I own no part of the HP franchise and make no profit off this fic. All rights to JK Rowling, WB and Scholastic.
AN: Another tidbit that's been floating about. Inspired by an interesting discussion/post from the lovely kazfeist and the idea is used here with her permission. Let me know if you like it/want more! :) I hope you also enjoy my nod (and it is merely a nod- blink and you'll miss it!) to the wonderful, genius story Hungry Thirst Crazy by the talented Sinister Papaya Fondue.
It was no secret that Hermione Granger loved books. Big books, little books, long, short, academic, leisure, romantic, classic, fiction, nonfiction. She read them all eagerly and stored their information away in her magnificent mind like the lessons each one had to tell were just as important as the last.
So it was really no wonder that she'd ended up at a wizarding publishing house. The only wizarding publishing house that meant anything to anyone. As their top editor, in fact.
With a sigh of pleasure she waltzed into her office and hung up her robes, pausing to sniff the orchid at her window before she took a seat at her desk. The sign on her door read, "Hermione Granger, Chief Editor, Peverell and Nott Publishing," and there wasn't a day that went by that she wasn't supremely pleased with herself for not only landing such a gladsome job, but for being able to do something every day of her life that she really enjoyed.
Which was why the next memo that landed on her desk surprised her so much. In fact, it was probably be the only time she'd ever regret taking her job. (Excepting the time that awful man had walked in and tried to sell her his memoirs. Lucius Malfoy? An author? Phbbbt.)
Now, she looked down at the unfolded memo in consternation. The head of the house wanted to meet with her concerning a new project from Narcissa Malfoy for possible publication under their younger Whomping Willow name. Hermione wasn't surprised that Madame Feist wanted to meet with her personally to discuss a new client; that happened a lot more regularly than it probably should have with a chief editor; but she trusted her instincts and her love of books. Hermione screwed her mouth up thoughtfully and stared at the memo, as if willing it to disappear. She really didn't want to have to deal with any Malfoys just then. Seeing her son every time she walked into the ministry copyrighting offices was bad enough. Not that she still harbored many feelings against their lot. It was more of a general awkwardness that accompanied such visits. Draco, though still arrogant beyond belief, at least seemed to make some sort of effort to be cordial. Why, they'd even graduated to an easily shared smile the last time they'd seen one another. Which was better than what Ron did for him. She'd never forget the unfortunate time he'd come along on one of her visits…
Pushing back the shudder that accompanied that memory, she stood up and put her robes back on. Well, time to go meet the new client. And she was a little curious at what this new project might be…she hadn't liked the idea of the woman's husband's memoirs, but You-Know-Who's service from a woman's point of view might be very interesting. She bet a lot of people would read it and especially find her a sympathetic character. A lonely woman, only looking out for her son's life, forced to endure awful tasks…
Hermione was already romanticizing it and playing around with cover ideas when she arrived at Madame Feist's office. No one named Nott or Peverell still worked at the publishing house, though she believed the Notts still own some small share of the company. Madame Feist had been working as the head of the house for quite some time now. No book passed through its halls without stopping at her desk first. The woman was constantly reading.
With only a hint of trepidation, Hermione stepped into the office.
"Ah, Ms. Granger, please- sit down. You know Narcissa already, I believe?"
"We've met," Hermione answered wryly and shook Narcissa's small, pale hand anyway. The woman looked about as awkward as she felt on the inside. Still, she tried to smile pleasantly, despite the haunted look that floated about her proud features.
Merlin, Draco took after his mum. The thought sent a smile to her own face and Narcissa's tentative one expanded slightly. Once Hermione had taken a seat, Madame Feist began speaking rapidly.
"Now, Mrs. Malfoy here has cooked up- oh, that's a good one, isn't it? Sorry, sorry- she's come up with a wonderful idea for a fundraiser. She was- what was it?"
"Going through the Manor-"
"Yes, yes. Going through her Manor's old things and she found some old recipes of her mother's and mother-in-law's and one thing led to another, did it? I believe you have some recipes of your own as well- that's correct? Anyway, she immediately got on the floo with some of the other wives and they came up with this idea."
"I'm sorry- a fundraiser?" Hermione asked, puzzled.
"Yes, yes! For charity."
"Of recipes." Hermione felt her heart slow. So. No exciting memoirs here, no tea and sympathy. Just…tea. She would have laughed if it hadn't been inappropriate.
"Yes- we thought we might call it, The Reformed Death Eaters' Cookbook," Narcissa supplied, looking hopeful.
Hermione did laugh at that and Narcissa looked disgruntled for a moment before she plowed forward diligently.
"It's just that so many of the wives- we didn't truly approve of what was going on, but our families' lives were at stake. And now we're all but ostracized in many circles and, well, we want to give back. We thought we could donate all the proceeds to charity, you see. What's that fund for the muggleborn orphans?"
Hermione's laughter died away as she gazed at Narcissa thoughtfully. The woman was quite serious, she could see that.
"The Reformed Death Eaters' Cookbook," she repeated slowly.
"Yes," Narcissa replied.
Hermione's eyes gleamed with more unvoiced laughter, but she managed to keep a straight face. "Merlin help me, I love it. You'd probably sell hundreds on morbid curiosity alone."
"Wonderful!" crowed Madame Feist. "Since you're about the only one on staff who won't mind working closely with her, I'm putting you up as head of the project, Ms. Granger. Don't think that means you can shirk your other responsibilities, of course."
"Oh, of course," Hermione responded. "What's our deadline?"
"We're thinking it could be ready for the Christmas season," Madame Feist replied.
"Alright," said Hermione. "That doesn't give us much time, but if you already have many of the recipes, then it shouldn't take so long to get them all in order. Why don't you follow me back to my office," she said to Narcissa, "and we can talk about it more there."
Narcissa nodded, thanked Madame Feist, and followed Hermione out the door. Whispers followed them as witches and wizards poked their heads out of their doors and watched the unlikely pair. Hermione tried to smile comfortingly.
"Ignore them," she whispered to Narcissa.
"Ignore who?" Narcissa responded, looking a bit confused.
"Oh- er- no one," Hermione said and held open the door of her office.
The minute they were inside, Narcissa collapsed into a chair. "Merlin, that was excruciating," she murmured.
"Pardon?"
Narcissa waved a hand. "All that talk and staring. I hate it, but it has to be born." She looked amused at Hermione's confusion. "Thought I didn't notice it? That's the whole point. They stop after a while if they see it's not bothering you. Now," she said, leaning forward, "where shall we start?"
Hermione laughed softly and took her seat again. Narcissa was turning out to be a very interesting woman. Perhaps she'd be able to convince her to write her memoirs after this cookbook affair was settled, after all.
"Well, we'll need to go over every recipe. I'll have to make the food myself, to test its safety. Normally we'd have a team to work on such things, but-"
"But no one wants to work with a Malfoy, yes, I understand," Narcissa said. "That's fine. Where shall we meet? What sort of a schedule is good for you?"
Hermione suggested her own flat, which Narcissa agreed to, and they quickly worked up a schedule of meeting three days a week- devoting two days to cooking and another day to editing and revising. It would be hell on Hermione's weekends, but she was already bringing most of her editing work home anyway, so she didn't care. And Ron was so used to their rare dates that she was certain he wouldn't care, either. Besides, Quidditch was starting in earnest and he would be busy, too. So that took care of that. As their meeting drew to a close, Narcissa began to fidget some and finally drew a small package from beneath her robes.
"Tarts," she murmured. "I wanted to bring a sample of something if you needed convincing, but, well, I hardly want them to go to waste. Here," she said, thrusting them across the desk at Hermione. "Take them."
Hermione poked at the package uncertainly. "What are they?"
"An old Malfoy family recipe. They're called-" and here she mumbled the name.
"What?"
Narcissa's face turned a lovely shade of pink. "Pureblood Tarts," she finally said apologetically.
Hermione laughed for the third time that day. It was the funniest thing she'd heard in a long time. She wouldn't find it half as amusing when its sister recipe, Mudblood Tarts, came up in conversation a week later (especially since they were, ironically, full of chocolate and quite sinful), but she wouldn't be able to deny that both kinds of tarts were quite good.
After Hermione had ushered Narcissa out of her office with the promise of a meeting later that week; and an assurance that she would go see Draco about the copyright; she turned back to her desk and pulled out one of the unassuming tarts. She bit into it carefully and multiple flavors flooded her mouth. The flaky, buttery crust, the caramelized brown sugar around the edges, cherry, raspberry, cinnamon…and a hint of lemon that made her mouth water and pucker just a little at the very end.
Pureblood Tarts, indeed. Pureblood Heaven, was more like it. Hermione was certain that she'd never enjoyed a pureblood quite so much.
Pureblood Tarts
Pie crust rolled very thin, cut into circles and placed in cups or muffin tins. (See Pansy's Pie Crust) Brush lightly with melted butter.
Heat one cup cherries, halved and one cup raspberries together in saucepan with one quarter cup light brown sugar and a half teaspoon cinnamon. Let simmer until thickened.
Add lemon juice to taste.
Spoon out equal portions into crusts, top with lemon zest. Bake at 350° F until crusts golden and lightly browned. Makes two dozen. (Approx.)