For the Just Like a Circus Challenge on the Golden Snitch forum.
Mandatory Prompt: Acrobat- Write about a character learning a skill for the first time.
Optional Prompts: (restriction) No using any female Gryffindors. (Color) scarlet
Beauxbatons, Barbegazi
Word Count: 956
Thanks to Bex for beta'ing
The sound of swearing draws Marius into the kitchen. He stands, watching in amusement as his sister shouts and shrieks at the flames that have consumed his stove.
"Aguamenti!"
"Oh, please don't use water on it," Marius sighs, grabbing his fire extinguisher and moving Dorea away before dousing the flames with the white spray.
"What is that?" Dorea asks, fascinated. "I don't even have a spell for something like that."
Marius almost laughs. There's something almost satisfying about knowing that he can do something his magical sister can't. He may be a Squib, but, with the help of Muggle ingenuity, he can still be impressive.
"It's a fire extinguisher," he answers with a smile, setting it aside.
Dorea mouths the word, her eyes wide as she kneels down to examine it. "Fascinating," she says before letting out an impressed whistle. "Muggles have these?"
"Those who don't want their kitchens in flames," he tells her. "Which reminds me, Dorea. Is there an particular reason you've set my kitchen on fire? I'm rather fond of it, you know."
Dorea's cheeks warm to a rich scarlet. She clears her throat, looking away. "I was trying to cook you breakfast," she answers.
Marius smiles at that as he grabs a rag to wipe away the last traces of foam away. It's only been a week since he and Dorea have reunited after more than a decade apart. They've been going slow, trying to learn about each other like they're strangers meeting for the first time. Now, Dorea has broken into his home to prepare him breakfast. Even if it was a failure, it still warms his heart.
"Do you even know how to cook, Dor?" he teases gently, studying the rag for a moment before deciding to just throw it in the bin. "I'm reasonably certain Mother and Father didn't teach you that skill."
"I used to watch the elves cook. Just like you did," she answers. "I thought I learned enough to manage it. It seems that I was wrong."
Marius lifts the pan. The bit of the eggs aren't covered by foam have turned to a nasty brown. He pokes them gently and finds that they have a rubbery consistency. "Quite wrong," he agrees.
"That's what happens when I try to do something nice," she grumbles.
He doesn't like seeing her look so sad. It doesn't matter how much time has passed, how little he knows about her. She is still his little sister, and he still feels the urge to always keep a smile on her face.
Marius puts an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a gentle hug. "Don't worry," he assures her. "It will be easy enough to fix this."
His sister sighs. "I'm getting married in a month, and I don't even know how to cook. Charlus doesn't keep servants," she says. "I'm useless."
"Not useless," he assures her, shaking his head. "You can learn."
"How?"
Marius snorts. A year after being thrown out by the Blacks, he was taken in by a lovely couple who owned a restaurant. The following year, at sixteen, they put him to work, learning the trade. He's spent the past four years as head chef. "I'm sure I can find a way," he laughs.
…
"Can't I use my wand?" Dorea sighs, staring at the knife in her hand like it's some disgusting creature.
"Muggle way!" Marius answers with a soft smile. "Only way I know how. Only way I can teach you."
His sister groans, but she doesn't complain. With unsteady hands, she sets about, cutting up the onions. Marius guides her along, helping her dice them into the right size.
"I could use a spell," she points out. "It would be much faster."
Marius rolls his eyes and places a bell pepper before her. "Same thing," he instructs. "Nice, thin strips first, then small squares."
Dorea exhales deeply, but she doesn't complain. Cassiopeia would have. He can almost hear his other sister shrieking indignantly at the thought of having to use a knife like this.
"Watch your fingers!" he cautions before the blade can cut through her skin.
"This is horribly dangerous!" she insists.
"Not if you're careful."
…
"Too much," Marius says as Dorea turns on the gas. "Open it like that, and the stove will catch fire again."
Dorea watches him. Marius smiles to himself. This is what it should have been like growing up. He should have been there with skills that she could only dream of. She should have looked at him in wonder, begging him to teach her his secrets.
"Better late than never," he mutters.
"What was that?"
"Nothing. Now, we're going to get a low flame going to melt the butter, then we're going to add the vegetables and cook them until they're soft."
Dorea nods and follows his instructions. Marius watches her, arms folded over his chest. Her movements are awkward and uncertain, but she doesn't stop. Marius feels his heart swell with pride as the scent of onion fills the air.
"You're doing wonderful," he assures her. "Now, stir it a bit. You don't want them to stick."
…
The meal looks and smells wonderful. Marius' stomach growls as he and Dorea carry everything to the table.
"How does it feel?" he asks, drizzling the butter sauce over the roasted chicken.
"Like I'm a servant, honestly," she laughs. "But that's not so bad. At least I know how to do this now."
"Don't get too confident," he teases. "After all, we have to see if you've past the final test. Does it taste as good as it looks?"
Dorea sets the rolls on the table, shrugging. "Only one way to find out."