All The Things I Hate About You, Part XII

Rating: M

Summary: All The Things, continued. Kate Advent, Day 12.

#12 Your household charms could use some improvement

The fire alarm went off in the flat again, dragging Draco from his otherwise restless post-work nap.

His eyes shot open, and he sprang up from his position on the sofa; in his minor brush of terror at the blaring sound, Draco had levitated himself nearly to the ceiling. Coming back down, he brushed off his cashmere sweater and crossed angrily into the kitchen.

"What the hell are you bloody doing in here?" He demanded.

She poked her head out from the open oven and whisked her wand to dispense of the smoke and the alarm in one fellow swoosh. "I'm cooking," she remarked drily, then waved a hand toward the mess of dishes. "Obviously."

"Granger, we talked about this." Draco sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No," she protested, "We agreed that I should no longer bake. We agreed upon no such thing in regard to cooking."

He let out an exasperated sigh, "Surely you must realize that you possess the skills for neither."

She huffed loudly and waved her wand over the burnt roast, bringing it back to life – or trying to. His nose scrunched in disgust as the blackened skin fell off to reveal a still-frozen pile of meat.

"Delicious," he remarked.

"Shut up, Malfoy." She growled defensively. "It was going to be for you but now - Wait - You know what? - I'd like to see you do better."

"In fact, Granger," he said with mocking sweetness. "I can do better. Unlike you, I happen to have excellent household skills."

He gestured to his overall perfect appearance momentarily before waving a hand over her pots of vegetables and potatoes, then finally over the sad excuse for a chicken.

"MALFOY. DON'T YOU'LL - "

Granger stopped her incessant screeching when the table of inedible disasters transfigured into that of a steaming array of Mexican delights. He nodded to the several dishes of a make-your-own taco and smirked, "You were saying?"

"OH, TO HELL WITH THIS!"

She angrily fixed herself a taco and stormed to the other side of the kitchen to sit at the kitchen island. She levitated the plate of savoury goodness toward her and then, after a second thought, slid it over to him and arranged another one for her.

"Why do you care so much about having exemplary culinary qualities all of a sudden?" He asked her.

She took the transfigured margarita he slid in her direction with a tight smile, "It's nothing."

"That's fucking rubbish," he noted. "Just spit it out, Granger, so we can both move on from this terribly uninteresting topic."

"You brought it up," she grumbled under her breath.

"BECAUSE YOU BLOODY SET THE FIRE ALARM OFF AGAIN,"

She took another bite of her taco, chewing slowly to avoid answering his question. In turn, he sipped idly at his own margarita and stared at her expectantly.

"If you're going to continue to derail my life and my coveted state of unconsciousness, then I think it's on fair that you - "

"FUCK, FINE MALFOY. FINE." Granger snapped. She downed the rest of her margarita before slamming it down on the counter and adding, "It's because of that empty-headed Brown that Ron is so insistent on being in love with."

"Seriously?"

"What?" She demanded, finally meeting his gaze.

"This," he gestured to the kitchen, then to her frazzled and peeved state. "This whole thing is about Weasley? You must be joking,"

"Malfoy, if you're going to - "

"What?" He interrupted, irritated with her heedless efforts to impress her ex. "If I'm going to talk some sense into you?" He stood and finished his own drink before leaving her in the kitchen to mull over her self-pity on her own.

As he expected, Granger came running after him, breathless. "I just don't understand," she huffed. "How can Lavender Brown be able to do these things and I can't. She has a food blog now, you know," she added with a grimace.

"That's hardly proof of her competence," Draco noted. He took a seat on the sofa and picked up the controllers, handing her one. She wordlessly took it and set up their newest game.

"Still," she muttered as she selected a cartoon dragon for herself and a narwhal for him. "Molly loves it, and she won't stop gushing about how positively wonderful all of her recipes are."

"Why do you care what Molly Weasley thinks?" He prompted, readying himself – as the cartoon narwhal chef in the game – to prepare a series of sushi plates. Granger meanwhile – as his counterpart co-chef – began running back and forth the screen delivering firstly ingredients and then subsequently dropping off the finished plates.

"I don't," Granger sighed. "It's just that she specifically asked me never to bring anything to any family gatherings, and I'm quite talented at charms."

"Brilliant,"

"No, Malfoy, it's not brilliant. That's the point – OH, FUCK. GET THE FIRE EXTINGUISHER - "

"The what?" He shouted.

"Never mind, I'll do it. You're useless when it comes to muggle artefacts," she snapped back.

"WELL HOW AM I EXPECTED TO KNOW WHAT THESE BLASTED THINGS ARE – GRANGER HURRY UP IT'S SPREADING – Fuck's sake." He scrambled to make up for the lost time, pausing in reality to slide her a sidelong glance. Noting unhelpfully that a tendril of her curls had fallen in her face during her concentration. "I meant that you're brilliant at charms," Draco added quietly. "Not simply quite talented, Granger. But brilliant – and at charms that are of much more importance than household ones."

"Household charms are important, Malfoy." She argued. "Yours are significantly better than mine. I've seen your spell work for keeping your ties in place regardless of whichever slippery material you choose and let me tell you, it's impressive."

"Silk, Granger." Draco shook his head, "It's not that difficult to identify bloody silk."

"You know what I was talking about," she said. "There was no need for you to be a pompous prat about it."

He sighed, "If you want to be bloody gifted in the kitchen, then improve your technique. It's hardly along the same difficulties as your office charms, and those are practically perfect in every way."

"Mary Poppins, really?" She judged with an arched brow.

Draco blinked, "Who?" But when she waved him away, he shrugged and went on. "I'm just saying, you don't need to be talented in the kitchen to be of worth to a potential partner. I would think you of all people would have some incredibly definitive stance on that." Weasley was an idiot for dating Brown when he could have worked harder at being deserving of her, and it had absolutely nothing to do with his necessity to be nanny-ed or Granger's lack of culinary skills.

"I - " She looked over at him, evidently getting run over by a car in the game as she stopped mid-crossing the street. "What?"

"Besides," he said, turning back to the game before he did something stupid from the way her eyes widened at him, pleading and ridiculously incorrigible. "Molly Weasley is hardly the epitome of culinary arts. Her opinion on the matter shouldn't be of significance to you."

"Oh," she muttered.

The game relayed a small storyline before taking them to the next level (bloody fucking hamburgers which was the most detesting of the silly cuisines they were forced to make for some equally repugnant walnut overlord).

During which, he turned to her after feeling her gaze boring into his prickled skin.

"You should really close your mouth before a pixie finds its way down your throat," he suggested non-too kindly.

"Right," She said, then rolled her eyes at him and nudged him lightly with her elbow. Playfully. It took everything in him not to nudge her back and lay her against the sofa, shutting her swotty mouth up by pressing his undeserving lips to hers.

At the end of the level, she paused the game and looked over at him sheepishly. "Malfoy," she drawled cautiously. "Will you help me? Teach me household charms?"

"Granger," he sighed, exasperated. "You don't need me to - "

"I do." She cut in. She blinked up at him. "I do need you." Then, as if realizing what she'd just admitted, shook her head and put the game back on play, preparing for the next blasted set of culinary instructions.

"Granger," he began tentatively, but she cut him off again.

"Don't," she sighed. "It's fine. I get it. Forget I asked." She paused, then shot him a playful smirk. "And don't even think about letting that comment go to your head."

"Which comment?" He pressed, a smirk of his own forming.

"You know bloody well which comment," she said, rolling her eyes. "I see it's already too late." Though, she didn't seem entirely too upset about that being the case and Draco fought a smile creeping up on his face.

A/N - Sorry today's update was late! Tomorrow's likely will be around the same time if not postponed until Saturday, my apologies. This one is for preetybeety, SabersDragon, and Mb2001 xx