fic: the art of cookery
title: The Art of Cookery
prompt: Kitchen
characters: James/Lily, Sirius, Remus
words: 1703
rating: G
Note: Late birthday fic gift for Nat xxoh_yeah!
(banner by ahewlett)
“Did you bake our son?”
After returning home one afternoon to find his wife in the kitchen, (which just so happened to be in an absolute state of disarray, every surface covered with homemade cakes and biscuits, Harry suspiciously nowhere to be found), asking whether their son had been popped into the oven along with a batch of muffins was a likely question.
James Potter picked up a cupcake and sniffed it; he could smell a slight trace of Harry if he inhaled hard enough…
“Of course I didn’t bake him,” Lily rolled her eyes from the counter she was rolling dough on. “He’s over there,” she gestured to behind a pyramid of stacked pumpkin pasties.
James poked his head round; Harry was sitting in his highchair, a small plate of cauldron cakes placed in front of him, his mouth a messy brown and his face a vibrant green. At the sight of his father, Harry decided to burst into tears.
“Oh, nice to see you, too,” answered James, picking up Harry and rubbing his back in soothing circles. “I’m saving you from the crazy cooking lady,” he whispered low in his ear, but not low enough.
“I heard that,” Lily pretended to glare at him, rolling the dough harder.
“Lily,” James looked around the room, “I was only gone an hour and somehow you’ve managed to turn our kitchen into a bakery.”
He wouldn’t have minded Lily’s newfound cooking obsession - he liked cake as much as the next person. But it was the fact that she couldn’t cook well (or even mildly well) that was the problem. He was too soft to tell her she was a terrible chef; he reckoned she should have understood by herself from the trays upon trays of uneaten, burnt and inedible food collecting in every corner of the room.
Lily became so batty over cooking that James was forced to break the oven when she finally left the room for a toilet break after seven hours. When she came back and found the oven mysteriously blown up, she burst into a flood of tears. Completely unprepared for such a distraught reaction, James suggested they pop over to Remus and Sirius’ home and use their oven as an alternative. She instantly stopped crying.
“Hullo,’” Lily, James and baby Harry arrived at Remus and Sirius’ doorstep soon after.
“This is a nice surprise,” Sirius replied at the doorway in a manner which more than suggested it wasn’t at all pleasant. “What brings your lovely selves here?”
Lily just smiled widely, handed Remus a plate of cakes, and invited herself inside.
“Why of course you can come in, Mrs. Potter, thank you for asking,” Sirius rolled his eyes. After hearing that, Lily backed up, gave Sirius’ cheek a small peck, and all was forgiven as he stared after her down the hall. “I hate it when women do that,” he muttered when she was out of earshot, wiping his cheek. “Dirty trick…”
“More cake?” groaned Remus as James stepped inside with Harry in his arms. James shrugged helplessly in response. “We’re, um, still kind of struggling to eat that last batch of cakes Lily made…”
“Is that what they were?” snorted Sirius. “I thought they were paperweights.”
The sounds of clangs and clanks coming from the kitchen split the air. The men looked at each other as they lingered in the hallway, probably the safest place at that moment.
“What is that wife of yours doing, Prongs?” Sirius asked eventually.
“The oven in our house broke,” James explained with a sigh. “Lily’s using yours as a substitute.”
“You broke it on purpose, didn’t you?” Sirius guessed accurately, but the air was ripped again by another sound.
“Can someone give me a hand in here, please?”
James and Sirius quickly looked upon Remus.
“Why do I have to go?” he complained, but they give him no explanation, shoving him in the direction of the kitchen.
“If I go back in there,” Sirius whispered to James in the hall, “and find Moony on the kitchen floor bleeding to death and missing a hand, and your crazy wife standing over him with a bread knife, I’m holding you personally responsible.”
James rolled his eyes. “She’s become a cooking enthusiast, not a murderer.”
“It’s the same thing with your wife’s awful baking skills,” Sirius muttered under his breath.
A girlish scream came from the kitchen; judging by the alarmed look on Sirius’ face there was an equal chance that such a high pitched cry could have been made from either Lily or Remus - in fact, especially Remus.
James and Sirius quickly rushed into the room. Remus wasn’t on the floor; however, his chest was covered in a thick red.
“Calm down,” Remus said as Sirius collapsed to the ground in a snivelling mess. “It’s just strawberry jam Lily spilt on me.”
After that incident, James, Lily and baby Harry were politely asked to leave. James was forced to fix the oven to keep Lily satisfied.
In the early hours of one morning, James woke from bed with a start. Listening closely, he could hear the sound of...whisking? He turned over and groaned at the sight of the empty half of the bed. Surely Lily wasn’t up at this hour? After throwing the duvet off himself a little harsher than necessary, he made his way downstairs.
He stepped into the kitchen rubbing drowsily at his eyes underneath the glasses only just perching on his nose. Lily’s back was facing him as she stirred cake mix in a bowl in front of the window overlooking the garden, all the while standing alone in the dark.
“Lily, what are you doing?” asked James redundantly, because it was pretty clear what she was doing: she was cooking single-handedly in the dark, and something was very wrong with that. “Come back to bed.”
Lily glimpsed at him from behind her shoulder, and then carried on staring despondently out of the window as her hand continuously circled the bowl. “What are you doing up?” she asked quietly.
“Funnily enough, the whole neighbourhood can hear you whisking,” James remarked from the doorway, then walked over to her. As his arms encircled her neck from behind, he spotted her whisking become sloppy - but she didn't stop, even when he started nuzzling her neck. “Come back to bed,” he beckoned.
“In a minute.”
“Now,” dared James playfully.
He should have known it was a mistake to be mischievous at this time of the morning. Lily just blinked and replied stiffly, “Just…go back to bed, James.”
His arms left her neck and fell to his sides. “You look exhausted,” he said with a frown.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine-”
“I’m fine!” Lily snapped. James’ patience couldn’t be tested any longer.
“What’s the matter with you?” he asked irritably.
“Nothing,” Lily said, adopting a calmer voice, “is the matter with me,” and started pouring cake mix into paper cases. James couldn’t believe a cupcake case was getting more attention and consideration than he was. He ran his hand jadedly through his hair and sighed.
“Lily, I can’t take this anymore. Will you please stop cooking for one second? I leave the house in the morning and you’re cooking, I come home and you’re still cooking - it’s driving me up the bloody wall-”
“What would you rather I do, James?” Lily’s voice had drastically risen as she turned on him with fierce eyes. “Would you rather I sit on an armchair in front of the fireplace and worry endlessly about you fighting in a war and putting your life on the line everyday?”
Cooking had finally been brought to a standstill, but James almost wished she had carried on tending to paper cupcake cases as her heated stare with him from across the room rendered his motionless and speechless. His eyes had widened at the mention of the war against Voldemort and his dangerous position as a member of the Order; he hadn’t considered for one second that this whole cooking malarkey had anything to do with him fighting.
“Or,” Lily continued quieter, “would you rather I cook to distract myself?”
James said nothing but looked at her sadly. At the spectacle of his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to come up with something intelligible to say, Lily replied as though he had agreed to the latter of her options of how to cope with him when he wasn't at home, “Of course you would. Now go to bed and let me finish this.”
She whipped round and commenced filling paper cases with cake mix again. When the room filled with such a deathlike silence, she figured James had at long last seen sense and left. She sucked in a breath of surprise when she felt James touch her elbow.
“Do you wanna hand?” he asked softly.
“What?” Lily answered barely above a whisper.
“Do. You. Want. A. Hand?” he repeated with a smile. “Or an arm? Or even a leg? How about a foot? Take any part of me you want-”
“Stop it,” Lily told him as she began to laugh.
As she reached for a rolling pin, his hand settled snugly on top of hers. “I mean it,” he told her. “Let me help.”
There was a pause, then Lily gave a little nod and handed him a spoon. “Thank you,” she said appreciatively.
After a minute of vigorous rolling of dough by James, and Lily quietly chuckling at such a display, a thumb appeared out of his nowhere and rubbed Lily's nose.
“Hey, what was that for?”
“You had flour on your nose,” James explained. “I adore you, you crazy cook of a wife of mine,” he added close to her ear.
“I wish you’d adore my cooking.” She stuck her tongue out at him.
James touched his face briefly to scratch his chin and ended up with a beard made of flour. Lily didn’t point it out and only commented he needed a shave in the morning, which only made James rub his chin more in bewilderment.
After finally falling asleep at the kitchen counter at four a.m., James carried a snoring Lily back upstairs.
prompt: Kitchen
characters: James/Lily, Sirius, Remus
words: 1703
rating: G
Note: Late birthday fic gift for Nat xxoh_yeah!
(banner by ahewlett)
“Did you bake our son?”
After returning home one afternoon to find his wife in the kitchen, (which just so happened to be in an absolute state of disarray, every surface covered with homemade cakes and biscuits, Harry suspiciously nowhere to be found), asking whether their son had been popped into the oven along with a batch of muffins was a likely question.
James Potter picked up a cupcake and sniffed it; he could smell a slight trace of Harry if he inhaled hard enough…
“Of course I didn’t bake him,” Lily rolled her eyes from the counter she was rolling dough on. “He’s over there,” she gestured to behind a pyramid of stacked pumpkin pasties.
James poked his head round; Harry was sitting in his highchair, a small plate of cauldron cakes placed in front of him, his mouth a messy brown and his face a vibrant green. At the sight of his father, Harry decided to burst into tears.
“Oh, nice to see you, too,” answered James, picking up Harry and rubbing his back in soothing circles. “I’m saving you from the crazy cooking lady,” he whispered low in his ear, but not low enough.
“I heard that,” Lily pretended to glare at him, rolling the dough harder.
“Lily,” James looked around the room, “I was only gone an hour and somehow you’ve managed to turn our kitchen into a bakery.”
He wouldn’t have minded Lily’s newfound cooking obsession - he liked cake as much as the next person. But it was the fact that she couldn’t cook well (or even mildly well) that was the problem. He was too soft to tell her she was a terrible chef; he reckoned she should have understood by herself from the trays upon trays of uneaten, burnt and inedible food collecting in every corner of the room.
Lily became so batty over cooking that James was forced to break the oven when she finally left the room for a toilet break after seven hours. When she came back and found the oven mysteriously blown up, she burst into a flood of tears. Completely unprepared for such a distraught reaction, James suggested they pop over to Remus and Sirius’ home and use their oven as an alternative. She instantly stopped crying.
“Hullo,’” Lily, James and baby Harry arrived at Remus and Sirius’ doorstep soon after.
“This is a nice surprise,” Sirius replied at the doorway in a manner which more than suggested it wasn’t at all pleasant. “What brings your lovely selves here?”
Lily just smiled widely, handed Remus a plate of cakes, and invited herself inside.
“Why of course you can come in, Mrs. Potter, thank you for asking,” Sirius rolled his eyes. After hearing that, Lily backed up, gave Sirius’ cheek a small peck, and all was forgiven as he stared after her down the hall. “I hate it when women do that,” he muttered when she was out of earshot, wiping his cheek. “Dirty trick…”
“More cake?” groaned Remus as James stepped inside with Harry in his arms. James shrugged helplessly in response. “We’re, um, still kind of struggling to eat that last batch of cakes Lily made…”
“Is that what they were?” snorted Sirius. “I thought they were paperweights.”
The sounds of clangs and clanks coming from the kitchen split the air. The men looked at each other as they lingered in the hallway, probably the safest place at that moment.
“What is that wife of yours doing, Prongs?” Sirius asked eventually.
“The oven in our house broke,” James explained with a sigh. “Lily’s using yours as a substitute.”
“You broke it on purpose, didn’t you?” Sirius guessed accurately, but the air was ripped again by another sound.
“Can someone give me a hand in here, please?”
James and Sirius quickly looked upon Remus.
“Why do I have to go?” he complained, but they give him no explanation, shoving him in the direction of the kitchen.
“If I go back in there,” Sirius whispered to James in the hall, “and find Moony on the kitchen floor bleeding to death and missing a hand, and your crazy wife standing over him with a bread knife, I’m holding you personally responsible.”
James rolled his eyes. “She’s become a cooking enthusiast, not a murderer.”
“It’s the same thing with your wife’s awful baking skills,” Sirius muttered under his breath.
A girlish scream came from the kitchen; judging by the alarmed look on Sirius’ face there was an equal chance that such a high pitched cry could have been made from either Lily or Remus - in fact, especially Remus.
James and Sirius quickly rushed into the room. Remus wasn’t on the floor; however, his chest was covered in a thick red.
“Calm down,” Remus said as Sirius collapsed to the ground in a snivelling mess. “It’s just strawberry jam Lily spilt on me.”
After that incident, James, Lily and baby Harry were politely asked to leave. James was forced to fix the oven to keep Lily satisfied.
In the early hours of one morning, James woke from bed with a start. Listening closely, he could hear the sound of...whisking? He turned over and groaned at the sight of the empty half of the bed. Surely Lily wasn’t up at this hour? After throwing the duvet off himself a little harsher than necessary, he made his way downstairs.
He stepped into the kitchen rubbing drowsily at his eyes underneath the glasses only just perching on his nose. Lily’s back was facing him as she stirred cake mix in a bowl in front of the window overlooking the garden, all the while standing alone in the dark.
“Lily, what are you doing?” asked James redundantly, because it was pretty clear what she was doing: she was cooking single-handedly in the dark, and something was very wrong with that. “Come back to bed.”
Lily glimpsed at him from behind her shoulder, and then carried on staring despondently out of the window as her hand continuously circled the bowl. “What are you doing up?” she asked quietly.
“Funnily enough, the whole neighbourhood can hear you whisking,” James remarked from the doorway, then walked over to her. As his arms encircled her neck from behind, he spotted her whisking become sloppy - but she didn't stop, even when he started nuzzling her neck. “Come back to bed,” he beckoned.
“In a minute.”
“Now,” dared James playfully.
He should have known it was a mistake to be mischievous at this time of the morning. Lily just blinked and replied stiffly, “Just…go back to bed, James.”
His arms left her neck and fell to his sides. “You look exhausted,” he said with a frown.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine-”
“I’m fine!” Lily snapped. James’ patience couldn’t be tested any longer.
“What’s the matter with you?” he asked irritably.
“Nothing,” Lily said, adopting a calmer voice, “is the matter with me,” and started pouring cake mix into paper cases. James couldn’t believe a cupcake case was getting more attention and consideration than he was. He ran his hand jadedly through his hair and sighed.
“Lily, I can’t take this anymore. Will you please stop cooking for one second? I leave the house in the morning and you’re cooking, I come home and you’re still cooking - it’s driving me up the bloody wall-”
“What would you rather I do, James?” Lily’s voice had drastically risen as she turned on him with fierce eyes. “Would you rather I sit on an armchair in front of the fireplace and worry endlessly about you fighting in a war and putting your life on the line everyday?”
Cooking had finally been brought to a standstill, but James almost wished she had carried on tending to paper cupcake cases as her heated stare with him from across the room rendered his motionless and speechless. His eyes had widened at the mention of the war against Voldemort and his dangerous position as a member of the Order; he hadn’t considered for one second that this whole cooking malarkey had anything to do with him fighting.
“Or,” Lily continued quieter, “would you rather I cook to distract myself?”
James said nothing but looked at her sadly. At the spectacle of his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to come up with something intelligible to say, Lily replied as though he had agreed to the latter of her options of how to cope with him when he wasn't at home, “Of course you would. Now go to bed and let me finish this.”
She whipped round and commenced filling paper cases with cake mix again. When the room filled with such a deathlike silence, she figured James had at long last seen sense and left. She sucked in a breath of surprise when she felt James touch her elbow.
“Do you wanna hand?” he asked softly.
“What?” Lily answered barely above a whisper.
“Do. You. Want. A. Hand?” he repeated with a smile. “Or an arm? Or even a leg? How about a foot? Take any part of me you want-”
“Stop it,” Lily told him as she began to laugh.
As she reached for a rolling pin, his hand settled snugly on top of hers. “I mean it,” he told her. “Let me help.”
There was a pause, then Lily gave a little nod and handed him a spoon. “Thank you,” she said appreciatively.
After a minute of vigorous rolling of dough by James, and Lily quietly chuckling at such a display, a thumb appeared out of his nowhere and rubbed Lily's nose.
“Hey, what was that for?”
“You had flour on your nose,” James explained. “I adore you, you crazy cook of a wife of mine,” he added close to her ear.
“I wish you’d adore my cooking.” She stuck her tongue out at him.
James touched his face briefly to scratch his chin and ended up with a beard made of flour. Lily didn’t point it out and only commented he needed a shave in the morning, which only made James rub his chin more in bewilderment.
After finally falling asleep at the kitchen counter at four a.m., James carried a snoring Lily back upstairs.