A/N: I know next to nothing about restaurant hierarchy and culinary arts other than the minuscule amount I've seen on television so I've largely stayed away from specifics and hope I haven't made too many errors. And thanks for reading/reviewing my other entries for Fleurmione Week!
Rated M for innuendo, to be safe.
Day 4: Boss and Assistant.
Hermione slammed the door shut after she entered her apartment, threw her backpack on the couch, and let out a frustrated growl.
She hated her job. Absolutely. One hundred percent.
"That woman," she muttered, gritting her teeth. Okay, so it wasn't the job she hated. She actually loved it. But her boss…
Rolling her eyes, she stomped to her kitchen and took out an open bottle of white wine from the refrigerator. After pouring a generous amount into a glass, she went back to her couch and turned on the television, flipping to some procedural that would distract her from her infuriating boss.
But Hermione was too riled up to get caught up in police rigamarole and lawyer speak.
She'd started working at Delacour's a little less than a month ago and on that first day, she'd been ecstatic. It was her first position as pastry chef and she'd been actively recruited by several restaurants around London. When Delacour's came calling, it was a no-brainer. It was a relatively new restaurant, having opened a few months ago, and its reputation for quality and a menu which varied between traditional and innovative fare made it the hot place to be.
It was her own fault, really. In the interview, Hermione had let herself be lured in by a pretty French girl with gorgeous blue eyes. Executive chef Fleur Delacour was not much older than her but she held herself with such elegance and grace, she couldn't help but be impressed by her. It made Hermione curious, too. She wanted to get to know the woman behind the icy façade. Not even the warnings Fleur gave that she would be very demanding and strict in the kitchen could dissuade Hermione from taking the job when offered.
Hermione should've asked to observe the kitchen in action. She should've asked why the previous pastry chef had left. But Fleur had seemed so sincere when she had lauded her skill and expressed how much she looked forward to working with her.
"Ugh," Hermione huffed, downing her wine.
She should have heeded the chef's warnings. Fleur was indeed demanding and strict. She also hovered over her sous chef and others at all the kitchen stations, checking and doublechecking that everything and everyone were to her standards.
"Précision, William. Zat is what we deliver 'ere at Delacour's. Do it again."
"Ze recipe says ze onion should be sliced in ze French manner, oui? Zis is my kitchen, Monsieur Davies, you are not allowed to improvise unless I say it is okay. Do it again."
"Mademoiselle Granger, the peaks of zat crème chantilly are too stiff. You are well on your way to making butter. Make ze peaks softer. Do it again."
"… do it again."
"… do it again."
Hermione had been surprised but she was still willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. And she had to admit that trying to meet Fleur's high expectations made her work more carefully and efficiently than she ever had. Earning a smile made her feel like she was on top of the world and she tried for it every chance she got.
But the rose-colored glasses came off earlier today.
Fleur had questioned her technique while she was preparing the fondant for a cake she was making for that night's dessert menu and Hermione lost her temper. The blonde had stood right next to her as she was working, absentmindedly tapping the toe of one shoe as she asked question after question about flavor, consistency, thickness, her French accent getting stronger in her anger as Hermione's responses became more clipped and biting. Her breaking point came with Fleur's last jab at her competence.
"You are fondling zat fondant too much, Mademoiselle Granger. You will tear it with zose insistent fingers of yours."
Hermione had ignored the snorts and snickering she heard, which now that she thought about it happened quite frequently when Fleur was speaking to staff, but she had been too enraged to focus on why that was. The woman obviously meant to say 'manhandling' instead of 'fondling' and Hermione would not let language expressions keep her from telling her boss exactly where to put the fondant.
But when she had turned around to finally give the chef a piece of her mind, she caught sight of William Weasley, Fleur's sous chef. She didn't know him that well yet but she liked him well enough. He shook his head at her in worry and Hermione found the strength to hold her tongue, murmuring 'yes chef' as she went back to work.
She was not looking forward to work the next day. And she was beginning to question her decision to help Fleur out in her class at the local culinary school. Fleur taught a general skills course for non-professionals on Sunday evenings, when the restaurant was closed, and she had invited Hermione to be a guest instructor for two class meetings, the first one focusing on desserts and two weeks after that would be breads.
The frustrated pastry chef finished the last of her wine and promptly went to bed, hoping a good night's rest would help her endure work the next day.
*::::*
For what felt like the millionth time, Hermione wished she could have taken back her agreement to help teach Fleur's class. Yet here she was on a Sunday, on her day off, inside a classroom and waiting for the ice queen.
The students were a mix. There were middle age men and women, probably looking for ways to spice up their home menus. But there were also some eager looking college age boys which seemed odd but she just shrugged and found a stool off to the side of the class to sit on as they all waited for the chef to arrive.
Earlier she had exchanged texts with Fleur asking if it was okay if she waited inside the class and the blonde told her it was fine, that she preferred to walk in just as class started to avoid questions.
Hermione found that annoying. Why would an instructor want to avoid questions? Students wanting to learn should be encouraged and it was an instructor's responsibility to facilitate that.
Her mind changed when Fleur finally walked in. The whispers from the young men and their elbow jabs to the ribs soon made it clear why they were taking the class in the first place.
She could understand. Fleur Delacour was drop-dead gorgeous. She had long admired her and occasionally caught herself wondering if the blonde dated women. For reasons.
But Fleur was also brilliant in her profession and deserved respect, not ogling from co-workers, students, or anyone else.
Her hackles raised, she glared at the disrespectful boys and then turned her attention to Fleur, who nodded at her in greeting and offered a small smile.
"Class, please welcome ze Pastry Chef at my restaurant, Mademoiselle 'Ermione Granger. She will give a short talk on 'er occupation and zen 'elp wiz ze preparation of a few desserts and pastries such as éclairs, small cakes, and Poires Belle Hélène. Ze éclairs will take up much of our time so we'll make ze pastry first."
Hermione was pleased with the introduction and quickly forgot her anger from Friday about the fondant. Fleur just wanted things to be perfect. And if anyone could understand that, it was her.
She and Fleur worked well together as they moved through the class, helping various students with their pastry dough preparation.
"When piping ze dough onto ze pan, ze forty-five-degree angle is important but also ze pressure. Be sure to keep ze pressure constant. Ze ends of ze éclairs should be wider zan ze middle, not ze ozer way around."
While Fleur spoke, a couple of the college boys chuckled and whispered to each other. Hermione cocked her head, trying to figure out why they laughed. They caught her looking at them and quickly got back to their work. The situation seemed familiar somehow. Like the restaurant staff snickering at Fleur in the kitchen.
Hermione frowned but went back to helping the others. While the éclairs were baking, they prepared the cake batter for the cakes and the pastry cream for the éclairs.
"Remember for ze cakes, you don't want zem to dry out, ze centers should remain tender and moist. It is a lot of trial and error so be prepared to make adjustments according to your own ovens."
At that Hermione overheard someone mutter, "I'll show her tender and moist centers."
Oh.
OH.
She should've been angry and offended, and she was, but at the moment it was overridden by an intense heat burning up her neck and face.
This was what the others had been laughing at before. Fondling the fondant. Insistent fingers. And she recalled with new clarity some of the other things Fleur had said in the past. It made her blush harder. Hermione wondered if Fleur was even aware how her words were being interpreted.
Distracted, she almost missed a question one of the boys asked Fleur while she was at their work area.
"What tip should we use to pipe in the cream?"
The guy made a good effort to keep his face from breaking but Hermione could tell he was struggling. She wanted to stop Fleur from responding but she didn't know how without embarrassing the French woman.
"Ah, zis is a good question. 'Ermione, what tip do you like?"
Hermione gulped but schooled her features. "The bismarck."
"Oui, zat one is my favorite as well. Listen, everyone," said Fleur, raising her voice to speak to the whole class. "For piping ze cream filling, some like a star tip from a few entry points on ze backs of ze pastry but I like ze bismarck tip. It is long and slender. Just insert ze tip into one end in a gentle twisting motion and pipe directly into ze center, squeezing as you pull out and wiping up ze excess."
This was too much for Hermione. She turned away, trying to control her blush and feeling embarrassed that she was responding like this. It was expected from those guys but not her, an intelligent woman who never objectified anyone. And she hated how they stared at an oblivious Fleur, who only thought she was helping them. Hermione wanted to protect the other woman and kick those guys out of the classroom.
At the same time, she couldn't help the stirrings of desire she felt for her boss. It wasn't the first time she had felt it and there were moments in the kitchen when she thought Fleur was reciprocating interest. It wasn't often but sometimes Hermione would catch blue eyes watching her. Sometimes, after Fleur would wear her down with her questions and corrections, the chef would linger near her workstation, a gentle smile teasing at the corner of her mouth. It never went further than that. And she hadn't really been sure she wanted it to. So, she left her attraction in the back of her mind where it wouldn't bother her. Except right now she couldn't do that. Right now, she most assuredly wanted Fleur to reciprocate interest.
How was she going to get through this class now that Fleur just opening her mouth excited her?
Her worries abated somewhat as they managed to get through the class without any more unintentional innuendos. After class, Hermione stayed behind to help Fleur with clean-up.
"Zere's no need, 'Ermione. Ze students did much of ze cleaning already. But if you would like, we can go get a drink? I know a nice spot nearby."
Hermione's heart stopped beating as her eyes searched Fleur's face. She looked softer, much less cold than her usual self at the restaurant. And Hermione definitely wanted to take advantage of this opportunity to get to know her better. But her skin was still burning, the tightness in her stomach thrumming with need. There was no way she was going to be able to handle time alone with Fleur without making a fool of herself. Plus, she was the boss. Things could go so wrong if they got involved and it ended badly. If involvement was even what Fleur wanted.
"I can't. Teaching is actually more exhausting than I thought. But I'll take a raincheck?"
Fleur frowned slightly but nodded. "Of course. I'll see you at work tomorrow."
*::::*
The next week at the restaurant passed without incident. Hermione began to think she'd overreacted that night in class. Everyone said something now and then that someone else interpreted in a funny way. There was no reason for her to have let it affect her as much as it did.
Just as she started to get comfortable and find her rhythm, it happened again.
It was early Saturday morning and Hermione was in the restaurant kitchen preparing a three-tiered wedding cake, each tier a layer cake with a different filling. They didn't often take orders for catering or events but Fleur's sister Gabrielle was marrying her longtime girlfriend Ginny, who was also William's sister, and Fleur agreed that they would make the cake for free.
Unfortunately, Chef Fleur was late and Hermione was currently alone at eight o'clock and working as fast as she could to meet the afternoon deadline.
The cakes were already cooled, waiting on racks when Fleur rushed in.
"Je suis tellement désolée, 'Ermione. My family is a 'ot mess right now wiz ze preparations," Fleur said breathily, quickly throwing on her chef coat. "I cannot stay for long, my maman scheduled an early appointment for my 'air, but I will 'elp as much as I can."
Hermione was just starting the buttercream frosting and bit her lip, letting Fleur's apology sit in her chest until it batted down any and all comebacks that would've betrayed her annoyance. Weddings were stressful, she knew that. And she needed the help if she wanted to make sure she had plenty of time to decorate properly.
She nodded and was about to ask Fleur to prepare the chocolate ganache for one of the fillings when the blonde spoke.
"I'll butter your cream, you prepare yourself for ze next step."
The pastry chef blinked owlishly, not quite sure she heard what she thought she did. When Fleur nudged her to the side, she felt heat wash over her like a tidal wave and surely her cheeks looked like tomatoes.
Hermione fled to another table and got to work on the ganache, glancing over at Fleur every few minutes. Again, the other woman didn't seem to know what she had said.
How could she not? She was a grown woman, wasn't she? Smart, sexy. Been around the block at least once, she'd wager.
She was practically muttering to herself when Fleur came over and asked what she should do next.
"Ah… um… I've already prepared the raspberry mousse, lemon curd, and vanilla custard. They're in the refrigerator. The ganache needs to cool but we can start the filling, I mean, spread the filling…" Hermione's blush grew again but thankfully Fleur seemed not to notice and went to the refrigerator to get out the fillings.
The larger tier with the raspberry mousse was easy, and Fleur handled that. Hermione tackled the middle tier which had two fillings, the lemon curd with a layer of vanilla custard spread on top. Then Fleur took the top tier and spread the ganache.
"I think I can handle the rest, Fleur, thank you."
"Non, I will frost your cakes, too. I 'ave time," Fleur answered with a smile.
Hermione couldn't help thinking in her mind how she would love Fleur to frost her cakes and had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Fortunately, she was able to let it slide and keep working.
Quickly yet carefully, they applied the buttercream frosting to the tiers. Then they set them in the refrigerator to cool a bit while Hermione prepared her decorating tools and supplies. Thankfully Gabrielle and Ginny didn't want anything too elaborate. In the other refrigerator was the pink fondant she was going to use for the flower ruffles on the bottom and top tiers. Some other fondant ribbons would be applied on the middle tier and then voilà.
She'd almost forgotten about Fleur when she heard her speak again.
"Where would you like to be topped?"
Hermione choked and began coughing, images of non-sanitary uses of the kitchen prep tables flashing through her mind. This really was too much and she was ready to yell at her to stop it.
Turning to the blonde, she furrowed her brow and asked, "What?!"
"Ze cake topping. I 'ave it in zis bag. Gabi told you I would bring it, oui? Where would you like it to be topped? 'Ere or at ze venue?"
She carefully repeated the words in her mind. Fleur had omitted the word 'it' from her question the first time, that's all. An innocent mistake.
"The venue is fine. It'll be safer for transport to do it there."
"Bon. Well, I should go. Are you sure you won't attend ze reception? Gabi told me it would be okay and William can find someone to cover for you tonight."
"No, it's okay. I don't really feel like a party although I'm sure it'll be lovely. I hope you have fun."
To Hermione's surprise, Fleur almost looked disappointed. She nearly changed her mind, just to see that smile she loved, but Fleur gave a curt nod and exited the kitchen before she could speak.
It got her thinking about Fleur's invite to have a drink the previous week. And now this small disappointment that she wouldn't attend the wedding. Did Fleur want to get to know her outside of work that badly?
The thought made her warm. She promised herself that the next time Fleur asked, she would say yes.
*::::*
The next week went much like the last. A few days of smooth sailing and then Fleur would say something that made the staff snicker. Only this time, Hermione would have none of it. She glared at anyone that dared to laugh at their boss. She took William aside and scolded him for letting it go on, that it was his responsibility to keep the staff in line.
Her scolding seemed to work. The next day, Fleur clearly said a couple of things that would've garnered a reaction but staff stayed professional.
It wasn't as if Hermione wasn't affected by Fleur's words. She wanted to tease the blonde and make her smile and laugh. She wanted to flirt. But that wouldn't have been appropriate for the workplace. So, she held her tongue, wondering when she would get her chance, biding her time.
*::::*
It was Sunday, and Hermione was in the classroom early again. She'd actually arrived about a half hour ago to mix several batches of dough that were waiting to be kneaded. This would save time. Her focus today was teaching proper kneading technique using hands only. A stand mixer made it unnecessary but not everyone had one of those in their kitchen and she wanted the students to have this in their skill set. After the kneading lesson, her plan was to discuss different bread recipes and then they would make corn bread and buttermilk biscuits.
She was feeling hot earlier so she'd removed her chef coat and was down to a fitted black t-shirt and faded jeans. It made her feel more relaxed so she left it off.
The students filed in and she greeted them all with a smile, even the college boys, although she was resolved to give them the same glare she'd given her coworkers during the week if they stepped out of line.
Eventually Fleur breezed in, introduced Hermione again to the class, and then Hermione and Fleur quickly went around and gave a portion of the bread dough to each student.
Hermione spoke in front of the class.
"What you have in front of you is dough for a basic yeast bread. The type and recipe aren't important right now. What is important is kneading. All too often people either don't knead enough or they overdo it. Kneading isn't just for making sure the ingredients are properly blended. It also helps develop the gluten which is necessary to allow bread to enlarge without bursting."
She gave a hard stare to the college boys, daring them to laugh but they didn't. Then she gave more specifics about what kneading did to the dough and finally gave a brief demonstration with her portion in front of the class.
"Remember, ze 'eel of your 'and is your friend in zis endeavor," Fleur said, slapping the heel of her right hand with her left.
"And strong forearms," chimed in Hermione, a small smirk on the corner of her mouth.
"Of course," nodded Fleur. "Else you will tire easily. And kneading by 'and can take anywhere between fifteen to twenty-five minutes."
Sometimes less, Hermione thought, biting her lip as she looked at Fleur, her mind thinking of instances where it would take no time at all to achieve… what needed to be achieved.
The blonde didn't smile but the way Fleur's eyes sparkled made her suspect that the French woman knew what she'd been thinking. Hermione chuckled and moved through the class to help the students, occasionally exchanging more banter with the blonde chef.
After class, Hermione stayed behind again to help with clean-up. Her black t-shirt was covered with flour but she didn't care as she'd noticed during class how Fleur kept glancing at her arms. She had had fun with Fleur tonight and no longer cared that she was her boss. Hermione wanted this to turn into something and hoped they would finally get that drink.
As the last of the cleaning rags were tossed in the basket for the washing, Fleur walked to the front to grab her handbag.
"You really do 'ave incredible arm strength, 'Ermione. I watched you knead at least six people's portions and each time your consistent rhythm was gentle yet firm."
Hermione pursed her lips and tilted her head but Fleur's expression remained inscrutable. She decided to test her.
"Thanks. As a pastry chef, I also need to make sure my fingers are nimble and strong."
The blonde's expression didn't change but she noticed movement in her throat, like Fleur was swallowing hard.
They stared at each other and Hermione could feel the tension rising. She didn't know what was happening or what Fleur was going to say but dammit she was tired of this. Today's words and the ones when they made the wedding cake were too much of a coincidence.
At her breaking point, Hermione began to laugh. "Fleur! You know, don't you?"
"What do I know?" Fleur asked, her lips thinly pressed together.
"Come on. All the innuendos in class today? When we made your sister's wedding cake?" Hermione's voice moved up a register. She felt like she was going out on a limb but she didn't want to back down. "Even the other day at work, you watched me make cannoli and you offered to help finger them. I thought I would die."
Again, the French woman was unreadable. Maybe Hermione was wrong. Oh no, did I just make a fool of myself? I did, didn't I? Fuck.
Just as Hermione was about to go into full-on panic mode, Fleur cracked a smile. And then she laughed. And it was the most beautiful thing Hermione had ever heard.
"'Ermione, you are so cute."
"You did know." Hermione crossed her arms, pouting and marveling at her at the same time. This woman. This incredible, infuriating woman.
"Please," scoffed Fleur. "I am French. Double entendres are like breathing to us. But I admit, it was only some of ze time zat I knew. As you can tell, I do not always use your language appropriately."
Hermione laughed at the proud, smug look on the blonde's face, finally seeing through it to the soft woman underneath. She was proven right when Fleur's eyes dropped and she continued in an unsure voice.
"Zat said, I do zank you for 'elping wiz ze staff. I really don't intend to give zem zose zoughts and at first I zought nozing of it. It was easier to ignore but zen later I realized zat was poor leadership on my part and I didn't know 'ow to take ze 'arder line wizout losing what little camaraderie I 'ad with zem. So, zank you for 'elping make it a more professional workplace."
"Anytime, Fleur," replied Hermione gently, feeling a slight heat come over her face at Fleur's grateful look, a look that was quickly replaced by a more mischievous expression.
The blonde slid her arm through the strap of her handbag and asked, "Now, are we going to get zat drink tonight or not?"
"Wouldn't miss it. We can also grab a bite if you're hungry."
"Oh, you can be sure I will 'ave many," replied Fleur, her eyes raking up and down Hermione's arms, paying particular attention to her hands. When they landed on Hermione's eyes, she winked.
Hermione managed to find her breath when the blonde sashayed out of the classroom. She grinned to herself and grabbed her backpack. Fleur was full of surprises and she couldn't wait to discover them all.