AU!

Warning: swear words used

THC, Round 3

Standard

Slytherin, DADA

Prompts:

(Song Lyric) "But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger/ You'll learn things you never knew, you never knew" from Colours of the Wind

(colour) green

WC: 2283

Betas: Bea, Dhrish, Becca, Hope, Aya

"How the fuck am I supposed to get this damned thing to work?" Draco snarled, slamming his fist down on the oven and then crying out in pain. He held his hand to his chest and scowled at the dials. "What kind of Muggle fuckery is this?"

"Wow, Malfoy, you kiss your mother with that mouth?" Harry teased, elbowing him out of the way. Draco's potty-mouth was the result of being forced to spend time with Harry's best friend, Ron, whose vast array of swear words eventually rubbed off on the most virtuous people.

Harry bent over to turn on the oven, and Draco's eyes immediately honed in on his arse in those Muggle jeans Harry loved so much. Harry turned his head and called out over his shoulder, "You know I can feel you staring at me, right?"

"Fuck off, Potter," Draco snarled, turning his back on him. Annoyance washed over him when Harry only laughed, the sound joyous enough to secretly melt Draco's cold, dead heart—which he claimed he had, but Harry refused to believe it.

Two years ago, Draco had walked into Potter's Patisserie and kept taunting Harry about his subpar baking skills—which Draco still claimed as fact. The Gryffindor-Slytherin duo had developed a strange acquaintanceship which soon turned into a romantic relationship that many did not understand.

"Okay, the oven's on now," Harry said, stepping away from the strange contraption. "If you're going to keep sulking, should I start—"

Draco whirled around and shoved Harry out of the way. "I'll make the damned cookies myself, Potter. I'll make them even better than yours! I don't need your help, so you can leave now."

"Are you sure about that?" Harry teased, cocking his head. His stupid green eyes shone with mischief, and Draco bristled at the thought that his boyfriend was laughing at him. Harry seemed to have suddenly become emotionally mature enough to recognise the danger of laughing at Draco, so he added, "I'm just saying that I'm the one who bakes for a living. I have a bakery and everything—you didn't even know how to turn on the oven!"

I stand corrected. Potter's definitely an idiot.

Yes, it was true that Draco had never worked in any kind of kitchen before, but Harry should have been more sensitive about the subject. When the invitation to the Hogwarts Five-Year Reunion arrived, Draco had finally agreed to take the time out of his busy schedule of schmoozing Wizengamot members and Ministry officials to bake cookies for the party; despite never having done something like this before, Draco had decided to do this to see why Harry loved baking so much. His boyfriend should have the decency to at least acknowledge his actions; Draco was new to this.

"You know what? You can get out of this kitchen because I don't need your negative blabber about being better at baking than the average mortal," Draco snapped, whipping his wand out. He might be out of his depth in Harry's field, but he wouldn't let that stop him. He pointed it at Harry's chest and demanded, "Get out!"

Harry threw his head back and his shoulders shook with the force of his laughter. "Alright, alright, no need to threaten me. But still… if you do need any help—"

"Get out." Draco sent a Stinging Hex at Harry's shoulder, and the black-haired man let out a high-pitch squeal before dodging and hurrying out the door, the sound of his laughter trailing behind him.

Making warm, buttery cookies seemed simple enough. The recipe was in the book, the ingredients were all laid out on the table, and Draco knew enough Potion terms to understand what he needed to do.

But when he actually started the process of following the instructions from the book, that was when disaster struck.

The first step was cracking eggs, which had seemed simple according to the book. Draco had cracked several Potions ingredients over the years, so this should've been easy enough for him. But he was wrong.

Draco grimaced as broken pieces of egg shells fell into the bowl. He tried using a spoon to remove them, but they kept on slipping away from him. Draco snarled before dipping his fingers into the disgustingly warm eggs to pull out the shells. "Finally!"

Draco wiped his fingers on his expensive apron—he wasn't a heathen, after all—and added the melted butter (he did know how to use the microwave) and sugars to the bowl. The butter stuck to his fingers again, and he absentmindedly raised his hand to lick it off. Unfortunately for him, the taste (and smell) of egg yolks clung to his fingers, and Draco gagged and hurried to scrub his hand clean. He made sure to use the expensive hand soap he insisted on buying and then sniffed his fingers to make sure nothing unpleasant lingered on his perfect hands.

Then, it was time for him to use the mixer.

Draco came to a decision to use the highest setting to mix the batter; he assumed it would be much easier than starting from the lowest setting.

Oh, how wrong he was!

The sound of the mixer turned on was so loud that it gave Draco such a shock, and he dropped the hand-held machine into the bowl. Specks of the batter flew through the air, painting the wall, Draco, and the kitchen counter in warm yellow flecks. Draco screamed and tried to grab onto the mixer to stop it, but it was on the highest setting and kept on vibrating erratically and making that ridiculously loud noise.

"Oh, babe," Harry cooed, suddenly appearing in the kitchen doorway. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall, a wide smirk on his face.

"One more word, and they'll never find your body," Draco hissed, his heart pounding in panic as he finally figured out how to yank out the plug from the socket. He couldn't believe how loud the machine was!

Harry laughed and walked over to Draco's side. He picked up a washcloth and began wiping Draco's face, a huge grin on his face. Leaning closer, he kissed Draco's nose and said, "That was... adorable."

"I have a reputation, you—"

Harry quickly closed the distance between them and kissed him sweetly. "Next time, start with the lowest setting first. That will give you the chance to get used to the grip."

"I hate you," Draco grumbled and shoved him away. Harry laughed and walked out the door, leaving Draco to reluctantly follow his advice. Harry was a baker, so he must know something.

And then...

"Why in Merlin's name is the amount of food dye needed not mentioned in this godforsaken book?" Draco hissed under his breath as he held up the bottle of green food dye in between his thumb and forefinger like it was a bomb about to go off. "What kind of idiot wrote this dumb book anyway?"

"Do you need my help yet?" Harry yelled from the living room. "I won't judge!"

Even though he so clearly needed help, Draco's eyes narrowed on the door. "How many times do I have to tell you that I don't?"

"Alright, I'm still here though!"

Draco rolled his eyes and cursed Harry for being so damn sweet. He flipped through the pages to search for any mention of the food dye, but there was nothing that he could find. He hesitated as he glanced at the door, wondering if he should just ask Harry about the amount of food dye he should use to make the cookies green, but then, he remembered he was a Malfoy—and Malfoys never asked for help.

He steeled his resolve and then flipped the entire bottle of dye into the batter. He experienced a moment of terror as the green dye floated on top of the batter, but he shoved his fear down and began mixing the colour into the sugary batter. He used a spoon this time because he did not like the noisy contraption and swore to use it as little as possible going forth.

The colour swirled and swirled, and Draco held his breath as the batter turned a dark shade of green.

"Ha! Yes! Slytherin-green cookies!" Draco took a moment to celebrate his little victory by fist-pumping the air and then looking around to make sure Harry hadn't seen him do something so Muggle.

He quickly moved to the next step, which was to stir in the flour and the chocolate-chip pieces. To his growing irritation, the flour flew up in a puff when he tossed it all in at once, and he accidentally snorted some of it. Sneezing, he grimaced and thought, 'This is nothing like making Potions!'

The muscles in his arm ached like nothing he'd ever felt before as he stirred and stirred, and the batter slowly began to form a thick lump. Finally, after what seemed to be forever, it was done.

Lining the tray with baking paper, Draco began scooping the batter onto it. He tried to get the balls to stay in shape, but to his annoyance, they refused. They softened and flattened as he placed them on the tray. He swore under his breath before shoving the tray into the oven.

Here, he hesitated again. He hadn't allowed Harry to teach him about the different dials, so he didn't know how to turn them to the proper time. He crouched down and inspected the buttons, hoping that somehow, magically, he would know what to do.

Just then, Harry's hand reached over his shoulder and pointed at one of the round dials on the left. "That's the one you want."

Draco shrieked at Harry's sudden arrival, and he tumbled over onto his side. He glared up at Harry, who was howling with laughter, tears of mirth streaming down his face. "Don't scare me like that, Potter!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Harry cackled, bending over double, his arms around his waist. "You should have seen your reaction!"

Draco grumbled as he got to his feet and glared at a still-laughing Harry. "I told you I don't need your help."

"Yeah, but have I ever really listened to you?" Harry teased, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand. "Besides, I really want to see how your cookies turn out to be, so here I am!"

Draco scowled but turned to the oven and turned the dial to the left. Harry cleared his throat pointedly, and Draco understood he had done something wrong, so he quickly turned the dial to the right. Harry threw his arm around Draco's shoulders and led him towards the door. "Don't worry too much, babe. Your cookies will be fine if you followed the instructions."

Draco didn't reply, but he was secretly pleased Harry was comforting him. He really was out of his depth here.

"What did you do to them?" Harry whispered, staring at the flat disks that Draco called cookies. They were almost black in colour.

Draco scowled and crossed his arms. Despite the results, he was not willing to admit defeat. "I did exactly what the book said."

"Why are they so flat then? Why are they so black then?" Harry wailed and then suddenly grinned. "Hey, that rhymed! I could be a rapper!"

Draco stared at him with disbelief before shaking his head. "I told you I did exactly what the book said!"

"What did you do with the butter?"

"I melted it. Why?"

"You weren't supposed to melt the butter. You were supposed to use butter that was at room temperature," Harry said slowly.

"Does it matter?" Draco scowled.

"Yes, it does! Because now, the cookies will be soft and chewy and you won't like them."

Draco's scowl lessened at Harry's words. "Oh…"

Harry picked up one of the cooled cookies and flipped it on his palm. "Why are they so… black?"

"They were supposed to be Slytherin-green," Draco muttered, his ears warming. Harry was mocking his efforts. Couldn't he be a bit more appreciative of Draco's venture into something so Muggle, something so foreign?

"How much dye did you use?"

Draco ducked his head and grumbled, "The… whole bottle."

When there was silence, Draco looked up and found Harry trying to muffle his laughter. Draco snarled, "Stop laughing at me!"

Harry burst into peals of laughter and reached over to touch Draco's face, but Draco angrily took a step back. Harry continued laughing as he grabbed Draco's arms and dragged him into a fierce hug. Draco tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but Harry held on. Finally, Harry kissed Draco's temple and said, "Honestly, Draco, there's no shame in asking for help. Especially when it is about something you don't know anything about."

"I'm a Malfoy—"

"And Malfoys don't need help—yes, yes, I know," Harry said with a roll of his eyes. He cupped Draco's face. "But you're human, too. And all humans need help from time to time."

"It's… not something I'm used to asking for," Draco muttered, not meeting Harry's soft gaze. He had just wanted to bake green cookies to showcase his House pride—he would have even tried baking red-coloured cookies for Gryffindor if he had been pleased with his result, but he wouldn't anymore.

"We'll work on that." Harry tilted his head and pressed a soft kiss to Draco's mouth, smiling when Draco let out a soundless sigh. Harry really could be cavity-inducingly sweet at times. "We'll also work on your cookie-baking skills—after all, it is humiliating for a baker's boyfriend not to know these little things. What will people say?"

Draco stood corrected again. Harry could be a complete jerk.