D/G Feast story (sorta): Imperfect Interlude
While Feast judging has not yet been completed (one of our judges is ill, so please send lots of good vibes her way), we do have a story for you to read. This story was not submitted for the contest, but was written for fun, following the D/G Feast guidelines.
Hopefully, our last judge will recover in good health very quickly, and we'll be able to tabulate the final results soon. In the meanwhile, please enjoy...
Title: Imperfect Interlude
Author: jade_okelani
Rating: PG
Recipe: Homestyle Mac 'n Cheese
Notes: This is set in the universe I created in Past Imperfect. I swear, I'm going to finish that fic, but in the meantime, I thought I would have a little fun w/the D/G Feast contest, since I didn't have a real entry. This is much like it would have looked.
Summary: Someone in the Faux Malfoy family is sick.
Title: Imperfect Interlude
Author: Jade Okelani
Email: jadeokelani@gmail.com
Rating: PG
Notes: This is set in the universe I created in Past Imperfect. I swear, I'm going to finish that fic, but in the meantime, I thought I would have a little fun w/the D/G Feast contest, since I didn't have a real entry. This is much like it would have looked. Recipe for Homestyle Mac 'n Cheese found at end of fic.
Thanks: To Sarea, for the beta as usual, and her always sunny disposition.
Summary: Someone in the Faux Malfoy family is sick.
~
Imperfect Interlude
by Jade Okelani
~
More than anything else in the world, Ginny hated having a cold.
The wizarding world was incredibly adept at fighting off sickness, but even the most ingenious potions took around twenty-four hours to work at full potency, and at least ten hours before that to brew, which meant even the cleverest of witches still ended up feeling dreadful for a day or so. They were also the sort of potions that couldn't be kept long after they were brewed, which meant the popular apothecaries couldn't sell them already brewed.
This was why Ginny did everything she could imagine to keep from getting sick, or to keep her loved ones from getting sick. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure, her father used to say (one of the many Muggle euphemisms he routinely butchered; Ginny was positive he'd gotten that one wrong, as well; ounces and pounds, indeed), and so Ginny, when she saw someone coughing, would discreetly move to the other side of the room, or avoid a trash bin a sick person had just been standing beside, or keep out of drafty rooms.
The latter, of course, was rather unnecessary, as everyone knew you couldn't catch a cold from being in the cold, but Ginny was superstitious as ever, and liked to bundle herself and Lydia up more than was necessary and keep them both inside during the winter as much as possible, making sure the temperature was constantly maintained by house-elves so that there was no chance of dramatic changes back and forth in temperature, or excessive dampness, which was a breeding ground for germs.
Lydia, for her part, rarely got sick. She'd had a cold twice over the course of her entire life, and she'd never had any sort of childhood disease. Ginny knew she was blessed to have such a healthy child, but the downside of it all was that she was completely unprepared for the Herculean task that currently lay before her.
"Just keep making food," the disembodied head of Molly Weasley advised from the fireplace. "Starve a fever, feed a cold. Or is it feed a fever, starve a cold? Oh, your father would have remembered it, always memorizing those Muggle sayings... well anyhow, it's all rubbish, everyone knows you should feed any sort of ailment out there."
"Right, Mum," Ginny said. She hadn't really been listening for the past twenty minutes.
A dish of macaroni and cheese was baking in the oven, and a meatloaf, a pot of her mother's special recipe mashed potatoes, and several dessert pies had already been laid out on the counter. The pies were for incentive: only well people were allowed to eat pie.
"-even listening to me, Ginevra Molly Weasley?"
"Of course." Ginny affected an outraged tone. "It's just that I'm doing ten things at once, Mum. It's a lot of work, taking care of a difficult-"
"Say no more, dear, say no more," Molly muttered. "Very well, I'll let you go. Love to Lydia."
They exchanged goodbyes and Molly's head evaporated from the fireplace. Ginny took out a breakfast tray and began to arrange a variety of foods on it. She placed a cup of tea and a vase holding a carnation as a final touch, then picked up the whole affair and carried it toward the master bedroom.
"...and then the Princess Gertrude killed all the trolls with her mighty blade, and Prince Phineus, who was the very first wizard, fashioned the very first wand from a piece of driftwood lying on the beach and cast a great spell over the entire kingdom. The trolls and giants were driven out of the land and Princess Gertrude and Prince Phineus lived happily ever after."
"Lydia," Ginny said in a warning tone.
Lydia snapped her head up guiltily. "Yes, mother?"
"Where have I expressly forbidden you to be?"
"In the quarantine room."
"And where are you sitting right now?"
"In the quarantine room."
"Yes, do you see the problem I'm having?"
"Oh for God's sake," an irritated voice grumbled from the bed, "you're going to turn her into one of those bloody 'germ-o-phobes' if you don't calm the fuck down."
"Do not curse in front of her," Ginny hissed.
"I know the word 'fuck,'" Lydia happily announced. "Jordan Perryweather says it loads of times in tumbling class."
"Jordan Perryweather." Ginny stared straight at the man in the bed. "Is this what the higher, pre-Hogwarts education you promised is good for? Cursing and learning how to disobey mothers?"
"Yes," Draco said with a cough, "it's what all the educational professionals say is key to child development." He sniffed. "Is that macaroni and cheese?"
"And mashed potatoes," Lydia said. "It's a family recipe."
"Your cold potion is brewing," Ginny added stiffly. "Not that you deserve it, making an innocent child entertain you in such a state."
"I wanted to finish the story." Lydia's voice was quiet. "We've been reading it all this week, and I really wanted to finish, and Draco said that if I wanted, I could do it on my own, but I wanted us to finish it together because when you start something with someone, you ought to finish it the same way, shouldn't you, Mum?"
Ginny opened and closed her mouth twice, then sighed. "Yes," she said with great reluctance, "yes, of course, you're quite right. Did you like the story, then?"
"It was incredible," Lydia breathed. "There's ten more in the series, too! Draco, you must get better soon so that you can read them. He does the funny voices, Mum."
"I do not," Draco denied vehemently, though he wouldn't meet Ginny's eyes.
Her ire somewhat dissipated by how genuinely sick Draco looked, she set the tray beside him on the bed and set about fluffing his pillows and making sure he was comfortable. There were things, she supposed, that even a fake wife should attend to.
Lydia was reluctant to leave, and Ginny supposed it was silly to make her; she was worried about someone who'd become a bizarrely integral part of their lives, and Ginny couldn't blame her for it. Draco was actually quite wonderful with Lydia, attentive and patient in ways Ginny would never have imagined a Malfoy being. Lydia was beginning to adore him.
Ginny worried that she herself might not be far behind.
Regardless, Ginny made mental note to brew some of the extra potion; it would keep for a few days, at least, and then she'd be prepared if Lydia fell ill while breathing deeply with the exertion of reading in this germ-infested nightmare.
"Oh stop it," Draco said disturbingly from the bed, and Ginny suspected, not for the first time, that he had the power to read minds.
"Hullo?" a voice called out from the living room.
"Oh, sweetie, that'll be Uncle Fred calling from Germany. Be a dear, go and talk to him while I make sure Draco's settled."
"Okay," Lydia said happily, and as she left the room, Ginny was so grateful to Fred she would have kissed him if he were here.
"You're a wreck," Draco pronounced, though his words were slurred so it came out more 'you're all wet,' but Ginny was certain he couldn't have meant that.
"I am not," Ginny said smartly.
"You are," Draco argued. "You worry about every hair on her head, and you can't do it, Gin. Kids lose hairs all the time. They're probably scattered all over the world, just little hairs that have come off of kids' heads because they've been cut off, or fallen out, or torn, or... you know, chewed on, because children like to chew their own hair, dreadful little monsters."
"You're delirious."
"Be that as it may, you, Ginny Weasley Faux Malfoy, are a worry wart."
"Take it back right now!"
"Can't take back the truth," Draco sang happily, then sobered. "But I think it's sweet that you're a worry wart. Mums should be, you know. God knows my mum wasn't. As long as she kept me in chocolate, she was perfectly happy to let me fend for myself. Father said it built character, you know. Mum hated it when he said that. Come to think of it, Mum hated it when he said just about anything."
"Yes, well," Ginny said uncomfortably. The subject of Draco's parents was one she had broached many years before, only to be firmly and rather coldly rebuffed. That he was speaking of them so openly now had to be a side effect of his sickness, and she'd hate for him to feel upset about it later. She noticed he'd eaten and drank about as much as he was going to, and seized on the excuse. "I'd best get out of here, let you get some rest."
She'd just begun packing up the dishes and stacking them on the tray when his hand reached out and wrapped around her wrist. She looked at him, startled, then realized she was even more startled at the look in his eyes.
"You're a good fake wife," he said warmly. "The best I could have hoped for."
Absurdly, she felt like bursting into tears. Instead, she forced a warm smile and brought her other hand around to cover his.
"And you're a very decent fake husband," she added. "Certainly better than I'd ever imagined."
That seemed to make him happy, because he smiled a little as he closed his eyes. He was asleep within seconds.
Ginny, who did not have the luxury of a fever of a hundred and four to knock her out, lay in bed all night awake, staring at the ceiling, and thinking of what her fake wedding to Draco would have been like.
~
Homestyle Macaroni and Cheese Recipe
Pour the macaroni mixture into the prepared casserole dish. Top with the remaining cheese then sprinkle with the paprika. Bake the macaroni and cheese casserole in the 350° oven for 1 hour or until topping is nicely browned.
Macaroni and cheese recipe serves 4.
Hopefully, our last judge will recover in good health very quickly, and we'll be able to tabulate the final results soon. In the meanwhile, please enjoy...
Title: Imperfect Interlude
Author: jade_okelani
Rating: PG
Recipe: Homestyle Mac 'n Cheese
Notes: This is set in the universe I created in Past Imperfect. I swear, I'm going to finish that fic, but in the meantime, I thought I would have a little fun w/the D/G Feast contest, since I didn't have a real entry. This is much like it would have looked.
Summary: Someone in the Faux Malfoy family is sick.
Title: Imperfect Interlude
Author: Jade Okelani
Email: jadeokelani@gmail.com
Rating: PG
Notes: This is set in the universe I created in Past Imperfect. I swear, I'm going to finish that fic, but in the meantime, I thought I would have a little fun w/the D/G Feast contest, since I didn't have a real entry. This is much like it would have looked. Recipe for Homestyle Mac 'n Cheese found at end of fic.
Thanks: To Sarea, for the beta as usual, and her always sunny disposition.
Summary: Someone in the Faux Malfoy family is sick.
~
Imperfect Interlude
by Jade Okelani
~
More than anything else in the world, Ginny hated having a cold.
The wizarding world was incredibly adept at fighting off sickness, but even the most ingenious potions took around twenty-four hours to work at full potency, and at least ten hours before that to brew, which meant even the cleverest of witches still ended up feeling dreadful for a day or so. They were also the sort of potions that couldn't be kept long after they were brewed, which meant the popular apothecaries couldn't sell them already brewed.
This was why Ginny did everything she could imagine to keep from getting sick, or to keep her loved ones from getting sick. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure, her father used to say (one of the many Muggle euphemisms he routinely butchered; Ginny was positive he'd gotten that one wrong, as well; ounces and pounds, indeed), and so Ginny, when she saw someone coughing, would discreetly move to the other side of the room, or avoid a trash bin a sick person had just been standing beside, or keep out of drafty rooms.
The latter, of course, was rather unnecessary, as everyone knew you couldn't catch a cold from being in the cold, but Ginny was superstitious as ever, and liked to bundle herself and Lydia up more than was necessary and keep them both inside during the winter as much as possible, making sure the temperature was constantly maintained by house-elves so that there was no chance of dramatic changes back and forth in temperature, or excessive dampness, which was a breeding ground for germs.
Lydia, for her part, rarely got sick. She'd had a cold twice over the course of her entire life, and she'd never had any sort of childhood disease. Ginny knew she was blessed to have such a healthy child, but the downside of it all was that she was completely unprepared for the Herculean task that currently lay before her.
"Just keep making food," the disembodied head of Molly Weasley advised from the fireplace. "Starve a fever, feed a cold. Or is it feed a fever, starve a cold? Oh, your father would have remembered it, always memorizing those Muggle sayings... well anyhow, it's all rubbish, everyone knows you should feed any sort of ailment out there."
"Right, Mum," Ginny said. She hadn't really been listening for the past twenty minutes.
A dish of macaroni and cheese was baking in the oven, and a meatloaf, a pot of her mother's special recipe mashed potatoes, and several dessert pies had already been laid out on the counter. The pies were for incentive: only well people were allowed to eat pie.
"-even listening to me, Ginevra Molly Weasley?"
"Of course." Ginny affected an outraged tone. "It's just that I'm doing ten things at once, Mum. It's a lot of work, taking care of a difficult-"
"Say no more, dear, say no more," Molly muttered. "Very well, I'll let you go. Love to Lydia."
They exchanged goodbyes and Molly's head evaporated from the fireplace. Ginny took out a breakfast tray and began to arrange a variety of foods on it. She placed a cup of tea and a vase holding a carnation as a final touch, then picked up the whole affair and carried it toward the master bedroom.
"...and then the Princess Gertrude killed all the trolls with her mighty blade, and Prince Phineus, who was the very first wizard, fashioned the very first wand from a piece of driftwood lying on the beach and cast a great spell over the entire kingdom. The trolls and giants were driven out of the land and Princess Gertrude and Prince Phineus lived happily ever after."
"Lydia," Ginny said in a warning tone.
Lydia snapped her head up guiltily. "Yes, mother?"
"Where have I expressly forbidden you to be?"
"In the quarantine room."
"And where are you sitting right now?"
"In the quarantine room."
"Yes, do you see the problem I'm having?"
"Oh for God's sake," an irritated voice grumbled from the bed, "you're going to turn her into one of those bloody 'germ-o-phobes' if you don't calm the fuck down."
"Do not curse in front of her," Ginny hissed.
"I know the word 'fuck,'" Lydia happily announced. "Jordan Perryweather says it loads of times in tumbling class."
"Jordan Perryweather." Ginny stared straight at the man in the bed. "Is this what the higher, pre-Hogwarts education you promised is good for? Cursing and learning how to disobey mothers?"
"Yes," Draco said with a cough, "it's what all the educational professionals say is key to child development." He sniffed. "Is that macaroni and cheese?"
"And mashed potatoes," Lydia said. "It's a family recipe."
"Your cold potion is brewing," Ginny added stiffly. "Not that you deserve it, making an innocent child entertain you in such a state."
"I wanted to finish the story." Lydia's voice was quiet. "We've been reading it all this week, and I really wanted to finish, and Draco said that if I wanted, I could do it on my own, but I wanted us to finish it together because when you start something with someone, you ought to finish it the same way, shouldn't you, Mum?"
Ginny opened and closed her mouth twice, then sighed. "Yes," she said with great reluctance, "yes, of course, you're quite right. Did you like the story, then?"
"It was incredible," Lydia breathed. "There's ten more in the series, too! Draco, you must get better soon so that you can read them. He does the funny voices, Mum."
"I do not," Draco denied vehemently, though he wouldn't meet Ginny's eyes.
Her ire somewhat dissipated by how genuinely sick Draco looked, she set the tray beside him on the bed and set about fluffing his pillows and making sure he was comfortable. There were things, she supposed, that even a fake wife should attend to.
Lydia was reluctant to leave, and Ginny supposed it was silly to make her; she was worried about someone who'd become a bizarrely integral part of their lives, and Ginny couldn't blame her for it. Draco was actually quite wonderful with Lydia, attentive and patient in ways Ginny would never have imagined a Malfoy being. Lydia was beginning to adore him.
Ginny worried that she herself might not be far behind.
Regardless, Ginny made mental note to brew some of the extra potion; it would keep for a few days, at least, and then she'd be prepared if Lydia fell ill while breathing deeply with the exertion of reading in this germ-infested nightmare.
"Oh stop it," Draco said disturbingly from the bed, and Ginny suspected, not for the first time, that he had the power to read minds.
"Hullo?" a voice called out from the living room.
"Oh, sweetie, that'll be Uncle Fred calling from Germany. Be a dear, go and talk to him while I make sure Draco's settled."
"Okay," Lydia said happily, and as she left the room, Ginny was so grateful to Fred she would have kissed him if he were here.
"You're a wreck," Draco pronounced, though his words were slurred so it came out more 'you're all wet,' but Ginny was certain he couldn't have meant that.
"I am not," Ginny said smartly.
"You are," Draco argued. "You worry about every hair on her head, and you can't do it, Gin. Kids lose hairs all the time. They're probably scattered all over the world, just little hairs that have come off of kids' heads because they've been cut off, or fallen out, or torn, or... you know, chewed on, because children like to chew their own hair, dreadful little monsters."
"You're delirious."
"Be that as it may, you, Ginny Weasley Faux Malfoy, are a worry wart."
"Take it back right now!"
"Can't take back the truth," Draco sang happily, then sobered. "But I think it's sweet that you're a worry wart. Mums should be, you know. God knows my mum wasn't. As long as she kept me in chocolate, she was perfectly happy to let me fend for myself. Father said it built character, you know. Mum hated it when he said that. Come to think of it, Mum hated it when he said just about anything."
"Yes, well," Ginny said uncomfortably. The subject of Draco's parents was one she had broached many years before, only to be firmly and rather coldly rebuffed. That he was speaking of them so openly now had to be a side effect of his sickness, and she'd hate for him to feel upset about it later. She noticed he'd eaten and drank about as much as he was going to, and seized on the excuse. "I'd best get out of here, let you get some rest."
She'd just begun packing up the dishes and stacking them on the tray when his hand reached out and wrapped around her wrist. She looked at him, startled, then realized she was even more startled at the look in his eyes.
"You're a good fake wife," he said warmly. "The best I could have hoped for."
Absurdly, she felt like bursting into tears. Instead, she forced a warm smile and brought her other hand around to cover his.
"And you're a very decent fake husband," she added. "Certainly better than I'd ever imagined."
That seemed to make him happy, because he smiled a little as he closed his eyes. He was asleep within seconds.
Ginny, who did not have the luxury of a fever of a hundred and four to knock her out, lay in bed all night awake, staring at the ceiling, and thinking of what her fake wedding to Draco would have been like.
~
Homestyle Macaroni and Cheese Recipe
- 8 ounces elbow macaroni or assorted, pasta (2 cups)
- 1 tablespoon butter, room temperature
- 1 egg, well beaten
- 1 teaspoon dry mustard
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1/8 teaspoon nutmeg
- 1 tablespoon boiling water
- 1 cup milk
- 3 cups sharp cheddar cheese, 12 oz
- 1/4 cup onion, grated
- paprika
Pour the macaroni mixture into the prepared casserole dish. Top with the remaining cheese then sprinkle with the paprika. Bake the macaroni and cheese casserole in the 350° oven for 1 hour or until topping is nicely browned.
Macaroni and cheese recipe serves 4.