Fandom: Harry Potter, AU (not HBP/DH compliant)
Pairings: Harry/Draco, Hermione/Snape
Rating: Teen
Synopsis: After a thoughtlessly made challenge, Hogwarts hosts a cook-off for the students. Some unlikely characters boast some surprising talents (or lack thereof).
No copyright infringement intended... but that should have been a given.

Cooking With…

"You know," Ron began conversationally, "after all these years, those house elves still amaze me with the meals they can turn out." He shoved another forkful of casserole into his mouth. "I mean, they never burn anything! And the quantities…" he paused to swallow the mound of food he held in his cheeks. He followed with an appreciative belch. "Ah!"

"Oh, don't give her ammunition, Ron," Harry chided as Hermione opened her mouth to lecture. She quickly closed her mouth with a snap and sent a glare in Harry's direction. Sniffing haughtily, Hermione flipped a stray hair back from her face and picked up her goblet of pumpkin juice.

"Come on, Hermione. You have to admit, the food is always good. Better than good, even; you must think so, too. You eat it," Ron grinned at her indignant expression.

"I always thought Ron's mum was a wonderful cook," Harry said graciously, remember the food parcels he'd received during the summer the Dursley's tried to starve him… repeatedly.

"Gran's not really the best at cooking, but you'll never hear me saying that around her," Neville supplied with a shudder from his place on the other side of the table.

"Well, I don't mean to boast—," everyone within earshot snickered and rolled their eyes, "—but I make a mean Sheppard's Pie," Seamus tilted his chin up in pride. "It's a Finnegan specialty," he added with a nod.

"If you tried to cook anything, you'd blow up half of wizarding Scotland," drifted a nasal voice from behind them. All eyes turned to see Pansy Parkinson passing a few feet away, a bored looking Malfoy allowing himself to be dragged along behind her.

"You're just jealous because you probably can't boil water without burning it," someone volunteered from the vicinity of the Ravenclaw table. A chorus of laughter followed the comment.

"I'll take you losers on any day! I'll bet I can cook anything better than you lot can!"

"You're on, Parkinson! What are the stakes?" Seamus spat out.

"If—, no when I win, you have to be my own personal house elf for a week."

"So, when I whip your graceless behind from here to Hogsmeade, you have to be my servant for one whole week?" he crowed with unconcealed glee.

"Bring it on, you bloody leprechaun!"

"Wait just a moment," a cluster of Ravenclaws interrupted. "Why should you two get to have all the fun?"

"Yeah, why not let some REAL cooks roll you pretenders out flat?" came a jibe from further down the table. The surrounding groups erupted into a smattering of insults and queries.

"Why, indeed?" floated down the firm voice of Dumbledore. Heads turned to the head table as conversation rapidly trickled off. After a brief word with the professors in attendance, Dumbledore addressed the crowd. "May I have your attention, please," he spoke into the now silent hall. "Houses Gryffindor and Slytherin have proposed a marvelous suggestion: Hogwarts will host its very first Student Cook Off!"

The silence in the great hall splintered into hundreds of perplexed and excited voices. Harry, Ron and Hermione glanced at each other, and then at the tables around them, and finally settled their gazes on the back of the quickly retreating Pansy Parkinson.

"She's had her bluff called now. She won't stand a chance!" Dean sang out, clapping Seamus on the back and sharing a laugh.

"Going to enter, Harry?" inquired Colin Creevey, glancing around and snapping pictures of animated conversations everywhere. Harry frowned slightly.

"Well, I wouldn't really consider it…" he admitted quietly. Hermione kicked Ron under the table and thrust her chin in Harry's direction.

"Alright, there, Creevey, you're needed," Ron put a hand to Colin's back a gave a friendly shove in the direction of a conversation that was quickly heating up at the Hufflepuff table. "Make sure you get some good shots," he hollered after Colin's shrinking form. Ron turned back to Harry as Hermione leaned forward.

"Harry, we know that this might be uncomfortable for you, given the things you've been through," she whispered, "but we're here to support you, whatever you decide."

"Of course we are, mate," Ron nodded in agreement. "Whatever you want to do, we'll back you up."

Flashes of the Dursley residence flickered behind Harry's eyes as they glazed over, and he was lost in unpleasant memories. A hot stove. The dual burn of the oil from the pan and the switch across his legs. Stomach pains so intense that they bring him to his knees. Hearing his aunt, uncle, and cousin gobbling up the meal that took him hours to prepare. Another night without dinner. He shook his head vigorously, clearing the ugly thoughts from his mind's eye.

"We'll see," Harry said simply. His two best friends looked at him with affection. "Oi, don't go getting all mushy on me," he chuckled. "How about you two?"

"Well, I've never really tried to cook… but it's kind of like making potions, right? I can definitely do that, so I guess I'll give it a go," Hermione considered thoughtfully.

"Not me, mate! I couldn't cook to save my arse; that was more Charlie and George's talent," Ron despondently offered.

"Wow, I didn't know that," Harry and Hermione replied in sync. All three of them burst into chuckles.

"All that time we spent at the Burrow, and I never realized…"

"Those were the good ol' days, weren't they?"

"Yeah, they were."

"Did I ever tell you guys about that time Fred and George stuck a wad of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans in to mum's Christmas—"

"Hey, Dumbledore's already posting the rules up in the front entryway!"

Students from all four house tables poured out of the great hall. The rumble of feet toppled empty goblets and rattled plates and cutlery as it flowed by. Surrounding the newly place contest parchment, various statements could be made out through the din of voices.

"Does that say 'No Magic'?"

"That is so… muggle!"

"One hour? To cook your best dish?"

"What can you cook in an hour?"

"Especially with no magic?"

"It shouldn't take more than an hour to cook just one dish."

"Qualifying rounds? What are those?"

"No magic?!" Pansy's shrill yell pierced the dull roar.

"Heh, heh. Looks like somebody put the broomstick before the snitch," Ron jerked his thumb towards a wildly gesticulating Pansy, who was currently screaming in fury at an apathetic and still bored looking Draco Malfoy.

"I almost feel bad for him right now," Harry shook his head in near-sympathy. Pansy continued to shriek as Malfoy looked disinterestedly at his fingernails.

"Too right, that," Ron added.

"C'mon, then, boys," Hermione looped an arm in the crook of each boy's elbow.

"Where to, 'Mione?" Ron asked.

"With Hermione, what else is there?" Harry rolled his eyes.

"To the library!" They called in unison.