Dazed and Dumbfounded 14

Lucius stumbled out of the bathroom, a hand to his still aching forehead. He had just discovered a truly horrible hitch in his plans: Potter was scared of girls and got all tongue-tied around them. He didn't understand how the boy could possible slay all manner of creatures with ease and yet couldn't talk to a girl! Worst, he had almost been pleading to slay Voldemort so he could get out of seeing Pansy again. "Oh, how am I going to fix that?"

"Father!" Draco called cheerfully as he hurried up to the older man. "Are you all right, Father? You don't look very well."

"Harry obviously doesn't relate to girls very well…" Lucius admitted as he pulled on the cork stopper to a pre-made headache potion. "And he seems to think Granger is a boy…"

Draco smirked. "Well, I told you he'd never get a date without our help! What do you expect from a hopeless case like him? Still, I'm confident you'll whip him into shape. He needs a good, strong father-figure in his life, someone besides that awful Muggle uncle of his."

Lucius drank his headache potion and sighed as the painful banging started to subside. "Tell me, Draco, does he speak to any girls at all?"

"Just Granger and the Weaslette…" Draco drawled. Then his blue eyes narrowed as he studied the tall figure of his father. "Father, why don't you ever barbecue for us?"

The elder Malfoy blinked in surprise. "What?"

"I said why don't you ever barbecue for us?" Draco repeated, a sneer on his pointed face. He licked his lips as he remembered how delicious the cooked meat had tasted with the tangy red sauce. Hmm, it was pure Heaven. "I was informed that only real men barbecue and since you never do…"

"Draco, are you suggesting I'm not a man because I don't do this barbecue thing, whatever that is?" Lucius asked, his gray eyes darkening as he stared at his son. He didn't even know what a barbecue was! He knew Draco had spent the day by the Muggle's house and clearly the girl's parents had filled his head with Muggle nonsense.

"Well," Draco shrugged his black clad shoulders innocently; his blondish-white bangs hanging in his eyes. "If you think the Muggles can do something you can't…"

Offended by the very idea, Lucius rose to his full height and flipped his long hair smoothly behind him. "Draco, you very well know we're superior to Muggles! Need I remind you?"

"So you can't do it then, can you?" Draco asked, smirking. He was neatly maneuvering his father into doing what he wanted him to do, just as he always did. When he wanted something, Lucius normally caved in and bought it, but not always. Still, Draco knew his old man had his pride and he was counting on that to win. "You just don't want to admit there's something a Muggle can do that you can't!"

"I can do anything a Muggle can do and I'll do it better!" Lucius loudly proclaimed, his pride getting the better of him.

Draco smirked. "Good. Then you'll barbecue for us tomorrow? The grill is out in the backyard."

Lucius watched his son saunter off to his bedroom, a feeling of panic in his stomach. What had he just agreed to? He didn't even know what this barbecue was! Turning on his heel, he hurried back to Potter's bedroom and flung the door open. "Harry!"

The Boy That Lived opened his green eyes and stared at the hated Death Eater that had put him through so much torture. He had been lying in bed thinking up how he'd get to see Dumbledore. It was either that or kill Pansy… "Now what do you want?"

"You were raised by Muggles. Tell me, what is a barbecue?"

"Its when you cook food outside on a grill…" Harry explained, his voice bored. He had seen his Uncle barbecue lots of times and often he'd been the one to end up doing the actual cooking, Vernon preferring to socialize with his guests. "Why?"

"Cook?" Lucius' face paled in utter horror. "I'd just agreed to cook?"

"It's not that hard…" Harry commented as he enjoyed seeing the pained look on the Pureblood's face. "You just slap some meat on it and it cooks…."

A dark eyebrow rose. "Really?"

"More or less…" Harry replied, hiding a smile.

"Well, it sounds simple then." Lucius sighed with relief; sure he'd be able to do a grand job of it tomorrow. What was he worrying about anyway? Muggles did it, for Merlin's sake! Still, he didn't actually care for the idea of cooking. It was servant stuff, far beneath his station. "Tell me, Harry, do Muggle men really do this barbecue thing?"

"My Uncle does." Harry honestly admitted. "Are you sure I can't kill Voldemort for you?"

"Not tonight, Harry." Lucius backed out of the room and closed the door. He best get to bed, as it looked that tomorrow would be a long, trying day.

The next morning dawned bright and early, Hermoine appearing in the fireplace amid a cloud of green flames. She hurried out, eager to find Draco so they could start baking cookies. Pausing in the beautiful living room, she tilted her head sideways and listened. The house was silent and she guessed that mostly everyone was still asleep. Setting her black portable boombox down on a nearby coffee table, Hermoine went in search of the kitchen. Although Draco had claimed he'd never seen it before, Hermoine located it easily. The warm room was packed with house elves wearing tea towels and they immediately tried to shove all sorts of food at her. "No! I don't want any food! I want to bake cookies!"

This resulted with over a dozen house elves offering her plates of cookies.

"No! I want to bake them myself!" Hermoine insisted firmly. Her resolve started to soften as dozens of house elves grew sad, their ears drooping. Sighing loudly, she held out her hands. "Oh, all right! Give me those cookies!"

Sack of cookies in hand, Hermoine left the kitchen. Dragging the too-heavy sack along the highly polished floor and over Persian carpets, she smiled politely as she meet a still yawning Lucius. "Good morning, Mr. Malfoy! Tell Draco I'll be right back as soon as I ditch these cookies by Hagrid. Then we can bake in the kitchen!"

Eyes half open, he watched her drag the heavy sack into the fireplace and disappear in green flames. Yawning again, he rubbed at his tired eyes. Had she just said baking? The Pureblood shook his head. He must have misheard her, as he was still half asleep. Any sensible woman wouldn't be caught in the kitchen. It would ruin their make-up and manicures…

Lucius frowned. Hermoine, the love of his son's life, was not a sensible Pureblood girl. No, she was a Muggle-born. Perhaps she actually was planning on baking in the kitchen. What a horrible thought. A shiver of dread passed through him and he realized he best go hide somewhere before she tried to drag him into that as well. Draco had already tricked him into that barbecue nonsense…

But it was too late. Hermoine reappeared amid green flames and hurried out of the fireplace, two aprons in her hand. Dashing up the grand staircase, she soon found Draco's bedroom and flung the door open. Going in, she saw he was still asleep, one arm dangling off the bed. Marching up to him, she gripped him by a shoulder and started shaking him. "Draco, wake up!"

"What?" He mumbled sleepily as one blue eye peeled open. Deciding it was too early to get up, he rolled over onto his side, gripping the light blanket with both hands.

Hermoine tightened her lips into a firm line, brown eyes glaring. "We're going to bake cookies, remember?"

"Have the house elves do it…" He mumbled sleepily as he closed the eye that had been open.

"No, we're going to do it!" Hermoine insisted as she stood there watching him trying to go back to sleep. Glancing at her Muggle style watch, she saw it was past nine AM. "It's a beautiful day outside, Draco. Surely you're not going to spend it sleeping, are you?"

Hoisting himself up onto an elbow, he opened both eyes and stared at her. He had to admit she was beautiful. A smile crept across his lips as he gazed upon her. "No, of course not. I need to shower and dress though."

A brilliant smile spread across Hermoine's face and she excitedly hopped on her toes. "We'll have fun! You'll see!"

Draco scowled as he threw the blanket off and sat up in bed. He was wearing silk pajamas in the exact shade of Slytherin Green, so he wasn't worried about Hermoine seeing anything she shouldn't. Besides, she was obviously used to bossing Potter and Weasley around. And it pleased him to no ends that she had chosen him over the other two boys. Realizing this was the perfect opportunity to tease her, his mood grew happier. Smirking, he rose to his bare feet and moved closer to her. "So, Hermoine, will I get to stand close to you while we do this baking thing?"

"I suppose…" Hermoine replied, taking his question seriously.

"Because you realize," Draco continued as he inched yet closer. "That I don't have the foggiest idea how you bake anything."

"Well, you…" Hermoine paused, her voice dying as she suddenly realized he was standing right before her, his mesmerizing blue eyes gazing into hers. Before she could move or think a coherent thought, he bent forward and kissed her passionately. His lips locked on hers and she closed her eyes to enjoy the sensation. The kiss deepened and just before she thought she'd pass out from lack of air, he pulled back.

"You know, I really could get used to waking up this way…" Draco grinned.

"I … I'll be downstairs." Hermoine said as she hurried out of his bedroom. Once downstairs, she paused to collect herself. Kissing Draco always left her feeling weak-kneed and out of sorts. Spotting her portable stereo where she left it, she picked it up and carried it into the kitchen. She knew the Malfoy's kitchen would be well stocked and would most likely have everything for baking cookies. Setting the boombox down on a table, she thought they could listen to some music while they baked. It would make the experience more enjoyable for Draco, more fun and less of a chore. She was telling the house elves what ingredients she would need when she heard Draco calling her. He had evidently been telling her the truth when he had stated he'd never seen the kitchen. Poking her head out of the room, she called him over.

"So this is the kitchen…" Draco drawled as his blue eyes darted around the large room filled with numerous house elves. Not seeing anything worthy of his attention, he shrugged and focused his eyes on Hermoine. "So, tell me again why we're doing this?"

"Because it's fun!" Hermoine replied. "And you get to eat it afterwards."

"It's just as fun eating what the house elves have cooked." He stated as he peered at a large sack marked FLOUR that waited on the table. "Although I do admit I managed to convince Father do barbecue later today…"

Hermoine's eyes widened at the startling news. "You did?"

"Yes, I did." Draco smiled in triumph. "I just repeated to him what your dad told me: that only real men barbecue. Guess he felt that his manhood was threatened, so now he's going to prove that he's a man."

"Well," Hermoine's face grew serious. "I just hope he doesn't burn it."

Draco turned his attention to the table full of ingredients. "So, is this like making potions?"

"A bit, yes." Hermoine reassured him as she picked up the two aprons off a nearby chair. Putting one on, she handed the other to him.

Draco eyed the feminine piece of fabric with clear distaste, his upper lip curled. He glared at the offered piece of clothing with hatred in his eyes. "I'm not going to wear that! It's worst than Weasley's dress robes from Fourth Year!"

The apron had a big that covered one's chest with a loop of fabric that hooked over the neck. Red ruffles lined the edges and cheery red apples were appliquéd on the two front pockets. The rest of the apron was eggshell white and it looked very old-fashioned as if it had come straight from a 1950's kitchen. Bright red sashes allowed it to be secured around one's waist. Raising it up slightly higher, Hermoine peered at it, slightly puzzled. "What's wrong with it?"

"Hermoine, it's an apron." Draco stated, rolling his blue eyes.

Glancing down at the almost-matching apron she wore, Hermoine lifted her chocolate brown eyes to return his gaze. "There's nothing wrong with wearing an apron! Lots of men wear aprons while in the kitchen! You don't want to get your nice clothes all dirty, do you?"

"I suppose not." He sighed and accepted the girly thing, a grimace pasted to his face. If anyone saw him wearing this horrid thing, why, he'd be the laughing stock! Feeling very weird, he put the loop over his head and tied the straps around his waist. Tilting his chin downward, he frowned in disgust. The red apples looked too cheerful for a Slytherin. "Why does it have to be so cheerful for? Don't you have a stylish black apron?"

Hermoine laughed and it was her turn to roll eyes. "Draco! If you wore a black apron, we'd never see it!"

"That's the idea, isn't it?"

Still laughing, Hermoine turned on some music. Soon the kitchen was filled with a peppy beat and she started to teach him how to make basic cookie dough. Soon Draco forgot his embarrassment of wearing the frilly thing and he concentrated on the work before him. It was similar to brewing potions, except there was no cauldron and the stuff was a lot thicker. Between the two of them, they prepared two batches at a time, Draco copying her exact movements with his own batch of ingredients. Then the cookies were shaped and placed on flat trays. The house elves happily stuck them into the oven and removed the hot trays to cooling racks when the time was up. Before they knew it, the delicious smell of cookies spread throughout the entire Manor.

Lucius had been hiding out in his office, pretending to be working on a scroll while actually dreading the barbecue thing. A sweet scent drifted through the open doorway and he raised his nose, sniffing the air. He had no idea what the smell could be or where I was coming from, but he rose from his chair and headed out the door. He was soon joined by Harry who was coming down the staircase and by Narcissa, who emerged from the Lady's Parlor.

"What's that smell?" Narcissa asked, a puzzled look on her pale face.

"Someone's baking." Harry stated. "Cookies by the smell…"

"But the house elves cook." Narcissa replied, still perplexed. "We don't smell anything when they do."

"Maybe they cook using magic." Harry shrugged. He really didn't know all that much about house elves except for Dobby and that one had been annoying. "This is Muggle baking, I guess."

A pale hand covered in sparkling rings was raised to Narcissa's open mouth. "You mean a person is in the kitchen?"

Harry stared at her oddly. "You act like you've never been in the kitchen."

"Me? In the kitchen? Don't be ridiculous!" Narcissa stuck her nose up in the air. "I don't have to go in the kitchen because that's what house elves are for!"

"Do you even know where the kitchen is?" Harry asked.

"Of course not!" she exclaimed, feeling insulted. "And as my son, I forbid you to go in that horrid place, either!"

Harry smiled at her, feeling amused. "I hate to break this to you, Mom, but I've been cooking since before I started First Year…"

"Oh, I feel faint!" Narcissa raised a hand to her forehead and swayed lightly on her feet, her eyes closed. Opening one eye slightly, she checked whether Lucius was about to catch her. But to her dismay, he had moved off elsewhere with his nose jammed up in the air to follow the scent. A scowl formed on her face as she watched him disappear trough an unused doorway that led … somewhere. "Men! Always thinking with their stomachs!"

Harry snickered, both hands over his mouth. He now knew whom Draco had got his acting abilities from. At school Draco loved to moan, groan and pretend he was dying from injury while he was just fine. He even walked around for a month with his perfectly fine arm in a sling just to get attention. Narcissa was doing the same sort of thing, pretending she was ready to faint when she wasn't.

"What are you laughing at?" Narcissa asked as she eyed her new son.

"Nothing." Harry replied and dashed after Lucius through the doorway.

Lucius, meanwhile, was gawking open-mouthed at his Pureblood son wearing some apple sporting, ruffled thing. And this big room, why, he'd never even seen it before!

Hermoine smiled happily and offered him a plate of fresh baked cookies. "Have some cookies!"

"Draco, what is that thing you're wearing?" Lucius asked, unable to peel his gray eyes from the cheerful monstrosity.

"Oh, it's just an apron, Father." Draco drawled calmly as if it was nothing. "But you can wear it when you barbecue later today! We made desert, but you'll have to make the meal."

To be continued…