A/N: This is written in response to the prompt below. It's my first published fic so I'd love feedback! Apologies for the A's between every paragraph - the website won't let me put line breaks in for some reason. If anyone knows how to make it work, please tell me! I do not own Harry Potter or anything you recognise. Hope you enjoy it and please review!
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Prompt: No good story starts with someone eating a salad. Write a good story that starts with a salad. (This is my attempt at it.)
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It all started with Hermione saying she wanted a salad. She was studying for her final exams to qualify as an arithmacer, and Ron wanted to make her smile. They were staying at the Burrow, partly so Hermione could do magic without risking muggles seeing, and partly because it was quiet, with most of the family living on their own and Molly, Arthur and Ginny visiting Charlie in Romania. Only George sometimes dropped by, and he not that often. Even less after Hermione hexed him for testing a prank product on her while she worked. The memory still made Ron smirk, George had been speaking in couplets for five hours before he'd finally found the counter. Never wind up an arithmacer. Especially not one who was working. Especially, especially not Hermione.
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The mastery though was making her stressed, even for Hermione, and Ron really wanted to make her happy, hence looking through his mum's recipes looking for a salad recipe just because Hermione said she missed eating them. Unfortunately, Ron we just realising that his mum didn't make that many salads, and had written down even fewer recipes. In fact, as far as he could tell, she'd written down only one, and that rather briefly.
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Chicken-Mango Salad: Whisk 1 tablespoon each lemon juice and honey, some grated ginger and 1/4 cup olive oil; toss with shredded grilled chicken, mesclun greens and diced mango. Exact ingredients don't matter. Ron had set the recipe aside to look for a better one, but it didn't look like he was going to find one, so chicken-mango salad it was. How hard could it be anyway?
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Just as Ron was about to start, George walked into the kitchen whistling.
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"What are you doing here?"
"Is that anyway to greet your brilliant older brother?"
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Ron sighed, he didn't really want to deal with his brother just then "Oh hello great and awesome George, why have you graced us with your presence today?" he snarked, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
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"Better." George smirked "Shops quiet today and I wondered if you'd help me with some experiments."
"I'm busy."
"Doing what?"
"Cooking."
"You're cooking? You?"
"Oi! I can cook."
"Yeah, soggy pasta and beans on toast."
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Ron winced, George's description of his cooking skills were rather accurate. Not that his were much better.
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"It's for Hermione."
"Oh right. Want a hand?"
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Ron hesitated, he'd wanted to do it on his own, but George might know how to read the recipe.
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"Why do you want to help?" he asked suspiciously. The last thing he needed was for George to prank Hermione again.
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Georges face tightened "The shops quiet." he repeated.
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In an instant Ron understood, and for a moment grief tightened in his own throat, cutting off his air. No. He couldn't focus on that or he would drown.
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"Oh fine. But don't prank it ok?"
"Course not. Hermione would murder me on my sleep."
"Yes she would."
"Where do we start?"
"Let's get everything together first."
"Sounds easy. Lemme see the recipe."
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Ron handed him the recipe.
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"Merlin's teapot! I don't even know what some of these are!"
"Well it says exact ingredients don't matter. We can substitute something can't we."
"We'll have to. Right, let's get started."
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They started hunting around the kitchen for ingredients. Five minutes later they looked at the kitchen table. They had the lemon juice, honey, ginger, and a piece of chicken.
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"Reckon we can use banana instead of mango?" George asked.
"We'll have to, unless you know where to find mangos in England?"
"Bananas it is! What in Morgana's name are mesclun greens?"
"Dunno, sounds like a potions ingredient."
"Nah, looks like a Muggle recipe. What greens have we got?"
"Spinach."
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George made a face "Hermione likes healthy stuff right?"
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"Yeah. Bloody mad if you ask me."
"We'll use spinach then. What else do we need?"
"Just the olive oil."
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Five minutes later they still hadn't found the olive oil, and they gave up and summoned it, hoping it didn't knock too many things down in its journey. A small bottle zoomed through the air and Ron grabbed it.
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"It's empty."
"Excellent powers of observation Ronniekins. Exceeds Expectations."
"Shut up. Mum keeps stocks of stuff in the shed doesn't she? Go and find some olive oil. I'll start chopping the banana and spinach."
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George smirked at him but headed off and Ron jabbed his wand at the chopping boards and knives and started them cutting before going on a search for a grater. He was sure they had one somewhere. Ten minutes later he finally found it, just as George reappeared with a large bottle of dark liquid labelled oil.
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"What took your so long?"
"It was in dad's work area for some reason, next to that new car he's fiddling with."
"What was it doing there?"
"How would I know? Maybe dad wanted a snack and used it?"
"Pure oil?"
"Don't see you with any clever ideas Ronniekins."
"Is it olive oil?"
"Just says oil on the bottle, but the recipe says exact ingredients don't matter doesn't it Ronniekins?"
"Don't call me that."
"Don't call you what Ronniekins?"
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Ron restrained the desire to chuck one of the knives at his brother and instead poked his wand at the ginger and started it grating.
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"How much ginger do you think we want?"
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George hesitated "If we put too little in she won't be able to taste it. Best put plenty in."
"I'll put it all in just to be on the safe side. Can you find a bowl?"
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George grabbed a bowl from the cupboard as Ron examined the recipe again.
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"What's shredded 'sposed to mean?"
"In potions it means you put it in in little pieces doesn't it?"
"Like grating?"
"Think so."
"Then why the hell don't they say grated." Ron groused, sending the chicken to join the ginger at the grater. He dumped the banana and spinach into the bowl George held out and measured out some lemon juice and honey and added it.
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A minute later the ginger was done and they added that to the bowl too. The chicken didn't seem to be grating very well. The slimy pink gunk was
clogging up the holes on the grater. Ron jabbed it with his wand again to speed it up. The result was a large pile of what looked like pink worms. Muggle cooking was weird.
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They added the chicken and stirred it a bit, then reached for the oil, but unfortunately they found another problem.
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"What size of cup does it mean?" Ron asked
"How should I know? I'm not mum."
"Maybe she means our normal cups?"
"I dunno, those are pretty big."
"It must need a lot of oil."
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George shrugged and grabbed a cup, and filled it roughly a quarter full of oil. In it went. He looked at the recipe again.
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"What does it mean toss it?"
"Throw it?"
"You want to throw it in the air?"
"Muggles are weird."
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George shrugged and picked up the bowl. "Ready?"
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Run nodded and George flung the bowl upwards. The salad shot up, some of it splattering on the ceiling, the rest of it scattering. Ron waved his wand just in time to collect most of it back into the bowl.
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"Not that hard idiot!"
"It wasn't hard. How do muggles do this?"
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Ron shrugged. Muggles were far beyond him. They both looked back down at the recipe.
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"So it's done then?" George said uncertainly.
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They both looked doubtfully at the bowl of slimy brown sludge they'd made. There were pink noodles floating in it.
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"The chicken isn't cooked." Ron said.
"Recipe doesn't say to cook it."
"We can't give Hermione raw chicken."
"Maybe mum forgot to write down cooking it?"
"Shall we put it in a saucepan?"
"Nah, that'll undo the tossing, we'll just set a fire above it for a bit."
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George pulled out his wand. He lit the tip and jabbed it at the bowl.
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The bowl burst into white hot flames.
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Ron and George screamed and flung themselves backwards.
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"Bloody Hell! Aguamenti! Aguamenti!"
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Streams of water flowed from both their wands and poured over the bowl and table, thankfully dousing the flames. Above them a door opened. They'd disturbed Hermione.
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They looked at each other, contemplating running, but it was too late.
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The door opened and Hermione ran in, brandishing her wand.
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She stared. And stared. And stared.
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Ron and George were still on the floor. There was food and scorch marks on the ceiling. There was a bottle of oil on the table.
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"What are you doing?" she asked faintly.
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Ron mutely held out the recipe. Hermione read it, then read it again. She looked around the room. She read the recipe again. Slowly, she walked to a chair and sat down. Her eyebrows started twitching, then she began making strange choking noises.
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"Hermione?" Ron asked carefully. That did it.
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In an instant choked noises began chuckles, and then chuckles full out laughter, until Hermione was doubling over on the chair, shaking with laughter and tears poured down her face.
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Later, when she finally stopped laughing, she explained what tossing a salad meant, and the difference between olive oil and petrol. Ron and George apologized profusely, but Hermione just started giggling again.
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"Don't apologise, I haven't laughed so hard in ages. I needed that."
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And Ron didn't care about the fact that he'd likely be teased about this for years, or that the kitchen would take hours to clean and he'd have to explain the scorch marks on the ceiling to mum. Hermione was smiling.
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Mission accomplished.
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