Soufflés
Chapter 1
"All right, Headmaster," reported Hermione Granger under her breath, as she sidled into Miracles Mac wearing a red wig partial to her disguise. It was the latest and hotest Magical World fast-food restaurant in London. "The squirell is in the bag now. The squirell IS IN the bag"
A waiter immediately approached her upon noticing her presence. "Good evening Madam." He greeted her, simpering. "I gather you need a table for one?"
"Yes, please." She glanced around her. The place was crowded. Perfect! She would go unnoticed.
"Don't you have reservations, though?"
"I wasn't anticipating such a crowd." She bit her lip anxiously. So many lives were at stake; it was a weight on her shoulders.
"I am afraid you'll have to wait; for another five minutes I suppose…"
"No problem. Notify me when a table is available immediately."
She waited for the waiter to distance himself ("Will do Madam"), before pressing on her necklace, which beheld a camouflaged magically-operated microchip.
"No sign of yellow serpent yet. I repeat, no sign of yellow serpent yet. Yet there are quite a lot of bees bustling and buzzing around the honey pot, so one will keep their eyes open. LOT of bees; eyes open."
Albus calmly sat at the Order of the Phoenix Black Headquarters as he received the coded messages. Hermione, a very successful and trumendously paid Auror, had used her useful skills as a secret agent for her membership at the Order.
Her current mission: prevent Draco Malfoy from blowing up the place, which was strategically filled with muggle-borns, as predicted by Dumbledore.
Hermione's ears quirked at the sound of his familiar voice.
"Mother, you are about to enrich your taste buds with the finest onion souffle," She saw him wording; he was wearing a conspicous apron and was propelling towards a poshly dressed witch with a dish.
"Draco," Narcrissa hissed, glancing around herself fearfully as if hoping no one was staring. ("Yellow serpant sighted! Yellow serpant sighted!")"What are you doing? Put that thing back and sit with me! Do not tend me! Quickly, before anyone sees you!"
Draco sat beside her confused. "What's the matter, Mother? Have I done anything to upset you?"
"Haven't I taught you well? A Malfoy is always served! We have house-elves to prepare our meals! Not the other way around! What has gotten into you?"
"That's all very true and well Mother. But I enjoy cooking, as it's a relaxing activity which relieves stress and I happen to be good at it! Taste the souffle and see for yourself."
"You are a Healer," she hissed, face flushing. "You worked hard, became Salutatorian after that mudblood Granger who got her filthy hands on the title of Valedictorian. All this so that you could attain a measley undignified profession as a CHEF? A feminin past-time, nevertheless. Oh Lord, if my sorority hears of this…"
"Mother claiming that it's feminin is completely sexist of you. As for your sorority, well what do I care what they think? Besides, it's a respectable, well paid job…"
"Do not give me that," she interjected, slamming her fist rudely. "Healers are VERY well paid. And money is not an issue. When your scum father passed away, he left you the entire Malfoy fortune! It is ample to make you retire instantaneousely, and you are only nineteen! So don't question or contradict me in future young man- I am your mother and I know what's best! I remind you that chivalry and fidelity is of the finest qualities a Malfoy possesses after all, so don't you forget it."
Draco sighed in defeat. "Very well. I'm sorry for defying your judgement. I should put my good cooking skills to use once I have my own family, which I can cook for."
"Just do not do it in public then," she said, ushering him away.
"It was just a tryout today anyway;" he said he headed towards the kitchens wearily "you can tell customer services that the souffle was despicable and they will not consider hiring me."
"Do not forget to take off the apron," she said, reaching for her fork and eyeing the souffle with remote interest.
"Bomb about to be activated, bomb about to be activated!" Hermione whispered, raising her wand on cue. "Bomb in food. Bomb in food. Fork the activator. Fork the activator."
Narcrissa was an inch away from poking her spoon into the souffle.
"Terminato Souffle," Hermione shouted, pointing her wand at the dish.
The wand blasted a green light which shot towards the souffle. Narcrissa, wife of one of the most powerful and late Dark wizards, was too quick for her. She got up and shot the countercurse. The curse backfired. Some women around the scene started screaming.
Hermione quickly apparated away; she wasn't enabled to apparate outside the restaurant. So she settled for the storage room, and transfigured herself invisible.
She reported the incidents to Dumbledore, whilst listening to the commotion outside.
"She wanted to destroy the souffle!" Cried a man with a deep voice, possibly the manager. "Therefore, there is something fishy about it. Call the cook who baked it at once! In the meantime, go search for the intruder!"
Draco hurried over there. "My souffle's perfectly safe!" He said indignantly, eyes flashing with anger. "Here! Try the Revealo curse."
The manager obliged. An x-ray vision of the souffle appeared before them. The visage was danger free. "Let's have someone try it before we make any more assumptions," he said. "Dolem?"
"Certainly, sir." The waiter who greeted Hermione complied.
He poked his fork in to it, and took a bite. "Why, it's delicous. My compliments to the chef!"
At that moment, a waiter, a female around her age, open the storage-room door and stared blankly past Hermione- whom sensibly backed further into the shadows as an extra precaution despite her invisibility. Deceived, the waiter slammed the door shut and scurried away ("Storage room checked! Villain free!" She heard her call), causing Hermione to sigh in relief. Then it downed on her. 'Villain free'? She was here to save those muggle-borns from the supposed villain! She hurriedly shook off her outrage and continued eavesdropping.
"Mam, as a token of our apology for this ah… inconvenience," the manager stated solemnly to a harassed-looking Narcrissa "we would like to offer you free meals worth of twenty-five people. I assure you that this won't happen again; not if I can help it! And you young man," The manager turned to Draco, pretending to be oblivious to the fact that he is this customer's son. "You're hired. You can begin work right away!"
Narcrissa's lips pursed with displeasure, but it perished as a cunning expression suffused opon her face. Without further objection, she settled down to enjoy the star-struck souffle.
"Headmaster," Hermione whispered, somewhat panicking. "Your predictions were invalid! Yellow serpant did not embed destruction device in food."
She was not granted a response from Dumbledore, however. Clearly something was happening at the Headquaters! He was supposed to bail her out of her current situation. Now how would she get out of here?
Hermione did not have long to ponder on this. Someone apparated in front of her so suddenly that she had to stifle a scream.
The smirking face of Draco Malfoy stood before her. With one hand behind his back and the other holding a wand pointing right at her chest.
"Well well well, what have we got here?" He scorned, circling her. "Mudblood Granger! My my, I would not have recognized you if I had an IQ any lower than mine. It's been two years and just look at how much you've… physically matured."
She shivered under his icy gaze. He sneered at her upon noticing this.
"Now why are you here?" He asked testily. "You have come in here, shot a curse that has currently been declared illegal, disrupted the peace and vexed a customer. Mr. Zuber, the manager, is so furious he could land you in Azkaban."
Hermione never cried. She was after all a former Gryffindor that was built from hard material. But her reputation was under threat. And she had worked so hard and diligently throughout all of her school years to land the grades required to become an Auror. And now her career was possibly jeopardized. For her job is to place criminals in Azkaban prison, and not vice versa! While she felt tears trickle down her cheeks, Draco grabbed ahold of her and, before she knew what was happening, the two appeared at a dark and gloomy basement.
"Yes, Granger, I have utmost power over you now," he gloated, and to her horror he held up her red wig with the hand that was behind his back all along. "And here I was thinking you were smart. When you apparate, feebly detached objects such as these remain in their place as opposed to going with their owner. Now, all I have to do is say one word. Go out there. Show them this…" He gestured at the wig, "and your life is pretty much screwed! And there is nothing your Dumbledore can do about it now. For he's preoccupied with five of my… colleagues."
Hermione thought it was time she spoke up. "Your fellow death-eaters, you mean?" She spat. "Tell me; is your father amongst them?"
"Crucio."
Hermione felt unbearable pain as she collapsed onto the floor. Malfoy took advantage of her weakness to summon her wand. Now she was completely defenceless. She regained her balance, clutching her aching organs. She noticed that there was a gleam in his eye as he stood there thoughtfuly. She recognized it as the same gleam which would appear once he thought of something witty to tell Snape in Potions, and it usually would impress the later and the former's face would contort to smugness. She wouldn't be surprised if an illuminating light bulb appeared above his head, indicating a super-genius idea being formulated.
"Now where was I?" He said when he noticed her revival, with slight more enthusiastic invading his normally indifferent tone. "Oh, yeah. How much power I hold over you. I have been dreaming of this moment for oh, so long! Ruining the lives of one of the notorious Golden Trio! One of Potty's pals. This reminds me, speaking of Potty…"
He plopped the wig onto the hand carrying both wands. With the spare one he muttered an incantation that caused a jar to appear in its clutch. A quarter of it was filled with green- was that gas?
"Harry!" Hermione gasped, trying to snatch the jar off him. For a miniscule reduced Harry, who was missing since yesterday, was in that jar- held captive.
In an instant, Draco had muttered a curse that made the jar disappear.
"Now," he drawled, his face signifying total seriousness. "My terms. You will provide me with an heir to the Malfoys. We shall work on that tomorrow. You are to come alone and unarmed, or else. If you do not… Potty dies from the Merpoison and malnutrition. Plus I will wind you up in Azkaban for your recent crime and on top of that I snap your precious wand in half. And, do not think of choosing an alternative… such as rescueing Potty heroically alongside Weasel. It won't work. You see, he's at one of the many Malfoy Manors, I reveal that much. You and your pathetic team have been trying to track down one of them for- how many years? Two or three? To no avail!"
He gave a shrill laugh at Hermione's obvious comprehension.
"Why should I take your word that you would release him, once I play by your terms?" Hermione bellowed, clenching her fists with rage. "And what kind of terms are these?"
"Temper: keep it under control. These kinds of terms are natural, pertaining to one of the living processes of life: reproduction… and I will not have it any other way. And trust me, even though I know you never will. Once I hold my heir in my arms, approximately nine months from now, Potty will be back safe and sound at Hogwarts School. Unharmed. Well at least not physically."
At Hermione's arched cynical eyebrow he sighed exasperatedly and muttered a spell, which Hermione recognized from reading about it. A radiant contract appeared before them, hovering in the air. It stated the conditions that they have discussed. Malfoy snatched it, and signed. These contracts were magically bidden. No one dares defy them; otherwise the consequences are so very ghastly.
"You are to apparate to the Silver Broomstick apparition point tomorrow. Then you are to stand by room number 305. Later, we proceed."
Hermione whimpered. She did not want to touch nor be touched by the slimy git, her childhood nemesis. "Y-you're a H-healer," she cried. "Don't you have a clinic where we can execute the fertilization in a professional manner? And better yet, why me? I'm muggle-born!"
Draco ruffled his hair wearily. "In answer to your first question Mrs. Answers, I will not go for a clinic procession because it is no fun and it would arouse suspicion. As for the question of why you are my target, it's you because you have grown to be intelligent and powerful, quite beautiful and a brave Gryffindor, I admit. So you could say that we can overlook your unfortunate parental heritage. These are the qualities I want my child to have! Enough of this. I have wasted so much time. Be grateful that I'm not raping you on the spot. I assure you it would be much simpler. But I'm a gentlemanly Malfoy with chivalry, well as much as realizing my ambitions would allow anyway."
Despite the tense situation she was in, Hermione was beginning to wonder how much he'd go on talking before his voice broke down with exhaustion. He was yapping even more than Binns used to during his speeches and lectures, and that definately said something.
"Rant over." He announced, as if voicing her thoughts. "Just meet me tomorrow as planned, if you wish to see your scarred boyfriend ever again. Oh, wouldn't it be so ironically funny, the boy-who-lived-to-irritate-me-finally-dies-when-I-kill-him?"
And then, before he could apparate. He grabbed her and smacked his freezingly-cold lips against her warm ones. Although Hermione wanted nothing bettar to do than to push him off, she found herself weakly conceding that he was a good kisser. Passionate yet gentle.
He broke the kiss off and shot her one of his infamous smirks. "A tiny taste of what you're to expect tomorrow. Apparate home now."
And he disappeared. Hermione waited until she was securely home in bed before she broke down sobbing.
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