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Hermione may indeed be called the brightest witch of her age, but even the best have flaws. At some point, one must either admit defeat or find a way around their weaknesses. After burning her way through 1001 Supper Spells and every other magic cookbook that she could find, it came down to this...Either learn to prepare food the "old fashioned way" or starve when without help. Happily, Muggle Studies was offering a cooking course option this weekend. It wasn't the most popular course, but at least she wouldn't make a fool of herself in front of too many others.
Arriving a few minutes early, Hermione picked up two aprons and made her way to the station nearest Professor McGonagall's perch. They were tucked into a corner of the main kitchens while the house elves laboured away cleaning and preparing the constant flow of food. It disturbed her not to try to bring them to understand their need for freedom, but everyone did have the right to choose their own lifestyle. They would not listen, and as per McGonagall's request they were not to interact with her students at this time. Class time drew near. Hermione was glad to have a friend like Ginny, willing to join a class she was only marginally interested in to support her friend. Passing the teal paisley apron over to the redhead, they exchanged smiles.
"Everyone to a station. Come now, don't delay us Miss Bones. Just pair up as you go." Professor McGonagall's voice had a slight tone of strain, causing Hermione to search out the cause. At first, she saw nothing alarming, just the final student closing the distance to their allotted area. Then...
"Me Mam says a bit of cookin' would suit me well, seein' how much of it I eat." Seamus Finnegan grabbed the only remaining apron with a look of embarrassed horror. The vivid pink floral number with flounces really did not suit him. Nothing to do but soldier on.
The professor cleared her throat."As we have an odd numberof students, Mr Finnegan, I fear that you must make do, alone." Sighs were swallowed by the students grateful at not having to tempt fate during this class at least. The class advanced at a fairly fast pace. From measuring and mixing to baking biscuits and scones, the basics of puddings, and an assortment of breads, the day drifted along.
After a quick bite and cuppa beside the hearth, prepared by the Professor herself, the students were quite pleased with their progress. The aroma ofSusan Bones' Apple Bread still lingered in the air. Ginny had produced a Blueberry Buckle that almost brought a smile to the stern professor's face.
As the close of class time drew near, most of the students were either cleaning up (which was not nearly as quick or fun without their wands) or waiting to pull what they hoped were masterpieces out of the oven. As each student had chosen one bake-able dish as their exam piece, the mixture of fragrance was intriguing and shifting as more were put on the counters.
Ginny put the final touches on a plate filled with a display of her best meat pasties. She knew the twins enjoyed them mostly for their portability and tended to secret as many as possible back to their room in the Burrow. Susan Bones was trying a new version of Honey Cakes layered with Fresh Strawberry Icing, knowing that the others in the Hufflepuff Common Room would be sure to love it. Hermione had decided upon a spinach soufflé. The recipe was a trifle difficult, but suited her over-achieving nature. All had gone well thus fare and the troublesome dish was in the oven with a hovering Hermione watching unblinkingly. She knew from extensive preparatory reading that any jostling would make the lovely dish fall flat.
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Perhaps it was the mouth-watering fragrance of Seamus' Apple Amber that drew Draco away from leaving with the tart he had iperiously demanded from the elves and coerced him into silently spying on those in the class. He was incredulous at seeing magically-able students cooking in a Muggle fashion. Why would any witch or wizard lower themselves to not only perform menial labor, but to do so without the benefit of magic? Doing so was paramount to blasphemy in the Malfoy mindset. Turning to leave in disgust, Draco froze and blinked in disbelief. The vision had not changed, but a snicker started at the sight of Finnegan, his uniform covered in pink. Not just any pink, but a frothy cotton candy pink. There were even layers of ruffles going over his naturally broad shoulders and a large crooked bow holding the ... well, skirt section together in the back of the apron. If only that snivelly mudblood Creevy had snapped a picture!
Looking more intently at the rest of the class in hope of seeing Potter similarly attired, Draco's eyes lit upon a mass of bushy hair over a burgundy apron staring into an oven. Obviously she was nervous about some creation still brewing. Oh to get back at her, just to ruin anything! No one seemed to even notice his presence...promising. Slipping his wand to the ready, he debated over the perfect spell for such fortuitous circumstances.
A timer dinged, drawing the good professor's attention. Finnegan collected a potholder for each hand and gingerly worked the bubbling confection out of the oven. Another ding pulled McGonagal's gaze even further from Draco's perch as Bones pulled the last layer of Honey Cake out of her oven.
A flash of emerald shot out of Draco's wand on a direct path to Granger. Finnegan straightened, turning toward the butcher block table and managing, in his typical way, to muddle his way into the green beam, or at least his confection did. Draco was disappointed not to see Granger suffering under Tarantallegra, but couldn't help being delighted in the ensuing chaos.
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The spell exploded the lower half of the Irish dessert, causing it to splatter towards Hermione, showering the unknowing students in hot, saucy projectiles. The golden top raised with the force of the spell's impact, then tumbled directly down onto the watching face of Professor McGonagall, blinding her momentarily. Padma Patil's plaits now oozed apple clumps which flung into Ginny's face with an ill-timed turn. Assuming herself under attack, the ginger-haired girl launched a pastie back, missing a stunned Padma and striking Susan in the chest. Seamus turned towards the sound and closed his apron skirt in the oven, lighting it afire.
Soon chaos was reigning, the gleeful uncontested king. Students tossed bits of earlier projects indiscriminately, caught in the mayhem. The air was thick with food and smoke from the Seamus flambé. Hermione, however, was doing her best to reason and coax the others back to sanity...or at the very least calmness. Draco's eyes widened at the result of one poorly placed spell. This was better than anything he could have envisioned!
Ding! "My soufflé! Please, Ginny, shift a bit. It needs to come out! Come now, it is going to scorch!" Then the sound of a cannon and sparks filled the air, prompting Malfoy to exit, post haste.
The cooking students searched for the source in the sudden silence with hands paused mid-fling. "That will be quite enough! Please rescue what you are able of your final dishes and return your station to order!"
Hermione pulled a slightly flat, overly golden spinach soufflé out of the oven, glad that it was at least intact and looked edible. Though McGonagall tried to sort out the preceding events, she was unable to find the wand that had blasted the Apple Amber and started the whole mess.
Weary students made their way back to the Common Rooms to change out of their fragrantly soiled clothes after a long day of muggle-style cooking and cleaning, Hermione with a contented grin for a decently cooked meal and good grade.
However, one face had a brilliant smile and occasional chuckle that evening, for as she handed out his grade, the professor had told Seamus that judging on the flavor as it hit her face, the Apple Amber had been delicious. McGonagall had told Seamus "Great job, Mr Finnegan!"