Dramione Prompts Challenge
Prompt: Person 1 gets back from the supermarket with a cookbook. Super excited, Person 1 shows Person 2 the cookbook and decides to make them a strawberry cake. Person 1 is having trouble with multiple things (you decide) and says things like "I got it!" Person 1 messes up the cake to a point where it's inedible and agrees to try again with Person 2's help.
Chapter 2: Smells like Strawberries Part 1
She was right by her prediction that it would be around mid-afternoon that they awoke. For it was 2.30pm before any one of them stirred. And when she did, she got up, looked at her room in the sunlight, tidied up her crumpled hair with a sigh, and then unpacked manually enough to have enough clothes and towel to take a shower. She was over and done with magic for now. She wanted to experience the new york life without magic and masquerade in with the rest. She didn't want to carry around her magical existence with her like a curse, a painful bitter memory.
Her wand was stowed at the very very bottom of her trunk, and that was the only magical item she had. It was there for emergencies just in case, but she doubted she needed it.
As she walked to the bathroom, she noted Draco had slept with the door open. The sunlight was falling across his soft blonde hair as he lay there, almost too small among the sheets and duvets and everything. He'd slept with the door open, probably crashed without thinking too much about it.
After she showered she found Draco in the kitchen doing the dishes, evidence of unpacking of his suitcases in his room. She should definitely get to unpacking as well. His hair was ever so slightly rumpled, wiry bits of blonde sticking up in wayward strands, and he looked a picture perfect sort of disheveled that made her want to look away. She cleared her throat, "thank you," was what ended up coming out.
"No problem," he said. Everything sounded recited and rehearsed.
"I see you've started unpacking," she said as way of conversation.
"Yes. We should aim to get everything sorted out in the next day or two," he muttered, "so glad the landlord left us some groceries and things in the fridge that the last occupants had before moving out. But we'd need to get our own soon. No sharing okay? Except for if we explicitly say so-"
"When would we explicitly want to share," said Hermione.
Draco looked slightly hurt by that, his eyes flickering away. Without having thought about it, Hermione realised she touched on a dark point. He didn't like being reminded and treated like he was scum after the war. She cleared her throat, "I'm sorry-"
"Forget it," he grumbled, then added, "ever heard of a christmas pot luck? It was always family tradition to give treats to every living thing, including the house elves, on that day."
Hermione nodded.
"And we're storing our items separately. We'd mark our own with our name and it would work out," he finished.
"That's good. I'm going to do some grocery shopping now, some items I need to get for myself too. Do you want to give me a list of the items you want and I'll pick it up to save us the trip?" And also the awkwardness of a shopping trip together, she thought. Draco nodded.
A few moments later Hermione had a list. Which was fairly small for the amount they needed. Food items for her, some new books, planners, a little bit of this or that, some feminine hygiene items which was what she had needed to get, but she didn't mention it to Draco. Wanting to conserve luggage space, Hermione had mostly packed things like clothes and perhaps a pencilcase of pencils and towels and some toiletry items like toothbrushes and things like that, but anything academic or some other items, she had planned on buying over here. Draco's list also comprised of food. Hermione was glad to see that from the looks of it he intended on cooking for himself, or at least, partially himself. She supposed the rest of his plans for meals were going to be take-away. As well as the same stationery requirements as hers, a few odd bits here and there. Nothing too difficult to get.
They bade goodbye and Hermione left to do some shopping and errands, hailing a cabby. She'd have to work out the car situation soon.
Meanwhile...Draco got to work unpacking. He couldn't believe his eyes. He was dorming with Hermione, out of all people. He stared out of the window absentmindedly as he unpacked his clothes and hung them up in the closet in his room.
If he thought any ghost or hint of the old pureblood prejudice and hierarchy system remained after the war, he was dead wrong. So, so, wrong. After the war he was discriminated and jostled and treated like the very shit and scum he supposed other witches and wizards pinned on him because it was easy to treat him like a scapegoat for the system. He didn't muse upon it often, mostly because there was nothing more to say or think that he hadn't already said to his friends Theodore, Blaise and Astoria, or thought angrily inside his head. But before the war, the old pureblood system was highly looked up to. It wasn't even witches and wizards, animals were also included in the system and assigned their places below them. People looked up to witches and wizards with old blood. There was power. There was money. There was wealth and prestige.
He supposed that was what Voldemort used to trick the old witches and wizards of power to support him and back him. His family had held the slightest of suspicion all throughout these years but didn't dare say anything until after the war. Apparently the old purebloods had a bit of an ego trip, from the way witches and wizards were founded previously. With the purebloods rising to the top in what were difficult and unpredictable ancient times of the first wizarding civilisations. Times were unpredictable in the first wizarding civilisations sworn to secrecy, so of course, families with previous generations of magical folk in their family tended to fair better, in the economy as well as everything else. And over time that lead to a system that was perhaps far too preoccupied with blood status than anything else. Just as Dumbledore, the great leader whom Draco still didn't like the name of, for personal reasons besides just his political stance in the war, fought Grindelward (yes, Draco knew as much) and revolutionised the wizarding economy to be a bit more open to the recent swarms of muggleborns.
It was also when Voldemort, used his cunning and wit to suss out that the ruling class in wizarding world reeked of old prestige and beliefs of purebloodism prejudice. And so he took them up by a storm and pretended to lobby for their thoughts and their beliefs, pretended those were his own, and attempted to tell them his plans and desires for the wizarding world was to restore the fallen morals of the old families.
And it worked.
Families donated back to him in the old days. Invited him to his home to house the death eater gatherings. Believed in lending him their faith and money because he would apparently lead them to glory.
And then the war happened. He didn't want to relive it again in his mind. He knew what happened.
And then the war ended.
And all that was left was a wizarding world that had last and truly, said goodbye to the beliefs of purebloodism and power and hierarchies, and cast that side of blood prejudice in the past.
He didn't return to Hogwarts after the war. Couldn't stand it.
Instead. After the war Kingsley Shacklebolt came into power as minister of magic and from then on things had been changed. Muggleborns were more welcome as ever, it was seen as 'positive' and 'good' diversity, and Hogwarts was eagerly welcoming them, as well as other sectors of society for they stablished the exchange rate between wizarding currency and muggle currency and simulated the economy. New jobs had opened up in the ministry, welcoming more muggleborns. They were given more attention and consideration politically. There was now a three-week co-curricular program that introduced muggleborns to the wizarding world, teaching them things like how the floo network worked, about St Mungles, the prominent wizarding hospital and banks, all of that information, as well as other things. Hogwarts, if ever, was not a place where discrimination occurred. It was all in the past and now horribly taboo.
Blood status was no longer a thing.
Of course, Draco's father had suspected, ever so slightly, just the tiniest tiniest sliver of doubt for a long time, as with some other prominent deatheaters, that perhaps they were just being played by Voldemort. Taken in for a spin. He didn't really believe their values, he just cared about immortality and Potter. If he really cared about their values he wouldn't have squandered their wealth and resources hunting down that wretched boy for 17 years just because he didn't die from when Voldemort tried to murder him as a baby. A baby, who probably meant no harm. If he really cared about their values he would forget Potter and work to do what he promised to do within the remainder of his lifetime. Which he didn't. The evidence that all he cared about immortality was growing stronger.
Lucius never said anything, to Narcissa nor Draco, directly or straightforwardly, during the war and thereafter, but it wasn't until about three months later, when he first broke the silence and within a few short tense words in the family. It was clear that it had been a thought spiraling around inside their heads for a little while.
Draco...wasn't quite ready to face the consequences and all of that, everything, so soon. He just knew a little bit of the truth now, more than he did before, and he also knew that the wizarding world hated him. Hated his parents. Hated everyone of their kind. Being a deatheater, or a pureblood, or any of that was no longer the pride point it had been. No longer anything to talk about, anything to show. It was meant with more than derision and scorn. Especially his families. He was exiled, outcast, almost like. Wizarding folk spat at him, especially as his family dobbed in the names of other deatheaters to regain their freedom. They called him names to his face, some of which were too coarse for any sane person to want to repeat. He was sometimes pushed, shoved aside, by certain members as he walked past. Certain places refused him service.
It was the same.
Of course. The wizarding world also expected great things of him. Some families held him in a certain regard. As if waiting to see him rebuild his life and do something big. To prove he wasn't a loser.
He didn't quite want that. Didn't want to deal with the wizarding world. With mother's heavy stares, her questions demanding as to why he hadn't gotten a girlfriend yet. With everything. The expectations. The burdens. The judgement and scorn in everybody's eyes that was seemingly burnt in the back of his mind. Unforgettable.
New York was his salvage. It had taken him relatively little effort to convince his parents. He was going to masquerade as a muggle for several years. He had his wand stowed away in his trunk but that was it. He was going to study a degree that could also be translated into wizarding studies, and afterwards, he may get a job in the muggle world, he may go back to the wizarding world. He wasn't sure. He just knew he wanted away.
He didn't return back to Hogwarts, he did however, study at home and still sit the final exams, earning himself sufficient grades. He did do some networking and made connections in that year as well.
And now...he was in New York. A muggle for the next three years. He hoped to find something, anything, from his time there. Perhaps a band-aid to heal all the wounds. He didn't know. He didn't know.
But all he knew was that he was none the ever more surprised to see Hermione there with him when he first came in. He felt so wretched and awful that night, as he'd just had a row with his mother about something. He couldn't make it to his flight so he cancelled and went on later one, claiming it was delayed to Hermione. He arrived in his new york flat, hungry, tired, and wanting to escape the silence and doubting thoughts that was coming to mind. He just didn't want to spend the first night in New York alone.
And so that was what prompted him to poke the sleepy, tired, brown-haired doe-eyed girl at the table to eat cereal with him because he didn't want to be alone.
He stared at the table where she used to be. Tired, taunt, stressed, probably with her own worries, but yet, a certain sort of casual ease and carefreeness as she humoured him and they ate cereal at 4am that night. He wanted to hug her, press her hair close to his and thank her for keeping him company on that first night in such a fragile and intangible way he had never quite felt before.
He was pulled out of his stupor and his unpacking by the door unlocking and footsteps heading into the kitchen.
He poked his head out of the doorway.
"Finally! That taxi was late enough! We should really do something about a car!" she said, "oh and, I got a cookbook." She dumped the groceries on the table, began putting them away. A dainty pink and cream themed cookbook peered out at Draco from it's spot on the desk, advertising this month's best recipes, which was apparently retro themed from the past.
"A cookbook?" he said, recognising it was one of the more showier ones for fun good and not basic necessities like breakfast, lunch or dinner food.
"Yes. My mother has one, but I never did all that much cooking at home. House-elves did it at Hogwarts and," Hermione glowered darkly as she said it. Draco remembered the days of SPEW with a fond amusement.
"my parents insisted I didn't take on all the chores when I came home for the holidays. I thought to fully live the muggle experience though," she added, staring at it. He could tell she was excited.
"You can tell me about it," he said with a grin, "what is it that you're interested in making?"
"Cakes, baking," quickly Hermione ran him through the brief recipes she wanted to try. "Look, there's a strawberry cake. I might want to bake that. You up for joining me? We should aim to cook together for the first couple of days until we figure out our own schedules. It saves time you know."
"Doesn't sound bad. Mind if we order up some pizza or something?" asked Draco, "I'll get hungry."
"Sure," answered Hermione.
And so she got to work excitedly bringing out and measuring out the ingredients once she'd packed everything else away. Draco checked the items with a sigh of satisfaction as he realised most of the ones he requested were truly there, and watched her measure out a few more before it meant he had to help. There had to be something said about the casual simplicity of the moment.
Author's Note: Thanks for the favs and the follows! A few reviews wouldn't be bad either :P Just to let you know, this story will most likely be updated sporadically (on a whim when I feel like) and I'm 1000% motivated to see it through so it won't be deleted anytime soon. Also, I'm a bit sad no one responded to the last question but to tell you my own response - I always prefer to add the milk first. It gives the cereal an extra crunch imo! Anyways, enough yabbering, thanks for reading and please review! :)
-Whymsicalbell
