A Harry Potter Fanfiction
By Silver and Suchan deFamine
Category: Ficlet ….not more than six chapters can I promise you. Maybe four. Iono. Keep reading, I'll keep writing.Warnings: Slashy situations/relationships. (maleXmale) Don't like it, get the hell outta here RIGHT NOW. Flames will be used to melt your face off.
Ratings: PG-13 for scenes kiddies should take care to avoid.
Disclaimer: Alas, none of the Harry Potter stuff is mine, it is all the property of Ms. Rowling…. I, however, do own a toy Hogwarts castle that makes funny noises when you push buttons. Oo Onwards!
Silver: And now, ladies and gentlemen, let us begin our story……
Chapter 1: An Introduction to True Kitchen Chemistry
Heed, my children….
There was once a castle. To the untrained eye it may have looked like an abandoned, broken storehouse, but to those who attended the school within, it was a gorgeous, magical stronghold, full of twists and turns, love, hate, sorrow, happiness, failure, triumph, and learning.
Those children who attended were bright, sprightly, and full of wonder. Nothing could possibly make their lives miserable.
Except, of course, when the headmaster added a new mandatory course for sixth-years—Magical Cooking.
Ronald Weasley, now sixteen years of age, stared hopelessly at his full schedule. "This is batty! Magical cooking?! What would we need that for?"
A girl with hair in tight braids looked up at him over her newspaper. "It would be best for you to know how to feed yourself once you graduate from Hogwarts." Hermione shook her head, braids swinging back and forth. "I don't think I like these braids after all. I may just settle for that bushy rat's nest again."
"Never a truer word spoken, Mudblood."
The black haired boy seated next to Ron glared up at the speaker, pushing his glasses back up his nose. "Get lost, Malfoy."
Ron chanced a look at the Slytherin standing behind Hermione. His eyes bulged. No longer was he glaring at a pale-faced boy with platinum blond hair. Malfoy had gone completely…. Goth.
His hair was shiny black and fell forward over his eyebrows, now quirked for a malicious grin. The black liner around his eyes swept outward like wings, and lethal-looking hoops and daggers dangled from his left ear.
"What's wrong with you, Weasley?"
Ron shook his head and glared as best he could. "Nothing. What the hell happened to your face?!"
The blond-er, black haired boy shrugged, said, "Nothing," and walked away.
Ron silently tore his paper napkin to violent, twisted shreds.
Back at the Slytherin table, Malfoy, for once in his life, was being ignored and made no move to correct it. He poked at his potatoes, then paused to scribble something on a notepad. A loud burst of laughter exploded from the other end of the table, but the boy never looked up.
He knew they were all laughing at him. He didn't care anymore. They weren't important.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way to the kitchens, ignoring the Slytherin's insults and the people rushing about.
"Hey, Harry…I don't think that insult was pointed at you…" Hermione mumbled as Harry gave a sneering Slytherin the finger. She pointed at the Gothic kid walking down the hallway with his head down, humming quietly to himself.
Ron recognized Blaise Zabini as the centre of the jeering crowd, throwing out the most dagger-like comments.
"He's probably pissed off 'cause Malfoy refused to fuck him or something," Harry muttered. Everyone knew what a slut Zabini was. "C'mon, we'll be late."
The kitchens were full of Gryffindors and Slytherins looking slightly apprehensive, bored, or angry at the thought of having to take a cooking class.
"Cookin's fer womens!" one of the Slytherin boys complained, earning a slap on the ear from Hermione. She wasn't one to stand for sexist comments.
"God, Flint, next year there's not going to be anyone to cook for you. Are you going to survive on TV dinners?"
"Sure?"
Hermione deliberately chose a spot across the kitchen, farthest away from the Slytherin Quidditch captain. Harry and Ron sat with her.
"Who d'you think is teaching this class?"
Harry shrugged. "I just hope it's not Dobby……" His voice trailed off as a plump-looking witch entered through another door, carrying a stack of cookbooks. She set the books on a countertop and smiled at the sixth-years staring incredulously at her.
"MOM?!"
"Hello, Ron, dear," Mrs. Weasley said amicably, shuffling to the front of the room. "Hello, everyone. I'm Mrs. Weasley, I will be teaching this class. I expect you've all brought your books?" Some people waved their beginners' cookbooks in the air. "Good, good. Now, if you'll all open them to the first page and read the introduction while I prepare the tools…"
Cracking open his book, the redhead stole a casual glance over to the once-blond Slytherin. He was calmly, if not apathetically, reading the introduction to the cookbook. It would seem he had not even noticed that Mrs. Weasley was standing in front of them, the very blood traitor Malfoy had injected abuse at every day in front of her hot-headed son. The boy was obviously coming down with something.
He shook his head and looked up, swept his gaze over the crowd of Gryffindors littering the left half of the room.
Ron's eyes locked with Malfoy's. He looked away, turning a colour to match his hair. Ron glared at his book and cursed Malfoy for, for… for looking at him!
He buried his freckled face in the ring-bound cookbook and fumed silently, until Mrs. Weasley instructed them all to turn to the next page and come up to the counter.
End Chapter 1.
Well, I feel this is coming out very nicely, much better than I planned. What do you think? Comments, ja? Glad to have em! Danke! :P ::has become a total German nut during her first month of high school, just ignore her!::