Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the HP universe, the wonderful JKR owns it all.
A Conspiracy of Epicurean Proportions ~ Chapter Two
They arrived at their destination five hours later than anticipated, half-frozen and a few Galleons lighter. The inept peon in the Portkey office had sent them to Alaska of all places! It had taken Jessica's compelling powers of persuasion and a small payoff to convince the official to expedite a Portkey for them. The American hadn't appreciated Hermione's snide comments about proper procedure and crooked bureaucrats, so they spent two freezing hours at the top of Mt McKinley waiting for the small American flag to transport them to Manhattan as punishment.
The magical section of New York was located in Greenwich Village, the entrance tucked between two storefronts on 6th Avenue. It was an enchanting place, larger than Diagon Alley, and full of bookshops and apothecaries that Hermione would have loved to explore. Unfortunately, exploration would have to wait for another day as it was already late. Luckily it was just a short walk to the small flat that the Ministry had sublet for them and it didn't take long for them to unpack and settle in. Sometimes magic did come in handy.
They spent the next few hours reviewing what little information they had on the case. When they were through, Jessica insisted on questioning Hermione incessantly about everything from her position at the Ministry to her relationship with the boys and her days at Hogwarts. She didn't ask tangible questions though, nothing that could be answered with a definite yes or no. She wanted to hear about Hermione's emotions, how she reacted to situations and how she felt about her life.
Truth be told, this made Hermione very uncomfortable. She did her best to avoid answering Jessica's probing questions and attempted to steer the conversation back to work subjects. She had never done well with feelings; her life was about facts and logic. She had survived all these years using her brain with only minimal interference from her heart. Following her heart seemed to backfire spectacularly on her. Hadn't her protectiveness of her parents ultimately been the reason she had lost contact with them?
The next morning, at Hermione's insistence, they had taken a bus tour of Upper and Lower Manhattan. They needed to familiarize themselves with the neighborhood, since it would be one of their responsibilities to keep track of the culinary school's alumni that still lived and worked in the city. Jessica was being her irksome self, chattering nonstop and churning out random facts faster than any guide could. It had been the same in Alaska; Hermione now knew more about the mating ritual of the Caribou than she ever wanted to.
Hermione found New York to be oppressive; the buildings were squeezed so tightly together that the sunlight barely reached street level. Central Park was an oasis in the jungle of concrete. It was one of the only redeeming features in an otherwise stark and dreary city.
"Did you know, Harmony that Central Park is eight hundred and forty-three acres? Isn't that amazing, in a city like this, to have a park so large?" Jessica asked as the bus slowly made its way back towards the Village and the end of the tour.
Hermione grunted in agreement. She'd realized early on that this was the best way to deal with her partner; any other input was taken as encouragement to keep talking. She wondered if she had been this irritating at Jessica's age. She knew she had been thought of as a 'know-it-all'—hadn't the boys called her that often enough—but she didn't think she was as random, or as annoying, as Jessica was proving to be.
This was going to be a very long assignment if Jessica continued to be this obnoxiously energetic and a know-it-all to boot. Between the city and her partner she'd be ecstatic when this case was solved and she could go home. And that wasn't even taking into consideration the fact she was required to pretend she enjoyed cooking—enough to consider making it a career.
As they made their way back toward their flat Jessica stopped to peer into a store window. "Lets pop into the grocer and pick up some provisions," she said. "The take-away last night was awful. I can't believe they called that curry. We'll have to remember to never order from there again."
They entered the Trader Joes on 14th and Hermione followed with the cart as Jessica selected items from the shelves, her only addition to their purchases being a few inexpensive bottles of wine, which would be used later for drowning out Jessica's non-stop prattle.
Thank Merlin she had brought so much reference material with her as she barely recognized half the items in the store. She had already memorized cooking terms in English, French, and Italian, and she knew by sight every kitchen utensil you could think of, but from the look of things she'd better study actual types of food. How many types of cheese could there possibly be? She felt like she was in potions class all over again, but for some reason these were things she felt she should already know.
They arrived back at the flat ten minutes later. Hermione poured herself a glass of wine and attempted to sneak off to her room for more research, but Jessica caught her as she started to shut the door.
"I thought we'd make something easy tonight. Italian would be good, don't you think, Harmony?"
"Whatever you want, Juliet," Hermione said flatly, reluctantly walking back to the living room. Jessica had insisted on using their aliases the minute they had left the briefing on Friday. It was annoying the hell out her, but partly because she hadn't been the one to suggest it.
"Great! Could you slice the tomatoes and fresh mozzarella for our salad while I start preparing the chicken?" she asked in that bubbly voice that made Hermione what to throttle her.
"Do you like mushrooms? I found some beautiful baby portabellas at the market. I thought we could use them in chicken Marsala. Top it off with a salad, and maybe some kind of vegetable. Do you have a favorite vegetable?" Jessica asked as she zipped around the kitchen arranging ingredients across the counter.
"I love broccoli personally. Can you believe broccoli has been around for over two thousand years? The name comes from the Latin word brachium. Fitting, yes? Shall we sauté it with garlic and butter? I'll start steaming it if you mince the garlic," she rattled on as she placed the tomatoes and cheese on the table. She stopped talking long enough to look up at Hermione, a smile on her face.
"What's wrong?" she asked, her smile fading when she noticed Hermione's expression.
"So this is why you were chosen for the assignment," Hermione stated bluntly.
Jessica looked confused for a moment, and then as the meaning of Hermione's words dawned on her, her face fell even further marring her pretty features. "I suppose so." She gestured to the room. "I do know my way around the kitchen."
She turned her back on Hermione and started pounding the chicken. "My family owns a restaurant in Nottingham; that's where I grew up. My mother is a chef, so is my uncle. I didn't know I was a witch until I received my Hogwarts letter. Mum really didn't want me to go, wasn't sure she wanted a witch for a daughter. Thought I'd grow up and follow in the family footsteps." A touch of annoyance had crept into her voice.
She turned to look at Hermione who still stood in the doorway. "Can you start slicing, please?"
"Jessica ..."
"Juliet."
"Juliet, I didn't mean that like it sounded," Hermione began. "I had just wondered …"
"Why they chose a rookie to come with you?" Jessica finished her sentence, irritation punctuating each syllable.
"Well, yes. But I can see that you have a lot to offer to this mission," Hermione said, back pedaling.
"I have a lot more to offer than just my cooking skills."
"Of course," she said in another attempt at placating her partner.
"Do you really believe that? Or do you think I'm some kind of air-headed little twit who slept her way to this position? I've heard all the rumors being whispered about me, I just didn't think you'd believe them. I thought you'd do a little research. See that I actually have qualifications for this kind of work. Isn't that what you're famous for, research?" Jessica snapped.
Hermione was taken aback. Jessica was right. Everything had happened so quickly that she hadn't bothered to investigate her new partner, had just dismissed her as an annoyance she would have to deal with. She was obviously intelligent, evident in the amount of facts she could recite from memory, and she had dealt with the Alaska fiasco with diplomacy and patience. Her skill with a wand had yet to be tested in front of Hermione, but she would guess that Jessica was proficient in that also. Perhaps she had been unreasonable in judging her too quickly.
"You're right. I didn't make inquiries, or even take the time to read your file, and I apologize for that, but you needn't be defensive about the whole cooking thing," Hermione said. "I was just making a statement."
"I'm not being defensive over that! I'm angry because had you been even remotely interested in getting to know me, you'd already know that I could cook. Do you realize you haven't asked me one personal question the entire weekend? I guess the rumors about you are true."
"What?" Hermione asked stunned.
Jessica silently Summoned the wine bottle from the counter and poured herself a glass. She swirled the contents and took a small sip before she spoke again. "When I found out that you were an Unspeakable, I was beside myself with excitement. I'd be working with the female third of the famous trio! The brains behind the brawn. You're a legend at Hogwarts, you know." She took another sip of wine, her mouth puckering at the taste.
"The stories of your escapades are retold time and time again, bedtime stories for first years. Courage, bravery, ingenuity, cunning. You symbolize everything a Gryffindor strives to be."
Hermione waved her hand in irritation not even noticing the compliment in Jessica's words. "What rumors? Who's talking about me?" she demanded.
"I was surprised you were still doing fieldwork though. I thought by now you'd be in a director position or some equivalent. I suppose the gossip is true about your lack of…"
"What gossip?" Hermione yelled, infuriated. "I'm damn good at my job. I have the best record in the department, not an infraction in my file. I've never stepped out of line, never broken the rules; I do my research and solve cases! Half the nitwits in the department have gotten themselves into trouble behaving impulsively. I've rescued half of them for God sakes. And those are the fools they promote!"
"Exactly," Jessica said calmly, cocking her head to one side, reminding Hermione of Luna. "You get the job done. You find clues in the minutia, apply logic and solve cases. But you don't have an inkling about the human factor. What makes people lie and cheat; what makes them commit crimes. Emotions like passion, rage, obsession. You always play by the rules, but you don't realize the rules change when human beings are involved. What happened to the girl I heard so much about? The girl who would break the rules when she needed to? The girl who led Umbridge into the forest? I'm sure that was against the rules, wasn't it? But you did it anyway, didn't you, for the greater good."
"That girl, and her rose colored glasses, is long gone, Jessica. Life has opened my eyes to reality; everything we did at Hogwarts was luck. We should have been dead ten times over. The things we got ourselves into were pure stupidity! But this has nothing to do with my performance as an Unspeakable, I …"
"But it does, Hermione. It really does. All those things you did as a teenager, all the rules you broke, and all the scrapes you made your way out of happened because you used your brain but followed your heart." She finished her wine and stood up.
"That makes you a whole person, heart plus head. Somewhere you lost your heart and it's a shame, a damn shame," she said and walked out of the kitchen leaving a stunned Hermione in her wake with a meal waiting to be prepared and no idea how to do it. ooOoo
The next day dawned grey and gloomy, matching Hermione's mood perfectly. She had desperately tried to dismiss her conversation with Jessica. What was wrong with being logical? It had proved to be beneficial on more than one occasion. She had never been in a position where her 'feelings' would have served her better than her head. Look what had happened the night Sirius had died. Had Harry listened to her logic, they would have never have gone to the Ministry. And Sirius would have never followed.
Harry always followed his heart and never gave a second thought to the consequences. While it ultimately worked for him in the end, it almost always backfired in some shape or form, biting him in the arse more times than not. She learned to turn that part of her off a long time ago. It made her life easier, it made her hurt less.
Was that why she was still alone with only one surly cat for a companion? Did she have problems relating to others? Others, of course, being anyone other than the boys and maybe Ginny.
Maybe she should try to listen to her feelings more and her head less. Take risks and stop analyzing every move she made.
Or maybe she was analyzing Jessica's words too much, and she should just forget the whole conversation.
She dressed quickly, grabbed a cup of coffee that Jessica had thoughtfully brewed and headed out the door for her first day of class.
The school was on Broadway, just a short bus trip from their flat. The classroom consisted of long stainless steel tables partitioned off into individual workspaces. Hermione found Jessica chatting with a tall, dark-haired boy who reminded her of a young Viktor Krum.
"Harmony," she called, gesturing her over, "I saved a space for you." She was back to being her sweet and charming self. Hermione wished she could forgive and forget that easily.
She smiled up at her new friend. "Alex, this is my cousin Harmony. Harmony this is Alex. He's a native New Yorker. Isn't that interesting?"
Hermione nodded her head and attempted a cheery smile. Her stomach was in knots. The room was a bit overwhelming and she didn't feel prepared. Jessica tilted her head giving her a searching look, then turned back to her conversation with Alex.
She nervously arranged then rearranged the utensils in front of her as she waited for their instructor to arrive. Her classmates chatted and laughed, eagerly awaiting the first step of their chosen careers.
The door slammed open unexpectedly, causing a knife to slip out of Hermione's hand and fall to the floor with a loud clatter. Feeling her cheeks redden, she dove to retrieve it and froze when she heard a familiar voice begin to speak.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact skill of the culinary arts," he began softly.
"There will be no books in this class, no relying on others to do your thinking for you. You alone will create the magic required to construct your masterpieces." He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but the class had stilled, not wanting to miss a word
Hermione felt the hair rise on the back of her neck. She knew that voice, had listened raptly to the knowledge spewing from those lips in reluctant admiration for years.
"I don't expect half of you will really understand the delicate beauty of a softly simmering pot with its enticing aroma, the subtle yet immense power a well-prepared entrée can wield, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses … I can teach you how to bake fame, braise glory, achieve distinction—if, that is, you aren't as big of a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach," he finished with a snarl.
She stood up slowly feeling dizzy. He wasn't supposed to be here; he was supposed to be dead. She had watched him die a slow agonizing death! She had searched for his body in the aftermath, but had never dreamt that he had actually survived. It had been assumed his body had been disposed of by a Death Eater before Voldemort had fallen.
CLANK
She dropped the knife again when she caught sight of him. He was pacing the middle of the room dressed entirely in white, his longish hair pulled back from his face. The sallow complexion she remembered had been replaced with a light tan, and with his sunken cheeks filled out his large nose no longer looked out of place on such a thin face. He looked healthy, and younger than she knew him to be. Dare she even think it, but he looked … almost handsome?
He turned instantly toward the noise, Hermione swore she saw his clothes billow slightly, and raised an eyebrow at her. Looking down at the attendance roster in his hand he said, "Ms … Gage?" A lip curled in distaste. "Surely my introductory speech hasn't left you wanting to run yourself through with a knife already. That usually doesn't happen until the second lesson, if indeed you make it that far."
A/N: This story was written from a prompt by the fabulous Duniazade for the winter 08 version of the ss/hg exchange on live jounal. Thank you to everyone who held my hand while I wrote - Dee, Deanna, Sara, Cyn, Sonia - You guys are the best!