D/G Feast Story: Untitled (part 1)
Title: Untitled
Author: Eugenie James
Rating: NC-17
Recipes: Mozzarella Chicken Over Baby Spinach; Chocolate Chip Cheesecake
Summary: In the years it took her to achieve this Hermione Granger never expected the outcome to be so extreme.
In the years it took her to achieve this Hermione Granger never expected the outcome to be so extreme. Of course, it was a liberation of sorts, the house elves leaving their homes in retaliation for years of service with out pay. Some chose to stay for meager allowances that scarcely justified their services to the family, but those cases were few and far in between. There were half way houses being set up world wide for the homeless elves making their transition into individual members of the magical community. Some wizards were happy about this, some saying it was a long time and coming. More were sending howlers and, um, other things to Ms. Granger’s office. It was fast becoming a necessity to move the young witch to a place that was unplotable. This, in turn, caused many difficulties for her flat mate, Ginny Weasley.
“Hermione, dear, did you have to do all that now while we’re still young enough to enjoy a happy and healthy life? Couldn’t you have waited to free the elves until, well say, after I died, got married, moved out, what ever comes last?!?” Ginny screamed, throwing the bag of letters and howlers that were owled in this morning at her roomie’s door. “You better come out and face this, and I also hope that you have an alternate source of funds available because I just got sacked from my job today for merely knowing you, let alone living with you. My boss had three house elves he lost due to your amendment and was not to pleased. Hermione, will you answer me please!”
Slowly the letter battered door opened and out stepped Hermione, only it was not a Hermione that Ginny was used to. This Hermione had red rimmed eyes and (oh my god, please don’t laugh, do not laugh GINNY!) ears and mouth that better suited Dobby.
“Who did this to you?”
Hermione sniffed and her nose fluctuated to that of a house elf and back to her normal pointed one. “I opened a letter. It looked like our monthly rent bill but it was, well, something else. I’ve reversed most of the effects, but I can’t seem to get rid of this!” she wildly waved her arms towards her face and burst into tears once more. Ginny sighed. At least her day had not been as dreadful as her friend’s.
“I’ll floo Mum. She may be able to do something.”
* * *
By the end of the night Hermione’s ears and mouth were back to normal, but the problem with her nose had yet to be solved. Ginny had found the source of the hex laying on the desk in the study. It contained one sentence:
Maybe now you will be more suitable to your affiliates.
Ginny almost laughed when she saw this, thinking of what a perfect prank this would be if it was pulled by Fred and George. She could almost see it now on the shelf at their shop, right next to the ant antennae suckers:
Lost your house elf and in dire need of a replacement? Come to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezers and pick up a supply of instant elf , the one hex guaranteed to turn the recipient into a fully operational house elf.
Ginny crumbled the note and tossed it in the small waste bin next to the desk. She fumbled around the room for a few minutes looking for the morning’s Daily Profit for the want ads. With Ron’s wedding coming up she desperately needed to not be unemployed for long amounts of time. She was supposed to be Luna’s maid of honor and that required a dress, accessories, and throwing a bacholorette party. All those things require and abundance of disposable income which Ginny did not have in her possession. After a few more minutes searching she found what she was looking for. The her surprise this morning’s edition was thicker than usual. Upon further inspection it was revealed that this was due to the large number of job openings in the fields of housekeeper, butler, maid, gardener, and (the most appealing to Ginny) chef. There was even an address to owl a resume to that would find you employment suitable for you in the ever expanding (translation being ‘house elf vacant‘) field of house services. Ginny quickly charmed a quill to write her resume along with her current immediate availability for work and left the room to find her owl, Pig.
Three hour later a small and fidgety owl deposited a rather extensive resume on the desk of the proprietor of Zabini Employment. The dark haired man behind the desk fed the small creature a treat and picked up the letter to scan it’s contents. A mischievous smirk appeared on his face when he read the name.
Blaise laughed. “Ms. Weasley, I know exactly where you will be most needed, and immediately as well.”
***
Narcissa Malfoy was not in a good mood. She had just lost her second house elf this year do to another of Draco’s old school mates. In addition she had missed her morning massage, three visitors (no one had answered the door and she sure as hell wasn’t going to do it), and every meal. No one had cooked. Once she realized the problem she immediately flooed her son Draco at his job in the Ministry of Magic to fix it. Although he looked slightly irritated he coolly informed her he had contacted an agency that would be taking care of everything and it should be back to normal by dinner tonight. He wouldn’t be home until late so she would have to see to the particulars and cousin Blaise would be by to assist her. Have a nice day.
Oh, and he also informed her she would have to answer the door, it was probably Blaise she was ignoring.
Narcissa sat in the foyer for the rest of the day. Her shoulders ached, her stomach made obscene noises, and she noticed dust on the table and sofa in the room. When the visitor came again she rushed to the door and flung it open, a look of hope and expectation on her face. Standing before her was son’s third cousin Blaise Zabini and he had with him an entourage of three. One was a balding middle aged wizard with pale blue eyes and gray hair. The next was slightly younger than the male, a witch with black hair and a pudgy build. The third was a small wisp of a girl, looking barely older than 17 with her flame red hair pulled back into quite a severe bun. On her young angelic face she wore no make up and her ears and neck were naked of any adornments. She was dressed in black robes that reminded Narcissa of her son’s old school uniform. She placed her attention back on Blaise. “Come in and situate the, I’m guessing, staff. I would like a short introduction to each and I will inform them of what their duties shall be.” Narcissa stepped to the side to allow her new employees in, each meeting her eyes as they entered, each offering a faint smile. Each, except for the last. The pale red haired girl kept her eyes glued to the floor seeming to be mesmerized by the spacing in between each marble tile.
“Girl, what is your name?’ She directed addressed the child. Honey brown eyes looked up at her and the child opened her mouth to speak right as Blaise jumped in between the two females.
“This is your new chef. She had references from Le Martinique and one very personal one from a family friend of my mother’s. She also had had extensive training in apparation and disapparation of inanimate objects, such as your meals Mrs. Malfoy. In short, you will never know she is here, her presence will never be requires anywhere but your kitchen.”
Narcissa looked perplexed for a minute, her brows furled, and her mouth went into a hard line. The look she bore was as if something of importance were eluding her and her grasp was nearly there, but not quite. Then her expression cleared and she let whatever was (or in her case, was not) going on in her head go. She looked to Ginny and smiled.
“The kitchen is to my right through the hall and around the corner. Dinner is served promptly at 7:30 in the Malfoy household and I expect a three course meal every night. Neither I nor my son enjoy salads so you can skip that, and my son does not particularly enjoy ham. Breakfast is at 10:30, and lunch at 3 in the afternoon. I live in a late rising schedule and my meals accommodate such. The only meal my son shares with me is dinner, so I prefer it to be impressive, to say the least. And without interruptions.” Narcissa motioned to her right with her hand in a lax gesture of giving an order. “Go to it girl. I have not eaten all day and it is almost three.”
Ginny nodded and nearly ran to the kitchen, tears stinging her eyes. At that moment she knew why the Malfoys were notorious for their treatment of their subordinates. In that woman’s eyes Ginny was so far below her on the social scale that she didn’t even recognize her.
* * *
Blaise lead the staff through their duties. Kaenery was the maid and over all head of house. She would see that Ginny got all the supplies she needed in the kitchen as it was Ginny’s duty to provide her with a list on Sunday morning for the rest of the week. Conner, the butler, took care of guests and general house cleaning with Kaenery. While Ginny and Conner were allowed to leave after their duties were over, Kaenery was to reside on the property in a guest room. If they needed time off or a vacation Blaise would see to a temporary replacement for that time. Mrs. Malfoy had one order she had given to all three. They were not to be seen unless called for.
The pay was substantial, and wanting to impress her new boss with her culinary skills Ginny made a light and airy spinach and sun dried tomato soufflé with cream cheese and mozzarella. For the protein of the meal she sautéed prong shrimp with scallops in a pinot grigio butter sauce. She then garnished the plate with a bit of fresh rosemary and ground chipotle. At exactly three p.m. Ginny waved her wand over the dish and watched as her masterpiece disappeared in front of her. With that done Ginny began her exploration of the cabinets and cooler of the Malfoy kitchen. She smiled to herself. With everything that this place had stocked she would be able to wow her employers for months, but most especially tonight.
Ginny removed her most prized possession from her robes, a cook book that was nothing but hand written recipes. Some were her mother’s, personal favorites of Ginny. Some were a combination of things that her and Hermione had come up with, desserts, appetizers, some even just drunken girls splattering the pages with flour and wine in an attempt to make something tasty, or in the least edible. Most were her own personal creations. What she wanted to prepare tonight was one of her favorites, but very simple. From the cooler she removed about two pounds of chicken breast and began to cut it up into centimeter thick slices. When she was done she placed the chicken in a bowl and added two tablespoons of worcestershire sauce, two table spoons of Italian seasoning and one teaspoon of jerk seasoning. She tossed the chicken in the bowl until it was evenly coated with the marinate and placed a chilling spell on the bowl so that it could set successfully.
This kitchen had one accessory that Ginny absolutely adored. When she would sit and dream about her big house fantasies and how she would decorate every room, the kitchen was the only room she saw clearly. It always had a marble island in the middle great for cutting anything on a free space, but it also had the pots and pans hanging from a wire rack suspended from the ceiling. A gasp left her slightly parted red lips in utter awe. As far as she was concerned, she could live here, in this kitchen only. Ginny removed a small sauce pan from the rack and placed it on a simmering heat on the stove. She then added about a tablespoon of butter to the pan and waited for it to melt. As she did this she finely chopped green onions and mince a clove of garlic. By the time she was done with this the butter was sizzling. She added the onions and garlic and sautéed them until the onions were a dark green. She looked toward the cooler.
“Accio cream,” and then added one cup of heavy whipping cream to the mixture. She left this to simmer at the lowest possible heat. She noted that the time was already six. Taking out a package of mozzarella she cast her wand to the table to do it the good old fashioned muggle way. She began shredding the cheese. When she had about a cup full she began to add it to the cream butter sauce. Now 6:30. Sighing that she’d have to use more magic than she wished to (Ginny was a hands on sort of girl, it was something she picked up from Hermione and their cooking nights) she set a spoon to continuously stir the sauce to melt and not burn the cheese. Looking up again she picked another sauce pan, this on shallow and perfect for pan frying and searing. “Accio olive oil” and the coated the bottom of the pan with a small layer of olive oil. Setting that to medium heat she accio-ed the chicken as well. Once the oil moved smother than water over the pan she began to cook the chicken a few pieces at a time. Pan searing chicken gave a wonderful crisp texture to the poultry while locking in the moister on the inside. She checked on the sauce and smirked to herself, it was smoothing out wonderfully. Ginny then flipped the pieces of chicken and went about shredding another cup of cheese.
* * *
Draco Malfoy’s steady steps could be heard only in the immediate area so soft were his footfalls. He was familiar with his mother’s propensity to nap this time of the day and wished not to disturb her with his early return home. He noted with some interest that the furniture was cleaner than when he left and the plants his mother loved to fill the house with since his father’s imprisonment had been watered. Also, no one greeted him at the door. Blaise must have done a good job picking the new help. On his way up the stairs to his room to bathe Draco left his work robe on the resting chair. He would check to see if it had been picked up before dinner.
* * *
Ginny surveyed her handiwork. She had washed and let air dry baby spinach leaves and filled up the bottom of two small casserole dishes. On top of that she had placed the chicken and then covered it with cream sauce. Her chocolate chip cheese cake had come out of the oven thirty minutes before and she was finished preparing the apple and brown sugar dipping sauce she would be serving with the crab rangoon appetizer. With about 20 minutes left to go she topped both dishes with the extra shredded mozzarella and a light sprinkling of un salted sunflower seeds. At seven thirty on the dot she sent out the rangoon and put the chicken dish into broil so that the top cheese would turn a tasty golden brown and also reheat the entire dish. She knew Conner had set a bottle of Santa Margherita Pinot Grigio out as well as water to match the meal. The wine was one of Ginny’s favorites and she knew it matched the meal accordingly.
Watching the cheese color carefully she removed the chicken from the oven. Waving her wand and muttering a soft wingardium leviosa she transferred the ensemble to another plate. She topped the meal off with crumbled feta cheese and recalled the appetizer plates and smiled to herself when she found them both void of even the smallest crumb. Another quick wave of her wand and she sent the main course off for the Malfoy’s approval. She had been told by Kaenery to wait at least thirty minutes before serving dessert due to the fact that the mother and son spent a good bit of their time talking during their meal. Ginny couldn’t imagine what either of them had to say to each other.
“Dear, how was your hair today?”
“Fine mother, it stayed slicked back and perfect for the past twenty years, today was no different. How was your day?”
“Fine, I made the Weasley girl feel lacking by merely existing such as I do, and I brushed by hair until I fell asleep on the terrace.”
Ginny laughed at her imaginary conversation. As if those two had anything of merit to say to one another.
* * *
“Have you heard from your father? The new minister has pushed to let prisoners send out owls to members of their family as long as they are previewed by an auror first.”
Draco tried to keep the look of disgust from appearing on his face at the mention of his father. Spending these past two years with out his presence since Voldemort’s demise had actually been quite pleasant for Draco. No longer in his father’s shadow he had taken control of many of the Malfoy business and made them more lucrative than his father ever could have hoped for. His only regret was protecting his mother from all his father’s deeds. If he had let her know from the start his father’s true role in the darker parts of the war she wouldn’t still have him on a pedestal the way she did.
He sighed, “No, mother, I have not heard from father. I’m sure he is quite busy in Azkaban.”
Narcissa rolled her eyes, “What, pray tell, do you think he does Draco? Twiddle his thumbs and sing ‘I’m a little tea pot?’”
“Particularly good dinner, don’t you agree mother? Who is out new cook again?”
“Very well, my dear, I will drop the subject for now. I didn’t catch her name, but she seem young, too young if you ask me. Very nondescript in her clothing. And shy, wouldn’t truly meet my eye. I almost told Blaise to send her back but he said she was a family friend of his mother’s. I wonder who, though.”
Draco noticed the look of emptiness in his mother’s eyes. She got this way when she was reminiscing about her life before his father. He know Blaise’s mother and his had been friends at Hogwarts, but besides that his mother never mentioned any other old acquaintances. He knew he would have to ask Blaise for more information, or he could go right to the chef and ask her himself. Just then his empty dinner plate disappeared and was replaced with the most succulent dessert he had ever seen. This woman had managed to combine his two loves…. cheesecake and chocolate. The white square plate the slice sat on was adorned with chocolate syrup stripes and accented with raspberries. His wine had been replaced with a cappuccino and a glass of iced milk. Slowly, as if afraid to disturb the peaceful picture in front of him Draco delicately broke the top layer of his cheesecake with his dessert spoon and raised the bite to his mouth. Almighty Merlin, it was still warm. He risked a glance across the table to his mother. Her eyes were closed with absolute bliss. He knew that was the end of talk of his father tonight. He also knew he was going to meet to the cook as soon as he was done.
* 2 *
Ginny sat in her favorite chair gazing out the snowy window. Christmas was upon them and she had already survived her first two months at the Malfoy’s. On her first day she had left early to appease Hermione’s continuous flooing the kitchen fireplace to check on her. She hadn’t realized the Malfoy’s dined that late and her flat mate was worried. Although she had sworn Hermione to secrecy as to her occupation she knew she would worry about her. She was at Malfoy Manor for Merlin’s sake! Just by the grace of her worried friend she had narrowly avoid a ferret sighting as she later joked to Hermione. Kaenery informed her the next day that the ‘young mister Malfoy’ had sought her out. He requested that she bake the cheesecake once a week at least. This brought a great deal of pride to Ginny.
Today was her off day. Technically. On Sunday morning all Ginny had to do was drop off her supply list to Kaenery and prep the food for the day. Usually for dinner she made a refrigerated desert the night before and the rest was bake and send. She gave Kaenery cooking lessons on Saturday nights and the two women usually enjoyed some wine and laughter while Ginny explained a few tricks that made some things come along simpler and tastier than traditional methods. As a result Kaenery cooked Sunday breakfast while Ginny explained how to set out dinner. The woman was a powerhouse and reminded her much of her own mother at home taking care of a house full of children and one decidedly flighty husband. She had, to Ginny’s dismay, not been at the Manor today. Conner said a family emergency occurred and she would be gone for the remainder of the week. He would be stepping in her position in the mean time and was fine to let Ginny continue to have her Sunday off. She also let Conner have Wednesdays off since it was the day the Malfoy home was the quietest. All in all Ginny was satisfied with her job. Her few objections to being placed in Malfoy Manor were smoothed over by Blaise. After assuring her that past the first day she would have little to no contact with the family he had also told her that Draco wouldn’t even recognize her should their paths cross. Then he made a very strategic move, he stroked her ego.
“The truth is, Ms. Weasley, no one else who applied is as qualified for the job as you are.”
Ginny smiled at the memory. I was nice to be told that you were the most qualified, even if the position was as a personal chef to the Malfoy family.
The sound of a creaking door jarred Ginny from her thoughts. Hermione made her way into the study and seated herself in the chair across from Ginny.
“How’s work?”
“Great. Ditto to you?”
Hermione shifted in her chair, “Still no luck. No one will hire me. I am Miss Hermione Granger, the witch who dispersed the house elves. I can’t go anywhere without being hexed, or at least being yelled at. I’m considering taking a muggle holiday.”
Ginny nearly did a double take at this. A muggle holiday was something she and her friend often joked about, getting a flat in London and partying down until the sun came up or later. It was just that, a joke. Unfortunately Ginny could see from the stress lines that had taken residence on her friend’s face all the drama was getting to her. Maybe it would be for the best.
“So how long are you going to be gone for? Until this whole house elf thing blows over?”
“Yeah. I know it’s very un-Gryffindor of me, but there’s a difference between bravery and just being fed up. I’m at the end of my tether with this Ginny. Any more and I may just snap one day and hex a room full of people with elf ears.”
“Are you going to tell Harry before you leave?”
Hermione’s answer was so low Ginny had to strain to hear it.
“I haven’t spoken to him since he moved in with Ron.”
“Translation being since he moved out. Bloody hell, Hermione, what happened between the two of you? I’ve asked my brother and he said two people as close as you and he were shouldn’t live together but they do just fine and so do we. Harry changes the subject whenever I bring up your name and you’re no better, what’s the big secret that I can’t know?”
“I made a mistake, a big one, and we need time.” Hermione sighed, her eyes closing as a bitter smile crossed her lips. “If even time is enough to fix it.”
Ginny knew she had gotten as far as she could on the subject, but it was further than she had gotten before. About four months prior Hermione had showed up at the Burrow with an offer Ginny could not refuse. Harry had moved out and she was in need of a flat mate, pronto. Ginny jumped on the offer only to find out later from her brother that Harry had moved out not from the pressures of living with a girl (as Ginny had figured, bras and hair stuff everywhere would drive any guy nutters) but because he and Hermione had a fight. A big one. One that Ron didn’t even know the reason of. Harry refused, although very politely, any attempts Ginny made to have him over, and Hermione wouldn’t visit Ron at home, instead met him out for lunch twice a week to catch up. They were at a stalemate, neither former roomies would budge.
“You can’t leave yet, we have to have one last weekend, you and me, a night with the girls. Saturday, we’ll go to a muggle club in city that no one will know us at. We’ll rent a room and get insanely sloshed and sleep it off there. We can go just after I get off of work, I’ll even bring my clothes with me and meet you there.”
Hermione perked up a little. “Sounds great. I can endure five more days of hiding in shadows.”
* * *
Draco made his way to the kitchen strait from coming home from work. Monday was always a bad day, he had the weekend’s profits from the Malfoy businesses to review and reports to turn in. The only thought that had seen him through his hectic day was cheesecake, more precisely the one he could have made for him fresh at home. With his mother on vacation to visit her family (some distant cousin whose saving grace was a villa in the south of France) he had no need for a formal dinner. Just cheesecake, and lots of it. Narcissa had flooed him shortly after four to inform him that she was leaving, a last minute decision. A week, or a few more, without his mother in the house was Draco’s idea of a vacation. He was near vomiting with her constant requests to write his father. When ever he would broach why she wouldn’t write her own husband, why did he have to do it, she would stammer off into something about ‘not having the proper words.’ Whatever those were. Draco’s musing were soon interrupted by a sight he never expected to see in his house, or anywhere else, when he opened the kitchen door.
There was a woman, not a child the way his mother had described her. On the counter was an odd shaped sort of thing with buttons and dials everywhere that was emitting music into the room. Music the woman was dancing to. Her red hair hung down her back in waves to the top of her arse, swaying with her movement. He had never seen a chef move like this. Dressed in a short black skirt and a loose fitting black sweater the woman moved in tune with the music, in one hand she held a whisk which she used as a microphone to sing into. Draco was mesmerized my her curvy trim legs that were fully on display.
“I’m feeling sexy, I wanna hear you say my name, boy.” She turned to face him, her eyes closed, she dipped down to the floor and raised herself in timing with the tempo. She turned around again and this time Draco could see a flash of a tight stomach and delicately curved waist from the slight lifting of the top. His breath caught in his throat. She was familiar, but Draco couldn’t place her.
“If you can reach me, you can feel my burning flame,” at this she turned around again. This time her eyes were completely open.
Shocked, Ginny dropped the whisk, her mouth frozen in an O of horror. Then, as if she had evaluated the situation and thought better of her present stance, stood up strait, smiled, and reached her hand out to shake his.
“Pleased to meet you Mr. Malfoy, I am your chef, Ginny Weasley.”
If a pin would have dropped in the room at that moment it would have been heard across the entire house had it not been for the music from the button and dial music maker.
“I want cheesecake for dinner. And milk. And coffee. My mother will not be here. Um, chocolate cheesecake. Warm, um, understood?”
Ginny flashed him a dazzling smile and once again for the second time in five minutes he found it difficult to breathe. “What ever you desire Mr. Malfoy. Anything else you wish me to prepare for you?” Ginny placed a look of mock obedience on her face, her mind racing a kilometer a minute. She needed this job and he hated her family.
Draco looked around the kitchen. He focused on the button thingie.
“Turn that off, it will distract you while you make my cheesecake.”
Ginny smiled, “Of course. Your dessert will be ready in little over an hour,” and she turned around to continue what she was doing in between her singing and dancing. A slightly bewildered Draco left the kitchen feeling as if he had just been dismissed from a from in his own house. Walking down the hallway he paused mid-step as a sudden realization hit him. With a loud crack he was gone from his house one second and in the next standing in front of Blaise Zabini.
* * *
Blaise looked up from his desk to see his very irate cousin. He smiled a wide mischievous smile.
“I see you have discovered Ms. Weasley’s employment at your humble abode.”
Draco looked about ready to breathe fire.
“What were you thinking? Hiring a Weasley to work for me, to stay over long periods of time at my house, to prepare my food! ”
“You did once say that she was the only not completely hopeless spawn of the Weasley gene pool, if I remember correctly, in our seventh year no less. I didn’t think you’d completely find fault in my decision. Besides, the witch is a near goddess in the kitchen, or do you disagree?” Blaise raised one eyebrow questioningly as he tried desperately to keep the mirth from his face. His cousin right now was truly priceless.
“You did this on purpose, as a joke, to torment me? I wager you think you were so clever doing this, has your little prank played out as well as you hoped?”
“Even better. Revenge, a dish best served cold. In your case you get mine with a side of asparagus topped with béarnaise sauce.”
For a moment Draco looked perplexed. Then realization hit him. “You cannot be serious, for that?”
Blaise smiled, triumph gleaming in his eyes.
“Yes, dear cousin, for that.”
* * *
Ginny cut the cake into eighths separating individual slices by a mere inch still forming a circle. In between each slice she placed one raspberry and filled in the remaining emptiness with chocolate shavings. She grinned mischievously at her work. From what she remembered of ferret boy from her Hogwarts days his sweet tooth was like an obsession to him. Her first few weeks she had been touch and go to her regarding her employment, but now she felt stable. She was sure Malfoy would justify employing her in his head as she was his inferior on the social ladder, but as long as her salary did not decrease she was not moving. Ginny loved her job.
The godfather clock in the den could be heard in every room of the house. At the chime of seven thirty Ginny waved her wand over the cake and watched as it disappeared along with the milk and coffee, both cups magically charmed to refill the moment the glass became level.
Monday. A long week ahead of her where she would only be cooking for Malfoy according to Conner. Maybe longer if Narcissa saw fit to stay in France. Ginny caught the thoughts in her mind for a minute and wondered why she was so comfortable calling Narcissa by her first name and Malfoy by, well Malfoy (or ferret boy). Her brief run in with the matriarch was rude and condescending in tone, her moment with Malfoy was him stammering in pure shock where Ginny knew she had the upper hand. She smiled to herself, her mind went to what she was doing at the time. It wasn’t the first time in the last hour she had wondered if it was her being a Weasley that had unsettled him, or the display he had walked in on. She had just gotten off the floo network with Hermione about their night out Saturday and was in a dancing mood. She had been told on more than forty occasions about her moves, a few times by non partial (homosexual) witnesses and had every confidence that she was desirable.
Blaise had already told her Narcissa said she would ‘famish to nothing and a dull bronzed knut’ if she did not gain substance on from non other than the wunderkind girl cook. Ginny was curious, was she able to push the limits of a Malfoy, one young male one unparticular.
* * *
Draco could not touch the cheese cake. He tried. His fork had grazed it’s edges, peeled away a small layer of warm creaminess. Her hands had made it. What bothered him was not the usual ‘Oh, muggle loving Weasley hands‘, he had gotten over that long ago when he was not constantly faced with the amazing trio every day. It was the same hands he had seen skim up her sides as she sang and slightly twitched her hips with the music. Not so much a twist, he mused, as a sway, her small waist rotating in unison with the outward curve her hips made with the dip of her legs. He then remembered Blaise’s parting advice to him:
“Get over yourself and get over what you expect her to be. You may be surprised. If you decide to keep your head firmly implanted up your arse, please refrain from making her life hell. She’s above you, and she’s certainly above the position she keeps in your house.”
Draco picked up the cake plate and walked to the kitchen. In the back corner of his mind he hoped to find her dancing, but then he’d have to berate her for disobeying him. What he found was her perched on the counter with her legs crossed at her knees, the damnable skirt bunched at the apex of her legs revealing more leg than was proper in his kitchen, or anywhere else in his house. Ginny looked to him and quirked a delicately arched cinnamon colored eyebrow.
“I tried to recall the plate but nothing happened. Was something remiss with your, um, ‘dinner’?”
“I’m not used to eating alone, at least not here. I’ll finish later when I find it convenient.”
Ginny nodded, a smirk on her lips. “When you have company? If you have a dinner guest at any time other than your mother let me know and I can whip up a ravishing meal. I do an excellent job with crème brulee. It would be advantageous to you to make a display of licking the spoon in such an event.”
She was flirting. He knew it.
Draco stepped up to her , his eyes locked into hers and without preamble let the plate fall to the counter. Neither flinched when the sharp sound of porcelain meeting marble rudely disturbed the silence of the room.
“That would be nice for tomorrow night, I will be having a guest. Please dress accordingly.”
Draco left the kitchen, a certain lazy grace accented his walk, the sway of his body and legs.
Ginny wondered what he looked like when he danced, if he ever danced. Then it hit her…
Dress accordingly?
* * *
Seven thirty on the mark she sent the appetizer out, two small plates of shrimp almandine made with extra amaretto to appeal to Malfoy’s sweet palate. Ten minutes later when she recalled the plates they were both untouched. More than just a bit perplexed Ginny let out a frustrated growl. She knew the shrimp were perfect, she had tasted them herself to be sure. Taking both plates in hand she made a bee line for the dinning hall, her three inch heels making angry echoes sound through the hall. She could see a faint light flickering through the open door. Sealing herself against his sure insults (had he set this up to insult her in front of a guest?) she stepped through the door.
Ginny was confused.
Draco was the lone occupant of the room. Reclining in his usual chair he had the airs of a king, or at least a brat prince. With an almost bored sigh Malfoy gestured to the chair across from him.
“I’ve been waiting. Sit.”
Not knowing what else to do, Ginny sat in the suggested chair. Conner came from the shadows somewhere behind her and took the shrimp out of her hands and placed one plate in front of her and the other in front of his employer. Already poured in a crystal balloon glasses was a canary tinted white wine. Malfoy lifted his glass and took a sip.
“Fine choice, I assumed it’s one of yours, it’s not one that was kept in stock here previous to your employment. Use it to cook much?”
“Not really, more of a suggestion.” Oh Merlin, was Draco Ferret Boy Malfoy really making small talk with her?
“Thank you for dressing appropriately for dinner. Do you always wear black?”
“Having red hair it’s difficult to find a color to suit me. White does well, but not in winter, I seem to get washed out with all the snow wherever I go.”
Draco looked her over, from the crown of her head to her stomach, which was the last thing available to his perusal. She wore a flowing black dress that had a high neck and empire waist line. Classic, not dramatic as his mother usually chose to dress for their dinners. Her hair was in a tight twist at the nape of her neck and she wore no makeup. Adult hood had done Ginny Weasley well, her high cheek bones held a healthy blush (probably from her earlier anger), and where as in Hogwarts her face had always held that innocent child look with a cherub mouth and wide eyes those features had matured with the loss of baby fat to a woman’s face. How his mother could have ever mistaken her for a child was beyond him.
Ginny refused to shrink under his assessment of her. Instead she returned the favor. Draco’s pale looks were complimented by his white button dress shirt. His hair was cut short and fell in soft waves about his brow. Even relaxing as he was he still managed to look aristocratic. The most unnerving thing about him were his eyes, a gray that bordered on silver, but she could almost hear him snicker at her description ‘Platinum Weasley, silver is below a Malfoy.’
“How did you learn to cook?”
Small talk again.
“My mother mostly. Being the only girl we are really close. She would show me all kinds of tricks and her special cook books and recipes she only used on holidays. Eventually I started to experiment myself with different things. I also would sneak down to Hogwarts kitchens and have the house elves teach me their technique. When Fleur married Bill she suggested I apprentice at Le Martinque, her brother’s place, under him. That’s about it.”
“Your don’t cook like that place. I’ve eaten there a few times on business. Your style is a little more, what’s the word I’m searching for? Eclectic. The chef there tended to stay with one genre of food.”
“I like to experiment. Boredom does strange things to you when all you have at your disposal is a large kitchen and everything a chef could ever desire at her fingertips.”
Draco smiled, accepting her compliment. A warm sensation settled in Ginny’s stomach. Why was he being so accommodating, so bloody charming?
“Do you miss the energy of working there? You must have fits of lethargy here.”
“I prefer this. I don’t feel stifled. Are were going to eat, this warming charm won’t last forever.”
“By all means, I’ve been waiting for you to get started.”
* * *
They ate their meal with small topics of conversation keeping the mood pleasant. He asked of her opinion on new witch dress robe fashions (not risqué enough, she liked the muggle trends as of late) and she inquired of his busy schedule and if he ever get any weekends off (he was away on weekends checking on businesses in lower Britain, and his ministry work kept him busy during the week). The main course was a pan fried redfish served with lump crab meat covered in white wine cream sauce and grilled asparagus. Ginny had asked Conner to fetch her wand from the kitchen and she conjured up the dishes for them when they were done with the shrimp. Draco was impressed, she clarified her proficiency with apparation of food came from the Hogwarts house elves.
Dessert was crème brulee as promised. When the dessert appeared the top did a small sizzle as flame magically erupted.
“Once again, much impressed. I suppose you had it charmed to do that on appearance?”
She blushed, his compliments on her skills more than she was used to. “Of course, how else could it be as perfect as I claimed?”
After dinner Ginny rose from her seat and Draco rose with her. The gentlemanly manner was not lost on Ginny but she felt out of place with it. This behavior was not what she expected from him.
“Will you join me tomorrow? I don’t wish to eat alone when I don’t have to. I enjoyed your company.”
If anyone else had been making the request but him Ginny would have complied. She was about to tell him no when he said something that stopped her.
“Please.”
Not a question, a statement. Just a way of making his request more polite. Ginny nodded and left to clean the rest of the kitchen. It would be an interesting week.
As pleasant as the conversation was Ginny was feeling uncomfortable. She had gotten over her ‘ferret boy complex’ as Hermione called it and now was taking in an assessment of him. Draco was attractive. When he smiled, which seemed to be often, Ginny blushed. When she went on a passionate tangent of her preference (usually cooking, music, or her discussions with Hermione on house elves) he listened. Not the polite nodding of his head and agreeing at the right spots, but he actually listened to her, making valid points and observations of her opinions when she was done. He was equally passionate about his businesses, feeling that they were the only way to save the Malfoy family name from the tarnish his father had placed on it. Ginny was enthralled. She learned that Narcissa didn’t know the extent of his father’s crimes and on the whole believed Lucius was framed.
Ginny was beginning to care. The Draco she was getting to know was different from the hateful child she had known at Hogwarts. Still arrogant and vain, but somehow his edges were softer. Ginny was seeing him as human.
It was on their forth dinner together that she told him she could not dine with him anymore. Her excuse was that the dinners were not ‘professional’.
Author: Eugenie James
Rating: NC-17
Recipes: Mozzarella Chicken Over Baby Spinach; Chocolate Chip Cheesecake
Summary: In the years it took her to achieve this Hermione Granger never expected the outcome to be so extreme.
In the years it took her to achieve this Hermione Granger never expected the outcome to be so extreme. Of course, it was a liberation of sorts, the house elves leaving their homes in retaliation for years of service with out pay. Some chose to stay for meager allowances that scarcely justified their services to the family, but those cases were few and far in between. There were half way houses being set up world wide for the homeless elves making their transition into individual members of the magical community. Some wizards were happy about this, some saying it was a long time and coming. More were sending howlers and, um, other things to Ms. Granger’s office. It was fast becoming a necessity to move the young witch to a place that was unplotable. This, in turn, caused many difficulties for her flat mate, Ginny Weasley.
“Hermione, dear, did you have to do all that now while we’re still young enough to enjoy a happy and healthy life? Couldn’t you have waited to free the elves until, well say, after I died, got married, moved out, what ever comes last?!?” Ginny screamed, throwing the bag of letters and howlers that were owled in this morning at her roomie’s door. “You better come out and face this, and I also hope that you have an alternate source of funds available because I just got sacked from my job today for merely knowing you, let alone living with you. My boss had three house elves he lost due to your amendment and was not to pleased. Hermione, will you answer me please!”
Slowly the letter battered door opened and out stepped Hermione, only it was not a Hermione that Ginny was used to. This Hermione had red rimmed eyes and (oh my god, please don’t laugh, do not laugh GINNY!) ears and mouth that better suited Dobby.
“Who did this to you?”
Hermione sniffed and her nose fluctuated to that of a house elf and back to her normal pointed one. “I opened a letter. It looked like our monthly rent bill but it was, well, something else. I’ve reversed most of the effects, but I can’t seem to get rid of this!” she wildly waved her arms towards her face and burst into tears once more. Ginny sighed. At least her day had not been as dreadful as her friend’s.
“I’ll floo Mum. She may be able to do something.”
* * *
By the end of the night Hermione’s ears and mouth were back to normal, but the problem with her nose had yet to be solved. Ginny had found the source of the hex laying on the desk in the study. It contained one sentence:
Maybe now you will be more suitable to your affiliates.
Ginny almost laughed when she saw this, thinking of what a perfect prank this would be if it was pulled by Fred and George. She could almost see it now on the shelf at their shop, right next to the ant antennae suckers:
Lost your house elf and in dire need of a replacement? Come to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezers and pick up a supply of instant elf , the one hex guaranteed to turn the recipient into a fully operational house elf.
Ginny crumbled the note and tossed it in the small waste bin next to the desk. She fumbled around the room for a few minutes looking for the morning’s Daily Profit for the want ads. With Ron’s wedding coming up she desperately needed to not be unemployed for long amounts of time. She was supposed to be Luna’s maid of honor and that required a dress, accessories, and throwing a bacholorette party. All those things require and abundance of disposable income which Ginny did not have in her possession. After a few more minutes searching she found what she was looking for. The her surprise this morning’s edition was thicker than usual. Upon further inspection it was revealed that this was due to the large number of job openings in the fields of housekeeper, butler, maid, gardener, and (the most appealing to Ginny) chef. There was even an address to owl a resume to that would find you employment suitable for you in the ever expanding (translation being ‘house elf vacant‘) field of house services. Ginny quickly charmed a quill to write her resume along with her current immediate availability for work and left the room to find her owl, Pig.
Three hour later a small and fidgety owl deposited a rather extensive resume on the desk of the proprietor of Zabini Employment. The dark haired man behind the desk fed the small creature a treat and picked up the letter to scan it’s contents. A mischievous smirk appeared on his face when he read the name.
Blaise laughed. “Ms. Weasley, I know exactly where you will be most needed, and immediately as well.”
***
Narcissa Malfoy was not in a good mood. She had just lost her second house elf this year do to another of Draco’s old school mates. In addition she had missed her morning massage, three visitors (no one had answered the door and she sure as hell wasn’t going to do it), and every meal. No one had cooked. Once she realized the problem she immediately flooed her son Draco at his job in the Ministry of Magic to fix it. Although he looked slightly irritated he coolly informed her he had contacted an agency that would be taking care of everything and it should be back to normal by dinner tonight. He wouldn’t be home until late so she would have to see to the particulars and cousin Blaise would be by to assist her. Have a nice day.
Oh, and he also informed her she would have to answer the door, it was probably Blaise she was ignoring.
Narcissa sat in the foyer for the rest of the day. Her shoulders ached, her stomach made obscene noises, and she noticed dust on the table and sofa in the room. When the visitor came again she rushed to the door and flung it open, a look of hope and expectation on her face. Standing before her was son’s third cousin Blaise Zabini and he had with him an entourage of three. One was a balding middle aged wizard with pale blue eyes and gray hair. The next was slightly younger than the male, a witch with black hair and a pudgy build. The third was a small wisp of a girl, looking barely older than 17 with her flame red hair pulled back into quite a severe bun. On her young angelic face she wore no make up and her ears and neck were naked of any adornments. She was dressed in black robes that reminded Narcissa of her son’s old school uniform. She placed her attention back on Blaise. “Come in and situate the, I’m guessing, staff. I would like a short introduction to each and I will inform them of what their duties shall be.” Narcissa stepped to the side to allow her new employees in, each meeting her eyes as they entered, each offering a faint smile. Each, except for the last. The pale red haired girl kept her eyes glued to the floor seeming to be mesmerized by the spacing in between each marble tile.
“Girl, what is your name?’ She directed addressed the child. Honey brown eyes looked up at her and the child opened her mouth to speak right as Blaise jumped in between the two females.
“This is your new chef. She had references from Le Martinique and one very personal one from a family friend of my mother’s. She also had had extensive training in apparation and disapparation of inanimate objects, such as your meals Mrs. Malfoy. In short, you will never know she is here, her presence will never be requires anywhere but your kitchen.”
Narcissa looked perplexed for a minute, her brows furled, and her mouth went into a hard line. The look she bore was as if something of importance were eluding her and her grasp was nearly there, but not quite. Then her expression cleared and she let whatever was (or in her case, was not) going on in her head go. She looked to Ginny and smiled.
“The kitchen is to my right through the hall and around the corner. Dinner is served promptly at 7:30 in the Malfoy household and I expect a three course meal every night. Neither I nor my son enjoy salads so you can skip that, and my son does not particularly enjoy ham. Breakfast is at 10:30, and lunch at 3 in the afternoon. I live in a late rising schedule and my meals accommodate such. The only meal my son shares with me is dinner, so I prefer it to be impressive, to say the least. And without interruptions.” Narcissa motioned to her right with her hand in a lax gesture of giving an order. “Go to it girl. I have not eaten all day and it is almost three.”
Ginny nodded and nearly ran to the kitchen, tears stinging her eyes. At that moment she knew why the Malfoys were notorious for their treatment of their subordinates. In that woman’s eyes Ginny was so far below her on the social scale that she didn’t even recognize her.
* * *
Blaise lead the staff through their duties. Kaenery was the maid and over all head of house. She would see that Ginny got all the supplies she needed in the kitchen as it was Ginny’s duty to provide her with a list on Sunday morning for the rest of the week. Conner, the butler, took care of guests and general house cleaning with Kaenery. While Ginny and Conner were allowed to leave after their duties were over, Kaenery was to reside on the property in a guest room. If they needed time off or a vacation Blaise would see to a temporary replacement for that time. Mrs. Malfoy had one order she had given to all three. They were not to be seen unless called for.
The pay was substantial, and wanting to impress her new boss with her culinary skills Ginny made a light and airy spinach and sun dried tomato soufflé with cream cheese and mozzarella. For the protein of the meal she sautéed prong shrimp with scallops in a pinot grigio butter sauce. She then garnished the plate with a bit of fresh rosemary and ground chipotle. At exactly three p.m. Ginny waved her wand over the dish and watched as her masterpiece disappeared in front of her. With that done Ginny began her exploration of the cabinets and cooler of the Malfoy kitchen. She smiled to herself. With everything that this place had stocked she would be able to wow her employers for months, but most especially tonight.
Ginny removed her most prized possession from her robes, a cook book that was nothing but hand written recipes. Some were her mother’s, personal favorites of Ginny. Some were a combination of things that her and Hermione had come up with, desserts, appetizers, some even just drunken girls splattering the pages with flour and wine in an attempt to make something tasty, or in the least edible. Most were her own personal creations. What she wanted to prepare tonight was one of her favorites, but very simple. From the cooler she removed about two pounds of chicken breast and began to cut it up into centimeter thick slices. When she was done she placed the chicken in a bowl and added two tablespoons of worcestershire sauce, two table spoons of Italian seasoning and one teaspoon of jerk seasoning. She tossed the chicken in the bowl until it was evenly coated with the marinate and placed a chilling spell on the bowl so that it could set successfully.
This kitchen had one accessory that Ginny absolutely adored. When she would sit and dream about her big house fantasies and how she would decorate every room, the kitchen was the only room she saw clearly. It always had a marble island in the middle great for cutting anything on a free space, but it also had the pots and pans hanging from a wire rack suspended from the ceiling. A gasp left her slightly parted red lips in utter awe. As far as she was concerned, she could live here, in this kitchen only. Ginny removed a small sauce pan from the rack and placed it on a simmering heat on the stove. She then added about a tablespoon of butter to the pan and waited for it to melt. As she did this she finely chopped green onions and mince a clove of garlic. By the time she was done with this the butter was sizzling. She added the onions and garlic and sautéed them until the onions were a dark green. She looked toward the cooler.
“Accio cream,” and then added one cup of heavy whipping cream to the mixture. She left this to simmer at the lowest possible heat. She noted that the time was already six. Taking out a package of mozzarella she cast her wand to the table to do it the good old fashioned muggle way. She began shredding the cheese. When she had about a cup full she began to add it to the cream butter sauce. Now 6:30. Sighing that she’d have to use more magic than she wished to (Ginny was a hands on sort of girl, it was something she picked up from Hermione and their cooking nights) she set a spoon to continuously stir the sauce to melt and not burn the cheese. Looking up again she picked another sauce pan, this on shallow and perfect for pan frying and searing. “Accio olive oil” and the coated the bottom of the pan with a small layer of olive oil. Setting that to medium heat she accio-ed the chicken as well. Once the oil moved smother than water over the pan she began to cook the chicken a few pieces at a time. Pan searing chicken gave a wonderful crisp texture to the poultry while locking in the moister on the inside. She checked on the sauce and smirked to herself, it was smoothing out wonderfully. Ginny then flipped the pieces of chicken and went about shredding another cup of cheese.
* * *
Draco Malfoy’s steady steps could be heard only in the immediate area so soft were his footfalls. He was familiar with his mother’s propensity to nap this time of the day and wished not to disturb her with his early return home. He noted with some interest that the furniture was cleaner than when he left and the plants his mother loved to fill the house with since his father’s imprisonment had been watered. Also, no one greeted him at the door. Blaise must have done a good job picking the new help. On his way up the stairs to his room to bathe Draco left his work robe on the resting chair. He would check to see if it had been picked up before dinner.
* * *
Ginny surveyed her handiwork. She had washed and let air dry baby spinach leaves and filled up the bottom of two small casserole dishes. On top of that she had placed the chicken and then covered it with cream sauce. Her chocolate chip cheese cake had come out of the oven thirty minutes before and she was finished preparing the apple and brown sugar dipping sauce she would be serving with the crab rangoon appetizer. With about 20 minutes left to go she topped both dishes with the extra shredded mozzarella and a light sprinkling of un salted sunflower seeds. At seven thirty on the dot she sent out the rangoon and put the chicken dish into broil so that the top cheese would turn a tasty golden brown and also reheat the entire dish. She knew Conner had set a bottle of Santa Margherita Pinot Grigio out as well as water to match the meal. The wine was one of Ginny’s favorites and she knew it matched the meal accordingly.
Watching the cheese color carefully she removed the chicken from the oven. Waving her wand and muttering a soft wingardium leviosa she transferred the ensemble to another plate. She topped the meal off with crumbled feta cheese and recalled the appetizer plates and smiled to herself when she found them both void of even the smallest crumb. Another quick wave of her wand and she sent the main course off for the Malfoy’s approval. She had been told by Kaenery to wait at least thirty minutes before serving dessert due to the fact that the mother and son spent a good bit of their time talking during their meal. Ginny couldn’t imagine what either of them had to say to each other.
“Dear, how was your hair today?”
“Fine mother, it stayed slicked back and perfect for the past twenty years, today was no different. How was your day?”
“Fine, I made the Weasley girl feel lacking by merely existing such as I do, and I brushed by hair until I fell asleep on the terrace.”
Ginny laughed at her imaginary conversation. As if those two had anything of merit to say to one another.
* * *
“Have you heard from your father? The new minister has pushed to let prisoners send out owls to members of their family as long as they are previewed by an auror first.”
Draco tried to keep the look of disgust from appearing on his face at the mention of his father. Spending these past two years with out his presence since Voldemort’s demise had actually been quite pleasant for Draco. No longer in his father’s shadow he had taken control of many of the Malfoy business and made them more lucrative than his father ever could have hoped for. His only regret was protecting his mother from all his father’s deeds. If he had let her know from the start his father’s true role in the darker parts of the war she wouldn’t still have him on a pedestal the way she did.
He sighed, “No, mother, I have not heard from father. I’m sure he is quite busy in Azkaban.”
Narcissa rolled her eyes, “What, pray tell, do you think he does Draco? Twiddle his thumbs and sing ‘I’m a little tea pot?’”
“Particularly good dinner, don’t you agree mother? Who is out new cook again?”
“Very well, my dear, I will drop the subject for now. I didn’t catch her name, but she seem young, too young if you ask me. Very nondescript in her clothing. And shy, wouldn’t truly meet my eye. I almost told Blaise to send her back but he said she was a family friend of his mother’s. I wonder who, though.”
Draco noticed the look of emptiness in his mother’s eyes. She got this way when she was reminiscing about her life before his father. He know Blaise’s mother and his had been friends at Hogwarts, but besides that his mother never mentioned any other old acquaintances. He knew he would have to ask Blaise for more information, or he could go right to the chef and ask her himself. Just then his empty dinner plate disappeared and was replaced with the most succulent dessert he had ever seen. This woman had managed to combine his two loves…. cheesecake and chocolate. The white square plate the slice sat on was adorned with chocolate syrup stripes and accented with raspberries. His wine had been replaced with a cappuccino and a glass of iced milk. Slowly, as if afraid to disturb the peaceful picture in front of him Draco delicately broke the top layer of his cheesecake with his dessert spoon and raised the bite to his mouth. Almighty Merlin, it was still warm. He risked a glance across the table to his mother. Her eyes were closed with absolute bliss. He knew that was the end of talk of his father tonight. He also knew he was going to meet to the cook as soon as he was done.
* 2 *
Ginny sat in her favorite chair gazing out the snowy window. Christmas was upon them and she had already survived her first two months at the Malfoy’s. On her first day she had left early to appease Hermione’s continuous flooing the kitchen fireplace to check on her. She hadn’t realized the Malfoy’s dined that late and her flat mate was worried. Although she had sworn Hermione to secrecy as to her occupation she knew she would worry about her. She was at Malfoy Manor for Merlin’s sake! Just by the grace of her worried friend she had narrowly avoid a ferret sighting as she later joked to Hermione. Kaenery informed her the next day that the ‘young mister Malfoy’ had sought her out. He requested that she bake the cheesecake once a week at least. This brought a great deal of pride to Ginny.
Today was her off day. Technically. On Sunday morning all Ginny had to do was drop off her supply list to Kaenery and prep the food for the day. Usually for dinner she made a refrigerated desert the night before and the rest was bake and send. She gave Kaenery cooking lessons on Saturday nights and the two women usually enjoyed some wine and laughter while Ginny explained a few tricks that made some things come along simpler and tastier than traditional methods. As a result Kaenery cooked Sunday breakfast while Ginny explained how to set out dinner. The woman was a powerhouse and reminded her much of her own mother at home taking care of a house full of children and one decidedly flighty husband. She had, to Ginny’s dismay, not been at the Manor today. Conner said a family emergency occurred and she would be gone for the remainder of the week. He would be stepping in her position in the mean time and was fine to let Ginny continue to have her Sunday off. She also let Conner have Wednesdays off since it was the day the Malfoy home was the quietest. All in all Ginny was satisfied with her job. Her few objections to being placed in Malfoy Manor were smoothed over by Blaise. After assuring her that past the first day she would have little to no contact with the family he had also told her that Draco wouldn’t even recognize her should their paths cross. Then he made a very strategic move, he stroked her ego.
“The truth is, Ms. Weasley, no one else who applied is as qualified for the job as you are.”
Ginny smiled at the memory. I was nice to be told that you were the most qualified, even if the position was as a personal chef to the Malfoy family.
The sound of a creaking door jarred Ginny from her thoughts. Hermione made her way into the study and seated herself in the chair across from Ginny.
“How’s work?”
“Great. Ditto to you?”
Hermione shifted in her chair, “Still no luck. No one will hire me. I am Miss Hermione Granger, the witch who dispersed the house elves. I can’t go anywhere without being hexed, or at least being yelled at. I’m considering taking a muggle holiday.”
Ginny nearly did a double take at this. A muggle holiday was something she and her friend often joked about, getting a flat in London and partying down until the sun came up or later. It was just that, a joke. Unfortunately Ginny could see from the stress lines that had taken residence on her friend’s face all the drama was getting to her. Maybe it would be for the best.
“So how long are you going to be gone for? Until this whole house elf thing blows over?”
“Yeah. I know it’s very un-Gryffindor of me, but there’s a difference between bravery and just being fed up. I’m at the end of my tether with this Ginny. Any more and I may just snap one day and hex a room full of people with elf ears.”
“Are you going to tell Harry before you leave?”
Hermione’s answer was so low Ginny had to strain to hear it.
“I haven’t spoken to him since he moved in with Ron.”
“Translation being since he moved out. Bloody hell, Hermione, what happened between the two of you? I’ve asked my brother and he said two people as close as you and he were shouldn’t live together but they do just fine and so do we. Harry changes the subject whenever I bring up your name and you’re no better, what’s the big secret that I can’t know?”
“I made a mistake, a big one, and we need time.” Hermione sighed, her eyes closing as a bitter smile crossed her lips. “If even time is enough to fix it.”
Ginny knew she had gotten as far as she could on the subject, but it was further than she had gotten before. About four months prior Hermione had showed up at the Burrow with an offer Ginny could not refuse. Harry had moved out and she was in need of a flat mate, pronto. Ginny jumped on the offer only to find out later from her brother that Harry had moved out not from the pressures of living with a girl (as Ginny had figured, bras and hair stuff everywhere would drive any guy nutters) but because he and Hermione had a fight. A big one. One that Ron didn’t even know the reason of. Harry refused, although very politely, any attempts Ginny made to have him over, and Hermione wouldn’t visit Ron at home, instead met him out for lunch twice a week to catch up. They were at a stalemate, neither former roomies would budge.
“You can’t leave yet, we have to have one last weekend, you and me, a night with the girls. Saturday, we’ll go to a muggle club in city that no one will know us at. We’ll rent a room and get insanely sloshed and sleep it off there. We can go just after I get off of work, I’ll even bring my clothes with me and meet you there.”
Hermione perked up a little. “Sounds great. I can endure five more days of hiding in shadows.”
* * *
Draco made his way to the kitchen strait from coming home from work. Monday was always a bad day, he had the weekend’s profits from the Malfoy businesses to review and reports to turn in. The only thought that had seen him through his hectic day was cheesecake, more precisely the one he could have made for him fresh at home. With his mother on vacation to visit her family (some distant cousin whose saving grace was a villa in the south of France) he had no need for a formal dinner. Just cheesecake, and lots of it. Narcissa had flooed him shortly after four to inform him that she was leaving, a last minute decision. A week, or a few more, without his mother in the house was Draco’s idea of a vacation. He was near vomiting with her constant requests to write his father. When ever he would broach why she wouldn’t write her own husband, why did he have to do it, she would stammer off into something about ‘not having the proper words.’ Whatever those were. Draco’s musing were soon interrupted by a sight he never expected to see in his house, or anywhere else, when he opened the kitchen door.
There was a woman, not a child the way his mother had described her. On the counter was an odd shaped sort of thing with buttons and dials everywhere that was emitting music into the room. Music the woman was dancing to. Her red hair hung down her back in waves to the top of her arse, swaying with her movement. He had never seen a chef move like this. Dressed in a short black skirt and a loose fitting black sweater the woman moved in tune with the music, in one hand she held a whisk which she used as a microphone to sing into. Draco was mesmerized my her curvy trim legs that were fully on display.
“I’m feeling sexy, I wanna hear you say my name, boy.” She turned to face him, her eyes closed, she dipped down to the floor and raised herself in timing with the tempo. She turned around again and this time Draco could see a flash of a tight stomach and delicately curved waist from the slight lifting of the top. His breath caught in his throat. She was familiar, but Draco couldn’t place her.
“If you can reach me, you can feel my burning flame,” at this she turned around again. This time her eyes were completely open.
Shocked, Ginny dropped the whisk, her mouth frozen in an O of horror. Then, as if she had evaluated the situation and thought better of her present stance, stood up strait, smiled, and reached her hand out to shake his.
“Pleased to meet you Mr. Malfoy, I am your chef, Ginny Weasley.”
If a pin would have dropped in the room at that moment it would have been heard across the entire house had it not been for the music from the button and dial music maker.
“I want cheesecake for dinner. And milk. And coffee. My mother will not be here. Um, chocolate cheesecake. Warm, um, understood?”
Ginny flashed him a dazzling smile and once again for the second time in five minutes he found it difficult to breathe. “What ever you desire Mr. Malfoy. Anything else you wish me to prepare for you?” Ginny placed a look of mock obedience on her face, her mind racing a kilometer a minute. She needed this job and he hated her family.
Draco looked around the kitchen. He focused on the button thingie.
“Turn that off, it will distract you while you make my cheesecake.”
Ginny smiled, “Of course. Your dessert will be ready in little over an hour,” and she turned around to continue what she was doing in between her singing and dancing. A slightly bewildered Draco left the kitchen feeling as if he had just been dismissed from a from in his own house. Walking down the hallway he paused mid-step as a sudden realization hit him. With a loud crack he was gone from his house one second and in the next standing in front of Blaise Zabini.
* * *
Blaise looked up from his desk to see his very irate cousin. He smiled a wide mischievous smile.
“I see you have discovered Ms. Weasley’s employment at your humble abode.”
Draco looked about ready to breathe fire.
“What were you thinking? Hiring a Weasley to work for me, to stay over long periods of time at my house, to prepare my food! ”
“You did once say that she was the only not completely hopeless spawn of the Weasley gene pool, if I remember correctly, in our seventh year no less. I didn’t think you’d completely find fault in my decision. Besides, the witch is a near goddess in the kitchen, or do you disagree?” Blaise raised one eyebrow questioningly as he tried desperately to keep the mirth from his face. His cousin right now was truly priceless.
“You did this on purpose, as a joke, to torment me? I wager you think you were so clever doing this, has your little prank played out as well as you hoped?”
“Even better. Revenge, a dish best served cold. In your case you get mine with a side of asparagus topped with béarnaise sauce.”
For a moment Draco looked perplexed. Then realization hit him. “You cannot be serious, for that?”
Blaise smiled, triumph gleaming in his eyes.
“Yes, dear cousin, for that.”
* * *
Ginny cut the cake into eighths separating individual slices by a mere inch still forming a circle. In between each slice she placed one raspberry and filled in the remaining emptiness with chocolate shavings. She grinned mischievously at her work. From what she remembered of ferret boy from her Hogwarts days his sweet tooth was like an obsession to him. Her first few weeks she had been touch and go to her regarding her employment, but now she felt stable. She was sure Malfoy would justify employing her in his head as she was his inferior on the social ladder, but as long as her salary did not decrease she was not moving. Ginny loved her job.
The godfather clock in the den could be heard in every room of the house. At the chime of seven thirty Ginny waved her wand over the cake and watched as it disappeared along with the milk and coffee, both cups magically charmed to refill the moment the glass became level.
Monday. A long week ahead of her where she would only be cooking for Malfoy according to Conner. Maybe longer if Narcissa saw fit to stay in France. Ginny caught the thoughts in her mind for a minute and wondered why she was so comfortable calling Narcissa by her first name and Malfoy by, well Malfoy (or ferret boy). Her brief run in with the matriarch was rude and condescending in tone, her moment with Malfoy was him stammering in pure shock where Ginny knew she had the upper hand. She smiled to herself, her mind went to what she was doing at the time. It wasn’t the first time in the last hour she had wondered if it was her being a Weasley that had unsettled him, or the display he had walked in on. She had just gotten off the floo network with Hermione about their night out Saturday and was in a dancing mood. She had been told on more than forty occasions about her moves, a few times by non partial (homosexual) witnesses and had every confidence that she was desirable.
Blaise had already told her Narcissa said she would ‘famish to nothing and a dull bronzed knut’ if she did not gain substance on from non other than the wunderkind girl cook. Ginny was curious, was she able to push the limits of a Malfoy, one young male one unparticular.
* * *
Draco could not touch the cheese cake. He tried. His fork had grazed it’s edges, peeled away a small layer of warm creaminess. Her hands had made it. What bothered him was not the usual ‘Oh, muggle loving Weasley hands‘, he had gotten over that long ago when he was not constantly faced with the amazing trio every day. It was the same hands he had seen skim up her sides as she sang and slightly twitched her hips with the music. Not so much a twist, he mused, as a sway, her small waist rotating in unison with the outward curve her hips made with the dip of her legs. He then remembered Blaise’s parting advice to him:
“Get over yourself and get over what you expect her to be. You may be surprised. If you decide to keep your head firmly implanted up your arse, please refrain from making her life hell. She’s above you, and she’s certainly above the position she keeps in your house.”
Draco picked up the cake plate and walked to the kitchen. In the back corner of his mind he hoped to find her dancing, but then he’d have to berate her for disobeying him. What he found was her perched on the counter with her legs crossed at her knees, the damnable skirt bunched at the apex of her legs revealing more leg than was proper in his kitchen, or anywhere else in his house. Ginny looked to him and quirked a delicately arched cinnamon colored eyebrow.
“I tried to recall the plate but nothing happened. Was something remiss with your, um, ‘dinner’?”
“I’m not used to eating alone, at least not here. I’ll finish later when I find it convenient.”
Ginny nodded, a smirk on her lips. “When you have company? If you have a dinner guest at any time other than your mother let me know and I can whip up a ravishing meal. I do an excellent job with crème brulee. It would be advantageous to you to make a display of licking the spoon in such an event.”
She was flirting. He knew it.
Draco stepped up to her , his eyes locked into hers and without preamble let the plate fall to the counter. Neither flinched when the sharp sound of porcelain meeting marble rudely disturbed the silence of the room.
“That would be nice for tomorrow night, I will be having a guest. Please dress accordingly.”
Draco left the kitchen, a certain lazy grace accented his walk, the sway of his body and legs.
Ginny wondered what he looked like when he danced, if he ever danced. Then it hit her…
Dress accordingly?
* * *
Seven thirty on the mark she sent the appetizer out, two small plates of shrimp almandine made with extra amaretto to appeal to Malfoy’s sweet palate. Ten minutes later when she recalled the plates they were both untouched. More than just a bit perplexed Ginny let out a frustrated growl. She knew the shrimp were perfect, she had tasted them herself to be sure. Taking both plates in hand she made a bee line for the dinning hall, her three inch heels making angry echoes sound through the hall. She could see a faint light flickering through the open door. Sealing herself against his sure insults (had he set this up to insult her in front of a guest?) she stepped through the door.
Ginny was confused.
Draco was the lone occupant of the room. Reclining in his usual chair he had the airs of a king, or at least a brat prince. With an almost bored sigh Malfoy gestured to the chair across from him.
“I’ve been waiting. Sit.”
Not knowing what else to do, Ginny sat in the suggested chair. Conner came from the shadows somewhere behind her and took the shrimp out of her hands and placed one plate in front of her and the other in front of his employer. Already poured in a crystal balloon glasses was a canary tinted white wine. Malfoy lifted his glass and took a sip.
“Fine choice, I assumed it’s one of yours, it’s not one that was kept in stock here previous to your employment. Use it to cook much?”
“Not really, more of a suggestion.” Oh Merlin, was Draco Ferret Boy Malfoy really making small talk with her?
“Thank you for dressing appropriately for dinner. Do you always wear black?”
“Having red hair it’s difficult to find a color to suit me. White does well, but not in winter, I seem to get washed out with all the snow wherever I go.”
Draco looked her over, from the crown of her head to her stomach, which was the last thing available to his perusal. She wore a flowing black dress that had a high neck and empire waist line. Classic, not dramatic as his mother usually chose to dress for their dinners. Her hair was in a tight twist at the nape of her neck and she wore no makeup. Adult hood had done Ginny Weasley well, her high cheek bones held a healthy blush (probably from her earlier anger), and where as in Hogwarts her face had always held that innocent child look with a cherub mouth and wide eyes those features had matured with the loss of baby fat to a woman’s face. How his mother could have ever mistaken her for a child was beyond him.
Ginny refused to shrink under his assessment of her. Instead she returned the favor. Draco’s pale looks were complimented by his white button dress shirt. His hair was cut short and fell in soft waves about his brow. Even relaxing as he was he still managed to look aristocratic. The most unnerving thing about him were his eyes, a gray that bordered on silver, but she could almost hear him snicker at her description ‘Platinum Weasley, silver is below a Malfoy.’
“How did you learn to cook?”
Small talk again.
“My mother mostly. Being the only girl we are really close. She would show me all kinds of tricks and her special cook books and recipes she only used on holidays. Eventually I started to experiment myself with different things. I also would sneak down to Hogwarts kitchens and have the house elves teach me their technique. When Fleur married Bill she suggested I apprentice at Le Martinque, her brother’s place, under him. That’s about it.”
“Your don’t cook like that place. I’ve eaten there a few times on business. Your style is a little more, what’s the word I’m searching for? Eclectic. The chef there tended to stay with one genre of food.”
“I like to experiment. Boredom does strange things to you when all you have at your disposal is a large kitchen and everything a chef could ever desire at her fingertips.”
Draco smiled, accepting her compliment. A warm sensation settled in Ginny’s stomach. Why was he being so accommodating, so bloody charming?
“Do you miss the energy of working there? You must have fits of lethargy here.”
“I prefer this. I don’t feel stifled. Are were going to eat, this warming charm won’t last forever.”
“By all means, I’ve been waiting for you to get started.”
* * *
They ate their meal with small topics of conversation keeping the mood pleasant. He asked of her opinion on new witch dress robe fashions (not risqué enough, she liked the muggle trends as of late) and she inquired of his busy schedule and if he ever get any weekends off (he was away on weekends checking on businesses in lower Britain, and his ministry work kept him busy during the week). The main course was a pan fried redfish served with lump crab meat covered in white wine cream sauce and grilled asparagus. Ginny had asked Conner to fetch her wand from the kitchen and she conjured up the dishes for them when they were done with the shrimp. Draco was impressed, she clarified her proficiency with apparation of food came from the Hogwarts house elves.
Dessert was crème brulee as promised. When the dessert appeared the top did a small sizzle as flame magically erupted.
“Once again, much impressed. I suppose you had it charmed to do that on appearance?”
She blushed, his compliments on her skills more than she was used to. “Of course, how else could it be as perfect as I claimed?”
After dinner Ginny rose from her seat and Draco rose with her. The gentlemanly manner was not lost on Ginny but she felt out of place with it. This behavior was not what she expected from him.
“Will you join me tomorrow? I don’t wish to eat alone when I don’t have to. I enjoyed your company.”
If anyone else had been making the request but him Ginny would have complied. She was about to tell him no when he said something that stopped her.
“Please.”
Not a question, a statement. Just a way of making his request more polite. Ginny nodded and left to clean the rest of the kitchen. It would be an interesting week.
As pleasant as the conversation was Ginny was feeling uncomfortable. She had gotten over her ‘ferret boy complex’ as Hermione called it and now was taking in an assessment of him. Draco was attractive. When he smiled, which seemed to be often, Ginny blushed. When she went on a passionate tangent of her preference (usually cooking, music, or her discussions with Hermione on house elves) he listened. Not the polite nodding of his head and agreeing at the right spots, but he actually listened to her, making valid points and observations of her opinions when she was done. He was equally passionate about his businesses, feeling that they were the only way to save the Malfoy family name from the tarnish his father had placed on it. Ginny was enthralled. She learned that Narcissa didn’t know the extent of his father’s crimes and on the whole believed Lucius was framed.
Ginny was beginning to care. The Draco she was getting to know was different from the hateful child she had known at Hogwarts. Still arrogant and vain, but somehow his edges were softer. Ginny was seeing him as human.
It was on their forth dinner together that she told him she could not dine with him anymore. Her excuse was that the dinners were not ‘professional’.