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Bold = Parseltongue
September 22nd, 1998
Tuesday Evening
"Excuse me, Harry?" A sweet, timid voice said from his side.
Harry looked up from the book he'd been reading to see a girl in Slytherin robes, one from his year if he wasn't mistaken, waiting patiently albeit with a hint of nervousness a few feet from him. He tried to recall her face at the moment, and after a few seconds, he did; Tracey Davis. As far as he could remember, the Slytherin girl was a loner since her two friends decided not to return to Hogwarts, those being Daphne and Millicent — she'd tried approaching him once earlier in the month, but she'd baulked when Fay and Seamus joined him.
"Yeah Tracey?"
He hoped he hadn't gotten her name wrong, though the face she pulled certainly shot down some of the confidence he'd spoken with.
"I hope this isn't too stupid a question, especially since we've never talked before, it's jus- I, well," Tracey paused, a blush forming on her face as she'd stumbled on her words and took a few breaths, "I heard you cook good… uh, well, I mean."
"Who told you that?" Harry questioned with a cocked head; surely only Hermione or the Weasleys would've known.
"G-Ginny Weasley did," Tracey squeaked out before trying to backpedal. "I… Sorry, that was really weird of me to ask, I know. I didn't mean to bother you, it's just, not many blokes cook all that well here and Ginny bet me a few Galleons since I didn't believe her."
Harry watched Tracey for nearly ten seconds while deep in contemplation, a myriad of things going through his mind, such as; was the girl lying to him, did Ginny actually bet her in regards to his cooking skills, why would she do so in the first place, and most importantly, why had Tracey been speaking with Ginny about him in the first place?
There was only one course of action he could take that'd satisfy him.
"Okay, let's go."
Tracey took a few quick steps back when he stood up, asking him what he meant as she did so.
His response was to look at the Slytherin questionably before he stepped further from her and motioned to the doors that led out of the library with a small smirk on his face.
"To the Kitchen, of course. I have a bet to help you lose, don't I?"
Tracey must be a competitive witch, he figured, the sudden hardness on her face and the narrowing of her eyes in response to his statement gave it away — her nervousness, the stuttering and the refusal of meeting his eyes had all gone, there was almost something childlike about her expression.
"You're on!" Tracey said, bolting to the door despite the librarian already rising to say something at her sudden yelling; she didn't pay the older witch any attention though, especially not when she yelled over her shoulder. "Race you! First one there gets to lick the bowl!"
Well, Harry thought as he raced through the halls behind the giggling girl, This was certainly more interesting than wasting a day in the library.
"Please Harry… Please… I'll kiss your cheek or, or I'll rub your shoulders! I'll hug you whenever you want me to… please?"
Harry sighed and hung his head, shaking it when that did little than urge the Slytherin girl on — he'd arrived first, much to her surprise though not to his considering the map he'd had for so long, and no sooner than she saw him waiting for her did she start pouting worse than he'd ever seen a witch do before. If that wasn't enough, once he'd finished making the mixture for his pies, one that had a mixture of; brown sugar, butter, eggs, flour, regular sugar and chocolate chips added into it, she'd gone into a begging frenzy.
Tracey's eyes had watered, her mouth was practically salivating and she was all but clawing at his right arm in hopes of snatching the bowl from his hands… This was all under the supervision of house-elves too.
Thank Merlin Dobby had talked them into letting Harry use the kitchen now and then, otherwise, he couldn't begin to imagine the ruckus they'd be causing in addition to the gir-
"Please! Please! Please!" Tracey's voice had gotten louder like the girl had used a spe- oh Merlin.
Harry turned to face her, careful to keep the bowl behind him, and saw her wand raised to her throat. She'd been just about to speak again, but seeing that he'd turned around, she got to her knees and started bowing to him, prostrating herself before him as if he were a god.
"Fine."
One word, that was all it took for the girl to shoot up from the floor, leave her wand on a stool and shoot towards the counter with such speed that he thought she might be able to outrun magic itself.
"Spoon!" Tracey said pitifully, pointing at the object he'd kept in his hand with her pout reforming as her eyes darted back in the direction of the bowl.
Harry shook his head, gave it to the girl, and then watched her dig into it similarly to how Ron used to eat. Outwardly, he was very happy, almost as much as she was based on the contented sounds escaping her throat as she spooned the mixture rapidly into her mouth.
If she enjoyed the raw mixture with hard chunks of chocolate that much, he couldn't wait to see how she'd respond to the hot pie, melted chocolate and topped with vanilla ice cream… she'd be a very happy loser, or at least she better be!
An hour later, the time passing while enjoying one another's company, the timer he'd set went off signalling the pies were done — during the time they'd waited, he'd learned that neither of her best friends even lived in Britain anymore, her few remaining housemates from their year had isolated her and she lived alone in her home as both parents hadn't made it through the war… if that wasn't bad enough, she had to pay a nanny with the precious remaining funds to keep an eye out on her baby brother.
He wasn't sure why she'd told him everything, nor how she'd done it in such a way that it didn't seem to bother her, but Harry knew right then that he'd spend time with her from there on out.
Especially when she kissed him straight on the lips after devouring a whole pie! It'd been sweet, comedic when she'd giggled, and chocolaty.
Perfect.
October 6th, 1998
Tuesday Evening
He'd thought after proving to Tracey that he knew his way around the kitchen he wouldn't have to do it again, but the girl had been adamant that the bet wasn't fulfilled yet. In her own words, 'anyone can cook something, but not anyone can cook two somethings'... it didn't make any more sense to Harry than it apparently had to Ginny.
Yet, he'd gone through with it.
Harry had agreed to meet the girl somewhere special, a place where the house-elves wouldn't be watching the older teenagers cooking, being awkward or stealing glances at one another; the room of requirement.
Tracey's initial reaction to the place had been one of wonder, but that didn't last long, as she'd instantly lost herself to watching him as soon as he'd put on the apron; there wouldn't be any begging coming from her this time either, they'd made an agreement that she'd get to 'clean' the bowls as well as anything else she wanted so long as it didn't interfere with the final product in return for letting Harry take her to Hogsmeade in the coming month.
He still felt he'd got the better end of the deal, but Tracey had been very adamant that it counted for two Hogsmeade dates instead of one, so he'd agreed with that too.
"Bowl, Tracey?"
Harry said the words while holding the bowl of dessert he'd made towards the girl — her love of getting the bowl rights only extended towards sweet things, he'd learned, as the girl wasn't overly fond of eating some uncooked dinner.
Tracey looked at him with a wide smile, her hair partially covering her right eye and with her free hand, blew him a kiss.
"Thank you Harry! You're perfect!" She cooed, well, attempted to; turns out the semi-seductive effort she'd tried didn't sound all that good when stuffing yourself with a peanut-butter ball mixture.
He didn't mind it though.
Harry had come to learn that Tracey was unlike any girl he'd met before, sort of like how Luna was. Neither of them had very many friends, both had faced hardships in one way or the other, each had personalities that were simply put, unique.
A buzzing alerted Harry that the dinner was ready, and at the same time, it woke Tracey from the happy daze she'd been in while watching him from behind the now-empty bowl.
Today he'd made something he'd seen on a Muggle television show from the Southern United States, it was called 'Gumbo' and secretly, he'd tried making it half a dozen times before he offered to cook it for Tracey — the same goes for the peanut butter balls he'd made as the dessert for it, his time 'learning' from Aunt Petunia taught him the basics only, so he'd needed to put a lot more effort in to hopefully continue his time with Tracey.
"I think I love you," Tracey blurted out from where she now stood, which was directly above the boiling pot of food he'd prepared.
"What?"
October 21st, 1998
Wednesday Evening
It was official, he was now dating Tracey Davis, the fittest witch from Slytherin and moreover, a girl that'd also wormed her way into being his best mate with the absence of Ron — he couldn't begin to imagine what Ron would say when he returned alongside Hermione from finding the latter's parents, but he knew with the boy having matured it'd likely be something comedic.
"What're you making today Harry? Is it what I asked? Did I finally wear you down enough to try it?" Tracey shot off questions as she skipped around the room practically dancing, her eyes never once leaving him as soon as he'd assumed his position in the kitchen.
That wasn't saying all that much though, the girl's eyes rarely left him once they'd started dating. Being her first boyfriend, she said she felt nervous that other girls would try and take him, so she'd been resolute in staying alongside him nearly the entire day, every day.
With other witches, Harry knew it would've been terrible, as they'd likely start arguments or make jabs at the various friends of his that weren't men. Tracey wasn't like that, she knew who Harry considered a friend, and in the rare instances where a girl did approach him for something romantic, Tracey would grab his hand or let out a small sigh… there was that one time she'd whimpered when a girl pulled Harry into a hug without saying anything, but when she said he'd saved her parents, Tracey had stopped.
"Harry! Pretty please with a snog on top?" Tracey was directly in front of him batting her eyelashes and bouncing on the balls of her feet.
He smiled and chuckled before resting his hands above her hips, pulling the girl in for a light kiss on her lips that made her coo into his mouth — her reactions like that always did things to him, but he had another meal to cook for her, one that wasn't part of any bet or machination to let the pair of them get closer.
Harry separated from her, pulling back up and away from the girl even as she raised to the tip of her toes.
"I'm not making dessert for dinner Tracey, not yet at least — I was thinking of making some French Toast and breakfast type stuff though, maybe some Crepes too. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
Tracey narrowed her eyes at him despite his promising to make foods he knew she liked, Daphne had confirmed it when he'd written to her after all, so he didn't know where he'd gone wrong.
Not until she practically climbed him to continue the kissing he'd prematurely separated.
