We had to bail you out and Mother had to pull a lot of strings. She groveled. And besides, the Dark Lord couldn’t even finish off a baby. The other times he hadn’t been able to either. I don’t want to go onto a losing side,” Draco finished, his voice weak in the last sentence as he had looked at Lucius’ murderous face. There was so much more he wanted to say but bravery was never one of Draco’s strong aspects.
Lucius stiffened and stared at the doorway, collecting himself. Draco looked at his mother to find her oddly flushed. He guessed he shouldn’t have mentioned her groveling but it was true. And Malfoy’s didn’t grovel.
Narcissa held Draco’s gaze. Was it his imagination or did she look hopeful?
“It’s not for you to decide,” Lucius said, turning his head to Draco.
Draco opened his mouth to protest when Narcissa’s tentative voice spoke, surprising both of the male Malfoys. Death Eater discussion was strictly kept between the two of them, Narcissa had never interrupted before.
“Let the boy have his own opinions, Lucius. He’ll never be his own man if you force your views on him.” She avoided their eyes by drinking more of the wine. Draco wondered if she’d had too much wine.
“Narcissa…” Lucius warned
“No,” she said, placing the expertly-designed cup down gently. “Draco has made some valid points and if you want him to agree with you, you should talk them out with him. In a nice, non-threatening manner.”
Lucius switched his cold eyes from Narcissa to Draco, as if blaming him for having Narcissa on his side.
“Are you saying you want our only son to defy our master and run off carousing with the Order?”
Draco resented that. He opened his mouth to say that just because he might not want to be a Death Eater didn’t mean he wanted to join the equally as insane other side, but Narcissa cut him off again.
“No, Lucius. Calm down.” For he was seething up a sight. “Would you like to talk about this in private?”
Lucius glanced over at Draco before he nodded and stood, leading the way out of the dinning room. Apparently he didn’t want to reveal to Draco how little control he had over his wife. Narcissa stood and gave Draco an encouraging nod before she followed Lucius out of the room. Draco only wished he knew what Narcissa was encouraging.
Monday August 5, 1996
Harry was, suffice to say, slightly excited about going to the cooking class. It wasn’t that he wanted to cook, he just wanted to get out of the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley was so stressed that she snapped at everyone and constantly warned them about everything. Harry didn’t blame her though. She did have a large family to worry about, and they weren’t all in the same place. With Mr. Weasley always at work, Fred and George living at their shop, Charlie in Romania, Bill at Gringotts, and Percy not speaking, she only had two of her family members around.
She was constantly fretting and annoying the four living with her. They didn’t tell her, though Ginny and Mrs. Weasley had been having much more arguments than other summers Harry had been there, and Ron had taken to making Harry peep around the corners to make sure his mum wasn’t there. Hermione thought it was all ridiculous and they should try to comfort Mrs. Weasley, that is until she snapped at Hermione.
Harry suspected Ron was also glad to be getting out of the house. Ginny was envious about them leaving her behind with Mrs. Weasley if her longing stare at them till they walked out of sight said anything.
“How much longer?” Ron whined as they reached the outskirts of the muggle town nearby. Mrs. Weasley had offered to take them there but with no car, she quickly declined.
“Ron, we’ve barely been walking for twenty minutes.” She sighed heavily but swiped at her brow. It was extremely hot. Ron had started out walking barefoot because he couldn’t be bothered to put sweat-inducing shoes on, but the pavement burnt his feet so he had to wear them. Harry’s feet, on the other hand, could handle heat and he was enjoying walking barefoot, except for when he stepped on the sharp little rocks.
“How you play Quidditch but can’t take a half hour walk…” Hermione mumbled.
Ron was about to snap something back when Harry spotted a large school down the street. “I see it! That’s it, right?” he asked eagerly. He hoped they had air condition.
Hermione pointed to the sign in front of it, barely legible from where they were, and nodded. Harry himself couldn’t read it. He suspected that perhaps he needed a new prescription. But Ron was squinting at it too so maybe Hermione just had excellent eyesight from reading all those books.
Eventually they reached the school, where Ron found enough energy to run up the stairs and into it. Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered something that sounded like “stupid boy only works when he wants something.”
They read the paper posted on the door that told the cooking class that the culinary room was down the right, last door on the left. Harry shoved his shoes on, feet feeling weird with no socks, and trudged after Hermione.
They both sighed as the cool air fell over them, making them gasp at first from the drastic difference. Ron was standing in the middle of the dull hallway surrounded by blue lockers and grinning stupidly.
“This is great,” Ron said, waving his arm vaguely around. Harry assumed he was talking about the air condition.
Hermione raised her eyebrows at him. “Wizards have cooling charms.”
“Yes, but they’re more subtle, not like walking into an ice box.” Ron took a deep breath and twirled in a circle, with that stupid grin that appeared to be permanently attached to him. “So, how are we to know where to go?”
“Last door on the left, down the right hallway,” Hermione answered promptly then set off down said hallway. Ron gapped at Harry, who decided to let him think Hermione knew everything.
“Come on, Ron.” Harry grabbed his arm and pulled him along. They were already late because of Ron and him dragging their feet the whole time.
Hermione waited at the door for them, so they could all walk in together, she said. But Harry thought she just didn’t want to walk into a class late without Harry and Ron beside her to blame.
Sure enough, the moment they walked in Hermione smiled in apology at the Professor and said, “I’m sorry. Those two just wouldn’t walk.”
Ron nudged Harry in the ribs and stuck his tongue out at Hermione’s back. Harry was busy looking around and so didn’t share in Ron’s humor. The inside of the culinary room was much nicer than the hallways. There were ten mini kitchens equipped with appliances like a stove, fridge, microwave, and toaster. The mini kitchens were separated and closed in by counters and shelves that ran around the borders, making each kitchen seem like a closet that had the top half of the wall chopped off.
“That’s okay, Hon. We started late anyway. Everyone seems to move slower the hotter the weather gets,” a large woman with red cheeks, beady eyes, and warm smile said. She was sitting in the center of the room on a child-sized plastic chair. Around her were five girls and one boy, all sitting on chairs like the Professor’s in varying colors.
“Take a seat, take a seat,” she said, her voice bubbly as she looked around at the children gathered before her. Hermione smiled widely and took the nearest purple chair. Harry and Ron sat on either side of her.
Hermione elbowed the both of them, looking at the Professor, and smiled. “She seems nice.” Ron nodded along with Harry.
“Now, that makes…” the Professor counted everyone by pointing at them. “Nine! We’re missing someone. Well, we’ll figure out who when we take roll.”
“Excuse me,” Hermione said, raising her hand. “But that would be Ginny Weasley. She’s unable to come at all.”
“Aww, well that’s too bad.” She clapped her hands together. “But life happens and we must move on. I want to get to know all of you so please state your name and why you’re here.”
She pointed to a Japanese girl who declared herself as Keiko Jong. When she spoke she tipped her head forward so her short black hair fell into her eyes. “I just moved here and was hoping to meet people.”
A skinny girl with a sharp face and the ends of her hair dyed pink snorted rudely. The Professor smiled broadly at Keiko and exclaimed loudly, “Great! A new person. How long ago did you move here?”
Keiko’s face turned bright red as she mumbled, “A week ago.” Harry figured she was extremely shy.
“And where from?”
“Japan.” She was bent over so far her chin threatened to bump into her knee. The boy beside her tapped her arm and smiled.
“That’s cool. Welcome to Britain. I’m Oliver Albright and I’m here because I hope to be a chef someday.” The Professor practically moaned in delight. Ron reached over Hermione to poke Harry.
“He’s a ponce,” Ron whispered, talking about his pink and yellow striped shirt and how he moved his hands avidly when he spoke. The girl on the other side of Ron, with the pink-ended hair and harsh face, laughed loudly. Hermione shoved Ron back in his seat and gave him a look.
The Professor told Oliver to see her after class about some information in pursuing that career. She nodded at the pink-haired girl, who looked at Oliver skeptically before she said, “Carmen Russel. Here because my parents thought it would do me good. You’re turn,” she added to Ron.
Ron blinked. “I’m Ron Weasley. I’m here - er - because she and my mum made me,” he said, pointing at Hermione. The class laughed as Hermione gave him a withering look.
“At least he’s truthful,” the Professor said with a deep laugh. Harry was so surprised to hear such a deep sound resounding out of her body that he missed Hermione’s introduction and didn’t realize it was his turn until Hermione’s nails dug into his side.
“Oh! Erm, I’m here because…I’m Harry Potter. Erm, this gets me out of Ron’s house.” Hermione rolled her eyes and Ron pretended to be hurt. Harry loved the fact that no one looked in recognition at him.
“What’s wrong with my house, Harry? Do I bore you that much? Sick of losing to me at chess?” Ron asked, pouting a bit for good measure. The two girls on Harry’s left giggled.
“You play chess?” the blond one in pigtails asked. She had a big mouth and seemed to enjoy moving it a lot to speak. “I’m good at that. Once I was pitted against the school chess team and it was my first time ever playing. I hardly knew the rules and all, but I beat every last one of them!”
The girl beside her shook her head wildly. Ron grinned unsurely at her.
“That’s not what your friend there says,” the pink Carmen said, smiling nastily at Pigtail’s friend. “I bet you never even played it.”
“She did!” Pigtail’s friend piped, pressed into defending by her friend’s hurt look. “Just, she only won against the blind kid.” She smiled at Pigtails. “But it was an epic win, April, really. You were spectacular.”
April smiled and touched her friend’s arm, encouraging more out of her when the Professor spoke up with, “And who are you, our chess player?”
“I’m April Bacon and this here is Mary Beecher. We’re here so we don’t have to baby-sit my annoying little brother.” She looked at Harry and Ron. “And to meet cute guys.”
Harry decided they reminded him of Parvati and Lavender. Hermione was looking at them with narrowed eyes.
“And I’m Nashira Almeda. My name is a star in the constellation of Capricornus. I’m here because I have nothing better to do.” She brushed her thin dirty-blonde hair over her shoulder and smiled at the Professor. “And I’m interested to see how many different foods you can make out of bananas.”
The Professor smiled and clapped her hands together. Harry and Ron looked at each other over Hermione, who muttered, “Suck up.” That only made them laugh seeing as who had said that.
“Now that we know who all our splendid people are, I’ll introduce myself. I’m Dolly Werner. I want all of you to call me Dolly. Not any of that Professor Werner, Madam stuff.” She smiled. “I learned the culinary arts abroad in America. Along with owning a restaurant, I decided to teach classes during the summer because I love kids. Though, I guess you wouldn’t like to be called kids, eh?” she said to the class, where the majority was scrunching their noses. “Love to teach teens. That better?”
She carried on talking about bananas and why she choose them of all foods for the theme. Hermione sat attentively. Harry was interested at first. Who knew bananas where good for all that stuff? They are one of the quickest ways to cure hangovers, except for magic, can get rid of warts and bug bites, and help people giving up smoking, along with many other things that Harry tuned out to, instead, study everyone’s shoes.
“Now, there is no cooking today as this took up most of our two hours, but you get to sample a Banana cream pie I made this morning, so come up, gather around.”
The word food woke Harry from his daydream and sent Ron leaping to the counter. Oliver was the first one there and was cutting pieces off and handing them to everyone.
“Thanks,” Harry said while Ron scowled.
“I could have gotten my own,” he mumbled to Harry. Hermione swatted him on the arm.
Everyone retook their seats to eat the banana cream pie. It was smooth and delicious. Even Ron was slightly excited about attending the next day, if only to eat food.
~~~
Last evening his parents hadn’t returned so Draco retired to his room. He’d spent most of the next day in there too, not wanting to get into an argument with Lucius. Eventually he became hungry and set off down the curving staircase. His mother forbade eating anywhere in the manor besides the kitchen and dining rooms.
A knock sounded from the door when Draco reached the bottom of the stairs. He watched curiously as one of their house elves appeared at the door and opened it to a beefy man with sallow skin. Draco recognized him as one of Lucius’ cousins.
“Why Draco, where might I find your father?” he asked in a gruff voice.
Draco silently pointed at the house elf holding her hands out for the man’s hat. Draco left with the elf’s squeaky voice in his ears.
“Follow me, Sir. Follow Hoksy, Sir. She show you to Master.”
Draco wondered if he could find a spell to change house elves’ voices for the better. He sat at the kitchen island and ordered another house elf for eggs and bacon.
When he finished eating, the kitchen door opened and Lucius walked in, his cousin at his heels. Narcissa trailed behind them. Lucius and Draco stared at each other, neither one looking away or talking.
Finally Lucius said, “Tristen was telling me about his son’s friend that is attending a cooking class.”
That was so far away from what Draco expected him to say that he could only blink and peer at all the faces in the room. Narcissa looked just as surprised as he felt.
“He also tells me,” Lucius continued, “that Harry Potter is in the class.”
Potter in a cooking class? Draco almost snorted with laughter. He could just see Potter cooking stroganoff and burning the whole kitchen to a crisp.
But, wait…why were they telling him this?
“Are you saying you want me to -”
“Take the class, yes,” Lucius finished.
Draco’s mouth fell open and he looked at Narcissa, hoping for her to come to his rescue like the other day, but she only smiled and nodded. Lucius must have talked her into siding with him.
“No way. I refuse to take some stuffy cooking class.” Draco stomped his foot on the ground in one quick jab. He wasn’t going to stand for everything they threw at him. And this - this was just insane.
“You don’t get to choose, Draco,” Lucius said coldly. His cousin smirked. “This is your punishment for your disobedience yesterday. Your task is to gather any information you can on Potter and to do more of that thinking about things you seem to like. You will see our way and come back. Though, if you don’t have anything to offer us we might not let it slide so easily.”
He stalked out the door. Tristen raised his eyebrows at Draco and said, “My son doesn’t give me any troubles like that. Maybe you need to be stricter.” Narcissa waved him off with a sour look on her face.
“That man. I’ve never like him. As impolite as they come. Doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.” She looked at Draco and sighed heavily. “Draco, I know you don’t want to go, but your father is very set on it, it appears. Who knows, maybe it’ll do some good.” She gave him a look that Draco didn’t understand.
“But I don’t want to go!”
“Draco,” she said sternly, stopping him from objecting any longer. “Be a good son.” She stroked his hair fondly then left.
Draco glowered at the shutting door. He took his anger out by yelling at the house elf for making awful food.
~~~
Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked in the Burrow, almost bumping into Mrs. Weasley, who was standing right at the door.
“You’re all okay?” she asked, reaching out and brushing Ron’s bangs out of his face.
“Yes, Mum,” Ron sighed, moving out of her hands but less harshly than he had been lately. “It’s good. Nothing weird happened. No one attacked us, and we ate some scrumptious banana cream pie.”
Hermione smiled and patted Mrs. Weasley on the arm. She grinned softly at the three of them then darted off to the kitchen to make supper.
“Mum’s losing it,” Ron whispered. Hermione shoved him at the steps and whispered harshly, “Don’t speak about your mother like that.”
“But it’s true,” Ron moaned, stopping at the landing to bang on Ginny’s door. “We’re back,” he called at Ginny’s inquiring of whom it was.
The door flung open to reveal an angry looking Ginny, her red hair falling around her face. “Good!” She grabbed Ron’s arm and tugged him in. Harry and Hermione followed. “Mum’s gone crazy! She sent me to my room just because I wanted to go down and walk with you lot here.”
“Oh, I imagine she thought it would be unsafe,” Hermione said sympathetically. “I mean, before I got her to agree that it was a good thing for Ron to go, I had to convince her by saying we’d carry our wands with, and Harry or I would send out a patronus to her if we got attacked.”
“You had to convince her?” Ron frowned at Hermione. “She didn’t even want me to go in the first place? I could have not went!”
“I’d gladly trade places with you,” Ginny said wistfully. “How was it? What’d you do?”
“It was okay. She mainly talked forever about bananas. Banana this, banana that,” Ron mocked. Ginny looked pointedly at Harry and Hermione.
“It’s true,” Harry supplied.
Hermione shook her head wearily. “It was very fascinating. Did you know bananas can help get rid of warts?”
Ginny grimaced. “No offense, but that’s icky. And don’t lecture me about bananas!” For Hermione had opened her mouth, an intellectual gleam in her eyes. Ron laughed when she snapped her mouth shut with a short glare.
“I wasn’t going to,” she said unpersuasively.
“Uh-huh. So what else did you do?”
“We played a get-to-know-everyone game,” Harry said. Ginny looked in interest at him so he explained, “The first person named a food and the next person repeated it and said one of their own, and so forth…Actually,” He turned to Ron and Hermione. “How’d that get us to know each other?”
“I don’t know,” Ron said. Hermione agreed. “But she had the best banana cream pie! It’s to die for.” Ron quieted and swayed with a look of ecstasy on his face. Hermione tried to conceal a grin as she watched him.
“That good, eh?” Ginny asked, leaning forward and poking him out of his daydream.
“It was good,” Hermione said.
“Oh! What about the people there?” Ginny looked at Hermione and winked. “Any cute guys?”
Ron frowned. “There was only one other bloke besides us, and he’s as gay as a bendy straw.”
“I like those,” Harry mussed. “No! Those one that are all circular and curly, those are neat.”
Ron laughed. Hermione and Ginny shook their heads at them.
“Well, was he cute?” Ginny insisted, prompting Hermione with a large grin.
A blush coated Hermione’s nose. The smile slipped off Ron’s face like stinksap. “I guess he’s not bad to look at.” Ginny collapsed into a fit of giggles and Hermione’s smile widened. “He has these beautiful, striking blue eyes. Kind of like Ron’s but more vibrant.”
Ginny groaned. “Eww, well that just ruined it for me. Now he just looks like Ron in my head. Thanks a lot, Hermione.” She laughed at Ginny’s reaction, which cut off short at Ron’s hostile voice.
“I thought he looked poncy. And butt-ugly. Didn’t he, Harry?” He rounded on Harry, who held up his hands and backed down on Ginny’s bed. The owner of the bed skipped over and sat beside him.
“This is going to be a dozy,” she whispered in Harry’s ear. He nodded.
“Should we try to break it up before it starts?” But Ginny shook her head passionately and whispered back, “Maybe Ron’ll get a clue for once.” Harry doubted it.
“It’s not nice to talk about other people behind their back. Especially if you don’t know anything about them,” Hermione spoke tersely, her cheeks flaring up in anger.
Ron had the grace to look embarrassed, but he shrugged and said, “I know enough.”
“What - what do you know that warrants that rudeness?”
Ron opened and closed his mouth a few times, obviously trying to think of something quickly. Harry wished he could toss him a lifeline but he didn’t want to get in the middle of it. And beside, he thought Oliver had seemed nice, a bit too eager but nice.
“Well, you think he’s cute!” Ron exclaimed wretchedly.
Hermione froze and stared at him calmly. “What does that speak to you?”
Harry watched Ron’s brow crease in confusion, and he thought he wasn’t going to get it. Ginny seemed to think so too for she made an incredulous click of her tongue. But then Ron’s eyes widened and he looked at Hermione.
“That I like you?” He started the sentence with no question but quickly tilted the last word to make it into one. Hermione rubbed her face and that redness was still on her nose, though Harry didn’t think it was from being angry anymore.
Ginny snorted and buried her face into Harry’s sleeve to stifle her giggles. Harry smiled down at her. Ron looked over at them, his blush spreading from his ears down his neck.
“Do you want to talk? Away from them?” Ron asked, turning to Hermione, who nodded briskly and waited for Ron to leave the room before she shared a small grin with Ginny.
Once the door shut, Ginny pulled away from Harry and burst out in laughter. “You know what I just realized?”
“What?” Harry moved away from her slightly; she was quite insane sometimes.
She smiled comically. “During those cooking class and the walks to and fro - oh the walks - you’ll be stuck with them!” Harry groaned.
Tuesday August 6, 1996
Draco was angry. He didn’t want to wear scratchy muggle clothes, drive in a muggle car (the fact that it was magically advanced didn’t count), but mostly he didn’t want to be going to a muggle cooking class to make muggle foods with muggles - and Potter.
This was all Potter’s fault. If Potter wasn’t in the class Draco wouldn’t be going there. On the other hand, he could blame it on his second cousin’s friend, of whom he didn’t know.
“Who’s David’s friend?” Draco asked his mother, who was sitting beside him in the back of the mini limo.
Narcissa rapped her head in thought. “It was a weird name. Nashura or Nashirka. Something like that.”
“Is she a muggle?” Draco’s lips curled instinctively into a sneer.
“You know, I don’t know.”
Draco sighed. “I hate this.”
Narcissa patted his hand. Draco pulled it back roughly. “I know, Draco, but make the best of this.” She widened her eyes at him and gave him the same encouraging look she had the evening she said he could have his own views.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Draco asked irritably.
Narcissa gave him a soft glare that didn’t quite mask her hurt. “Now, Draco! Don’t talk to your mother like that. I gave birth to you, you know. Hours of excruciating labor.”
Draco replied shortly, “They have spells for that.”
“Here we are! Off you go, now. Be good. Make me proud.” She leaned across him and opened the door. She even went as far as to push him out. Draco gawked in surprise as she blew him a kiss.
Frantically Draco inquired, “Just how am I to go about doing that?” But Narcissa shut the door with a loud slam, and before he knew it, the limo had drove off, a bellow of dust the only sign that it had been there.
Draco sighed and looked at his watch. He waited impatiently for the dragon to dissolve into the background so he could read it, but it was being stubborn. Draco peered around to make sure no one was in seeing distance before he pulled his wand out and prodded it. The dragon let out a shrill snarl and moved behind the numbers.
Great. He was half an hour late. Usually he liked to make a grand entrance and would have taken full advantage of it but he didn’t care about muggles. Potter was the only other wizard and he didn’t care about making a grand impression around him either.
Draco walked in the school to be surprised by the rush of cold air. He’d felt muggle cooling devices before but it always surprised him. He didn’t like how it was so sudden instead of taking it slowly. He looked up and down the empty hallway. He didn’t know where the room was. Silently he cursed his mother for not finding information out for him.
Then he heard yelling from the hallway to the right and set down there. Wouldn’t it be funny if Potter had set the room on fire? In fact, if that was the case Draco might kiss him since he wouldn’t have to go to the classes.
Well, maybe not kiss him. That was a bit drastic. Perhaps he’d be nice to him for a week when they got back to school.
He reached for the door when it slammed open and hit him on the head. Draco scowled and rubbed at the tender sore.
“Oh! Gods, I’m sorry! I didn’t know anyone was - Malfoy?”
Draco smirked as he looked into the flabbergasted face of Harry Potter. It was almost worth it to be hit by a door just to see his face. Almost.
“Watch where you’re going, scarhead,” Draco seethed.
Potter jumped as if scalded - which was a rather big reaction to Draco’s small insult - and dashed across the hall. “Fire extinguisher!”
“What?” Draco asked in curiosity as he watched Potter pull a red container off the wall and struggled with it for a moment.
“I caught the kitchen on fire,” he explained. “Help me, would you?”
Draco gasped. “I’m not kissing you,” he said before he even knew he was speaking. Did he actually say that aloud?
Potter stopped struggling with the fire extinguisher for a moment. “Erm, that’s good, Malfoy. Because I wouldn’t want you to.” He stared at Draco, who stared right back. “At least open the door, would you?”
Grudgingly Draco held the door opened for him, the screams louder now. He leaned away as the brunette stumbled by, almost ramming into him. Draco shoved him with two fingers to nudge him into walking faster.
“Stop it, I don’t have a good grip on -” The rest of his sentence was droned out by the clattering of the fire extinguisher falling to the tile floor. Draco snorted behind Potter’s back.
“Smooth, Potter,” Draco said sarcastically, humor leaking into his voice.
Potter turned around and glowered at him. “I told you!”
But before Draco could say anything back, a large woman rushed over and picked up the fire extinguisher. She ran to a small fire that was slowly climbing up the wall and cabinet behind a stove, licking at the ceiling. Draco watching in fascination as she swept the nozzle back and forth along the base of the fire, white foam spewing forth. Magic was so much easer. And faster.
“Well, we really need to get a new one in this room” she said. The area was absolutely quiet except for two girls three kitchens over from the one that had caught fire. They were whispering wildly between each other.
“Sorry?” Weasley said after being prodded by Granger. Why was Draco surprised to find them there? If Potter was somewhere, they were. It was like a package, you get one you get all.
“No, no, Ron. It’s fine. You and Harry’ll just have to pay for the damage is all.” The Professor smiled in apology at them. Granger was looking suspiciously at Draco. Weasley appeared to have not seen him yet as he wasn‘t snarling. “The school will make you, not me. Accidents happen, I always say. Once I burnt down the kitchen at my restaurant. Quite funny except it cost a bundle to fix.” She laughed heartily though no one else did. Everyone seemed too shocked by the fire.
Draco took the time to look around. The mini kitchens were pitiful but he guessed okay…for muggles. Besides the two girls, who were still talking to each other, of whom Draco decided he didn’t like, were a group of two other girls, who had stayed in their kitchen. The one with dirty blonde hair and a mischievous grin looked as if she was going to laugh while the other (Japanese, Draco guessed) was covering her mouth. Leaning over the counter to see the damage and snicker was a skinny girl with the ends of her hair dyed pink. Behind her was the only bloke besides Potter and Weasley, and who was looking at Draco in curious interest.
The large lady glanced over at Potter and Draco, her face lighting up. “And you must be Draco! I talked to your mum on the phone yesterday. Welcome, welcome,” she bubbled, rushing over and shaking his hand. Potter raised his eyes questionably at him before he slipped away to Granger and Weasley. The latter was glaring at him in surprise. Draco nearly smiled.
Draco was silent as the Professor continued talking. “I’m Dolly Werner, call me Dolly. You’re a bit late aren’t you? Well, no matter.” She waved her hand absently when Draco started to explain. “Now this is Mary and April,” she said, pointing to the two girls, both of which stopped whispering to give him a little wave after each of their names were called.
“And that there is Keiko.” She barely nodded. “And in the same kitchen is -”
“Nashira Almeda,” she said, grinning at him. “The reason you’re here. Nice to meet you. My friend - your cousin, right? - has told me about you.”
Draco smiled slowly. He was tempted to say it wasn’t because of her that he was there but because he’d defied his father, but decided he didn’t want to get into it. “I can assure you nothing he has said is true,” he replied smoothly. David didn’t like him and therefore liked to make up stories about him.
Nashira’s grin widened. “Good, cause if they weren’t I would be slightly apprehensive to meet you.” Weasley snorted loudly and Draco watched with satisfaction as Granger nudged him, successfully making him fall silent.
“And the one who snorted is Ron and the other boy Harry, the now infamous fire starters,” Dolly spoke. They both flushed though neither stopped glaring. Draco sneered at them. “The girl beside them’s Hermione and beside their kitchen are Carmen and Oliver.”
Carmen looked over and gave him a tentative smile. Oliver’s smile slipped off but then he was walking over, and his smile was back on.
“Oliver Albright. Nice to see you here.” He held out his hand. That prompted Mary and April to converse quickly and quietly, shooting the pair of them funny looks. Draco looked down at Oliver’s hand then at his clothes. He had a smear of nutmeg on his cheek and his shirt had red, girly flowers twisting on it.
“Pleasure.” He didn’t take the hand.
“Let’s see. We’re making banana rice pudding. You can work with one of them since they have to restart theirs.” She pointed to Potter, Weasley, and Granger, all of whom looked upset to be split up. Or maybe because one of them has to work with Draco.
Dolly pulled the three friends out of their kitchen and pointed to two clean ones. “Take those two and have fun!” she called before she went over to Mary and April, who were having trouble boiling their food.
Draco swaggered over to the gryffindors. The three of them were having a whispered conversation about who would be stuck with Draco.
Weasley grabbed Granger’s hand and pouted at Potter, who sighed heavily and nodded his head. But then Granger made eye contact with Draco and said something that made Potter’s eyebrows rise and Weasley sputter. She walked into the kitchen beside her friends and beckoned Draco over. Draco, surprised that Granger had willingly agreed to work with him, hesitated before he walked over. Weasley shot him a suspicious look.
After a few minutes of being amused by watching Granger open her mouth to say something then shutting it and frowning, Draco became annoyed and snapped, “What?”
He smiled in satisfaction as she jumped. “Well, I’ve no idea why you’re here. Though,” She paused in putting ingredients in the pot to peer at him. “I’m guessing you’re not here by choice.”
“Damn bloody right.” He was still upset about that.
Granger winced but continued. “Look, you probably know all that happened at the ministry what with your father being there, and I know you don’t care about Harry, but please don’t say anything about that to him.” Draco stared disbelievingly at her while she looked over at Potter. “Especially not Sirius. Please? I’m asking nicely.”
“I don’t see why I should. There’s nothing in it for me,” he drawled, looking over at Potter talking to Weasley, scathing remarks that were sure to get under his skin already coming to mind.
“You’ll pay for it.”
Draco smirked. “What could you, a Mudblood, do to me?”
“Remember when I punched you back in third year? I’ve been itching to do that again.” She tossed the banana slices in the pot and stirred it with a large wooden spoon. Draco scowled at her but kept quiet.
~~~
“Do you think she fancies him?” Ron said in a voice pitted low enough for only Harry to hear.
“Who?” Harry asked as he pulled out the ingredients, handing the banana to Ron to slice.
“Hermione!” He slammed the knife into the banana harden then was necessary. Harry winced.
“Fancy who? You? You are dating now.”
Ron scowled and pointed at Hermione and Malfoy. She said something that made his face pale even more than it was normally. Harry cheered for her in his head.
“Hermione fancy Malfoy. Are you kidding, Ron? Have you gone around the bend?” Harry stared in amazement at Ron, who had taken to scowling at Harry now. “No one in their right mind would fancy Malfoy.”
Ron dumped the wonkily chopped banana slices into the pot and turned the stove on. “Didn’t Parkinson date him? Girls must see something in that ferret. What if Hermione sees it?”
“Like I said, no one in their right mind would fancy Malfoy.” He must have said that louder than intended for Malfoy glanced across the counter separating their kitchens and said, “Is that so?”
“Yeah, it is,” Harry answered stiffly.
“Maybe it is, but no one with a mind would fancy you.” Malfoy smiled cheerily and turned back to his and Hermione’s rice pudding. Harry caught Hermione’s eye roll. He didn’t understand what Ron was worried about. It was obvious Hermione had no positive feelings for Malfoy, and she could very well handle herself.
By the end of the class, Ron was still ranting about his girlfriend liking Malfoy and Harry had taken to trying to convince him that she didn’t. But mostly he was trying to convince Ron he needn’t bring it up to Hermione. Harry had enjoyed them not arguing after they’d gotten together yesterday thru to today and didn’t want to see it gone.
“Look Ron, Hermione doesn’t like Malfoy at all and…don’t mention that you think she does,” he whispered into Ron’s ear as they tried their banana rice pudding that looked much more like liquid than everyone else’s. “Ugh! This is nasty.” He looked over the counter at Hermione and Malfoy’s. Theirs was chunky. “And gloopy.”
Malfoy leaned over to peer at their food. He laughed before taking a bite of his and moaning in pleasure. Harry glared at him, his eyes drawn to the small glob of rice pudding on Malfoy’s lip. His tongue peaked out and swiped the stray bit away.
Rice pudding! Harry stared at their food. The -
“I think I forgot to add the rice,” Ron grumbled, pushing his bowl away. He had been the one in charge of tossing the ingredients in the pot.
Sure enough, the rice was still in the measuring cup sitting forgotten on the counter.
~~~
Ron had managed to not utter anything about his speculation of Hermione and Malfoy for the entire walk home, though it was obvious he was itching to say something because his feet shifted awkwardly, his eyes darted everywhere, and he kept opening and closing his mouth. Once they reached the door to the Burrow Harry thought Ron wasn’t going to say anything at all. But Harry had thought too soon.
“What’s with you and Malfoy?” he blurted, his voice hard.
Hermione stared at him then looked to Harry, who passed a hand over his face and leaned against the doorway.
“What do you mean?” she asked calmly. Harry was surprised she didn’t have a trace of anger in her voice. He would have bit something back if someone had used that tone on him.
“You wanted to work with Malfoy. Harry had agreed he would and then you went ‘no, I am.’ And then you were whispering to him!” Ron stomped his foot on the ground, his eyes flashing.
Hermione shook her head in irritation. “I was telling him something. I’m sure you’re familiar with the process, Ronald. You and Harry whisper together. Does that mean you two have something going on? Huh?”
Harry frowned. He hated being brought into their arguments.
Ron flustered around for words before he said, “That’s different. Harry and I are friends. And we’re both blokes. You’re not a bloke -”
“Well spotted,” she cut in acidly.
“That’s - I meant - Err!”
The door opened, almost hitting Harry, but he jumped away in time. It reminded him of when he opened the door in Malfoy’s face. He had been so worried about the fire that he never took the time to be satisfied about that. Harry grinned, remembering Malfoy’s face and him rubbing his head. He had opened the door rather hard. Then he remembered Malfoy’s strange kissing comment. That was weird.
“What were you grinning about?” Ginny asked as she surveyed the arguing Ron and Hermione with him. “Surely not these two. If so, you need some help. They’re bloody annoying.”
“Hey!” Ron shouted at her as she had directed the last sentence to them. Hermione looked in hurt at her.
“Well, you are.” She turned to Harry. “Now what are they arguing about?”
Harry went to speak when Ron and Hermione walked between them and into the house, not once pausing in their tirade.
“Did she say something about Malfoy? What’s he got to do with it?” Ginny sat on the step, Harry followed.
“Malfoy’s in the cooking class,” he grumbled. Ginny gasped. Harry nodded. “I opened the door into his head,” Harry said proudly.
“Wait, wait, wait. Why’s Malfoy in a muggle cooking class?”
Harry frowned. “Good question. This Nashira girl said something about it being her fault.”
“Maybe he got in trouble and that was his punishment.” Ginny paused. “So what’s he got to do with Ron and Hermione?”
“Hermione went and worked with him, and now Ron thinks she fancies him.” Ginny scoffed. “I know.”
Ginny shook her head in disgust. “I swear I’m not related to him. He’s so clueless. And stupid.” Harry said nothing out of loyalty to his friend.
“Oh! Ron and I started a fire.” Ginny perked up. “I forgot to turn the burner off and Ron tossed a rag over there. Well, it landed on it and we didn’t know till there was a fire.” Ginny laughed appreciably.
Five minutes later the yelling in the house quieted down. Harry hoped they were still on talking basis. He looked over at Ginny. Ginny was trustworthy. She wouldn’t tell anyone, though Harry wasn’t sure why he didn’t want anyone to know. But it was bothering him; he couldn’t figure out why Malfoy had said that.
“After I hit him with the door and told him about the fire, Malfoy said something…odd,” Harry started tentatively.
Ginny looked over at him, her features softened. “Oh, Harry. Don’t mind what Malfoy says. He’s a jerk and nothing he says is even worth listening to. He probably even -”
“He said he wasn’t going to kiss me,” Harry blurted to cut Ginny’s sure to be ramble off.
Ginny blinked. “Oh.” She blinked again and rubbed her knee. “Why’d you ask him to kiss you?”
Harry gaped, too lost for words. “I - he - What? I didn’t ask him to kiss me. Why would you even think that? Why would I even say that?”
“Oh,” Ginny sighed, relieved. “Then why’d he say it?”
“That’s what makes it odd.” Harry stared off into the darkening sky, pondering. It looked like it was going to storm soon. The Weasleys’ chickens were all flocking into their coop and there was no wind.
“And if you knew why, it wouldn’t be weird?” Her eyes lighted up and she let out a bark of laughter. “Hey! Maybe he wants to kiss you and was trying to convince himself he didn’t!”
She almost fell off the step in laughter. Harry watched her clutch her stomach and slouch forward, but he didn’t think it was very funny. It was just…weird.
~~~
When the mini limo picked Draco up after cooking class the only person in it was the anonymous driver. When he got home one of the house elves told him his parents were at a cocktail party and wouldn’t be home until late that evening. Since Draco had no one to complain to he sent Pansy an owl telling her to floo over. He then spent the next hour complaining and the last hour listening to Pansy talk about every fascinating thing she’s done over the summer before he couldn’t take her happy stories anymore and made her leave, saying he had a headache. Of course, then it took half an hour to reassure her that he was fine and she could leave.
Late that evening he heard his parents coming home. Their slightly intoxicated speech traveled up the stairs and through the crack under his door. Blearily, he listened to them until their voices lulled him to sleep.
“Draco…Draco, darling are you up?” a voice floated through Draco’s sleep-fuddled mind. Draco rolled over in his bed and cracked an eye open.
“Hmm, wha’?” Draco mumbled.
“How was the class?” Narcissa asked, stroking his hair and sitting on the edge of his bed.
“Ugg,” he said groggily. “I got hit in the face by a door and told that no one in their ‘right mind’ would fancy me. And I had to work with Mudblood.” Talking had woken him up and he sat, watching his mother down a small glass bottle of purple hangover potion.
“Aww, darling. Should have figured his friends would be there. So,” she stopped to hiccup, “who did the other stuff?”
“Potter,” Draco grumbled, flopping ungracefully back into a laying position. Now that Draco had the chance to complain he was too tired to. And Narcissa reeked of alcohol.
Narcissa sighed and clumsily patted his knee. She squeezed it and said, “You don’t want to be a Death Eater, do you?”
Draco gaped. “I never said that! I just said I was doing some thinking.”
Narcissa waved her hand absently. “Yes, well, this could come in handy.” At Draco’s raised eyebrows, she leaned forward and whispered into his ear, “It’s Harry Potter. He has the Order on his side. Get in with him and you’ll have protection.” She sat straight and gazed thoughtfully at him. “Or you could just try to brave it on your own. That wouldn’t last long though.”
“So, you’re saying you wouldn’t let me live here if I decided not to?” He waved at the air in front of him, trying to rid of Narcissa’s breath.
“Your father wouldn’t allow it.” She stood and walked to the door. “Just think about it.”
“Mother,” Draco started, stopping her at the half open door. “How long till the hangover potion kicks in?”
“Darling, it’s a hangover potion. It doesn’t get rid of the tipsiness.” She chuckled and shut the door. Draco listened to her uneven footsteps fading down the hall. He fluffed up his pillow and laid on his side. There was no way he would ask Potter for help. His mother really was pissed. And beside, he hadn’t decided either way.
Part Two