I met Tom Felton this weekend and he is, without doubt, the most adorable dork I ever met, I love him. Ha!
This time, no refrigerator needed, just make sure you're into some good laughing. Cooking Test Part One!
Please thank also my dear Magzillasaurus for her editing. It was needed.
Chapter Nine
He didn't buy her one set.
He bought her whole basket. Including a bathing suit she asked a saleswoman to pick up outside his attention. Hermione hid it at the bottom of her load, handing her burden to the nearest check out before he would peruse and find the item. Due to her nerves, she didn't pay enough attention, and when the woman called out how much it all cost, a black credit card was handed over before Hermione could take hers out.
"I told you, I pay for my own things."
"Too late, love." He signed off on the little window, winking at the saleswoman, who was having a tough time trying to remain professional. Her perfectly manicured hand shook when she handed over the plastic card and the receipt. He checked it line per line, staring straight into her eyes when he came across the mentioned beachwear. "I haven't seen you chose this one."
"Possibly."
The finger tried to open the bag, "Show it to me." but he retreated the digit lightning fast, after a stinging hex. "Auch. Witch."
"My other middle name, pleased to meet you." Cheeky grin, which turned into suspicion, "Since when do you have a black credit card?"
"Courtesy of Gringott's bank and an urgent request." He closed in, "I'm an outstanding client, as you know. When I say jump, they ask how high."
"Prat."
"Also my unknown middle name, likewise."
"Draco Prat Malfoy. Could be worse."
"Darling, you must learn the name of your future husband by heart, Draco Lucius Prat Ferret Malfoy."
"You forgot the Git."
"That's for between the sheets, sweetheart."
-oOo-
*Cooking Test: the Wizards tournament*
Molly Weasley stood straight, dressed in her flowery apron, hands on her waist. "Welcome lads. Today you'll create for your lady a perfect three-course meal. A husband should be able to provide for his witch in every aspect, not only enjoy the pleasure she bestows upon you inside the bedroom."
The mood was set.
"Mum, why do we need to cook?" Mother and son exchanged a glare, the wizard flinched.
"Your son is right, we have elves for that." From the stands a very loud huff floated their way, Draco recognised even without turning, from whom it came. He could be wrong, but Blaise's question was probably more of a rubbing than a real inquiry, knowing the Italian's love for cooking.
"Mr. Zabini, as part of the board who created this test, you should know the wizard must help his witch if she needs him. Imagine: your wife is bedridden because of an illness, and your elf is unavailable for some reason. Are you going to let your wife starve because you refuse to cook? Moreover, shouldn't you at least try to prepare a decent meal, for the woman you love?"
Against so many valid points, there was only so much a wizard could argue. "You've made your point, Mrs. Weasley."
"I'm happy to clear away the doubts. Now, today's meal is the same for every one of you: leek soup, roast with carrots and mashed potatoes, and sticky toffee pudding."
From the stands, a female "hmmm" filled the space, mouth watering at the prospect…
"Brother, you gotta help me…" Draco felt the panic rise. He had baked cookies as a kid with his elf, the process very similar to potion making, and he enjoyed the chore. But even he doubted if this meal was doable in his case.
Molly's voice surged, "Don't worry, lads, I'm not going to push you into this and let you drown on the spot. You'll all receive a parchment with instructions, all you have to do is follow the steps… not that a recipe is going to save your arses. Even a witch can mess up things, despite the guide."
Only a few wizards chuckled, the rest getting more scared by the minute.
"Please welcome my assistants." An army of elves, all dressed in aprons and cooking hats, entered the room with military precision. "They'll guide you but not cook for you. Plus, they'll make sure you're not cheating in any way, you're not allowed to use magic. Don't forget: you're doing this to please your witch, lads. Now, search for a workbench and let's get started."
The area had been transfigured into rows of benches, all including a stove with an oven, working space and a sink. Sharp looking knives inside a wooden block, plus some extra handy cooking utensils were the only items on the tables. A considerable stand faced them on the opposite side so the witches could watch the wizards at work. Not one seat was empty.
"Are you waiting for me to take you by the hand maybe? Move!"
The masses got in motion, Blaise and Draco choosing to stay close, more out of necessity for the blond. Theo closed their ranks, with Harry and Ron in front of them, the first row.
"Hey, Potter. Have you done this before?"
"Yep, at the Dursleys. The pudding is a sticky matter, and I advise you to start with it so you can let the sauce give the whole dessert the finishing touch. It becomes extra sticky."
"Can you help us?" Blaise was not afraid of the roast nor the soup, but desserts weren't his forte.
Harry scratched his hair, "I already have Ron on my plate, boys…" The Slytherins nodded in understanding. "Listen, I'll see what I can do."
Shopping basket in hand and the list on the other, the boys headed as a group to the vast display wall on the corner, with all the ingredients and some extras on its shelves. Draco picked what he recognised easily, following Harry's advice and focussing only on his dessert. His hand stretched to take a pack of brown sugar, but Harry shoved him another, "This is the demerara you need. The one over there won't do the trick."
"Thanks, Potter."
"You owe me a butterbeer after this, Malfoy."
"I'd guess more than one by the time we are finished."
-oOo-
Ginny and Hermione were rubbing their hands, grinning wide. "Look at Ron! He's panicking, mum chose his favourite dessert, but he's never stretched one finger to make it."
"Why does he demand a witch that can cook, if he doesn't do it himself?" Pansy paid extra attention to the ginger rat, remembering his words.
"He loves to eat, Pansy. If you want to make him fall in love with you, cook for him, fill his stomach. He'll be putty in your hands." Hermione's focus however, was on the blond, whom's forehead creased in concentration. He was following the recipe to the tiniest detail, measuring cups and weighing pounds precisely. She leaned farther forward in her seat, elbows on knees, not wanting to miss one bit.
His demeanour reminded her of their joint classes with Snape; she saw him often this way, measuring the ingredients accurately for his cauldron. He would bite on his lip, just the way she did. With well-defined movements, he chopped the dates into small pieces as if they were the herbs, added the boiling water, and so on.
From time to time, he would look up, check things over with Blaise or even with Harry, and return to his batter, adding flour here, beating eggs there, pouring the mix into tins to shove it, as last, inside the oven he previously had heated up to the exact temperature. He kept asking Harry if he did it right until the Gryffindor came to look at it personally.
The result at the end of his dessert: a boy covered in white dust, a stripe of trickle on his cheek and beaming with pride for his accomplishment.
"Hey, Potter, how do we time 20 minutes without our wands?"
A finger pointed at a timer in the shape of a chicken. "The muggle way, Malfoy. First, we turn the chicken's upper body till the end, and then we point the arrow at precisely 20 minutes. When it's time, you'll hear it, believe me." Draco didn't trust it, but he had no other choice.
Draco turned to Theo, "Theo, now what first? The roast or the soup?"
Blaise slammed the door of his oven shut with a bang, "The roast, it goes into the oven after these puddings. The soup is the last thing you'll cook." He patted the blond on his back, "We go shopping again, grab your list."
More confident than the first time, Draco placed his meat, vegetables and potatoes into his basket. He frowned when Blaise picked some extra herbs not included in the list. "What are those?"
"Basil and oregano."
"Is your list different than mine?" Draco reread his page, his forehead creased and his lips pursed, dropping an eye on Blaise's.
"Mate, I'm giving it an Italian touch. These have to be added with care, too much and your recipe is pffew."
"Oh." Draco shrugged and returned to his hunt, "Show-off pasta lover." He followed Blaise's every move with scrutiny, huffing and judging the new choices of his friend. When the man grabbed a bottle of wine, he couldn't hold himself any longer. "Wine too?"
Annoyed with the nagging, Blaise picked a bush of the same herbs, and dropped them in Draco's pile, "The wine we can share, there's no need to waste the god's drink. The rest, here, take it, I'll guide you when it's time. Now shut up, or I'll mute you."
The blond sniffed at the herbs and nodded in approval. Returning to his table, he copied Blaise's every move, while the other man set everything ready according to a specific order. "Bullocks, I forgot something. Stay here, mate." Moments later, he dropped a small nugget in Draco's hand. "This is for your mashed potatoes, don't lose it." The blond sniffed once more but retreated, disgusted. "Yes, smart arse, it's quite intense isn't it? You'll thank me later. A puree without nutmeg is like pudding without sugar."
Draco washed his hands thoroughly and prepared to attack his piece of roast beef. "Do I have to wash this?"
"Are you demented?" The tanned wizard ripped the meat out of the blonds' hands, and set it with a plop on the cutting board.
Even Theo shook his head, "Why do you want to wash the roast?"
"Rinse away the blood?" Theo gestured as if Draco was crazy. The blond huffed. Lifting his hands in the air, he turned his attention to the recipe and grabbed the garlic cloves. He read peel the skin and crush the garlic. Watching Theo's actions closely, he peeled and smashed it just like the other wizard. He salted the meat, added pepper and rubbed the garlic over the whole piece, wrinkling his nose at the smell on his hands.
Harry shoved him a metal soap bar. "This will neutralise the stench. Rinse under water."
"How many do I owe you by now?"
"Lost count. Buy me a dinner at the Leaky, we're even then."
"Wow, wait a minute, our brother here will buy us all dinner. We're saving his arse for his girl, if you know what I mean…"
"Shut it."
"You haven't shared with the class. Does Granger look good without robes?" Draco squeezed his eyes shut, a silent warning. "Greengrass bought a little nothing in red, so sheer that I forgive her for her bad choice of colour."
"You were checking out Daphne?"
"I was close by, no big deal."
"Be a real Slytherin, bro. You're lying shit." The chunks of butter surrounded the roast in the porcelain oven dish. Gently he laid the beef neatly in the centre, the evenly cut carrots around the meat as Molly's recipe dictated.
Blaise came over to his bench. He picked a handful of basil, "Chop these very thin, rinse some stems from the oregano and disperse them over your roast and carrots." His instructions were carefully followed but also supervised by a house elf.
"Can I put it in the oven now?"
"Wait until your puddings are baked, the temperature has to be adjusted."
Both wizards jumped in the air, startled by the sharp ringing. Harry grinned, "Malfoy, I believe your twenty minutes are finished."
"No shit?" He opened the door of the oven, waving off the steam. Hands were ready to pick up the tin when Theo pulled him back.
"Are you insane? This shit is hot as hell, you'll burn your fingers." Theo shoved oven mitts in Draco's hands. "Use this."
Hermione chuckled, glad the blond had good friends to help him out. So far, what he did made her hungry, pleasantly surprised to see Draco follow the Italian seasoning from Blaise. He waved his oven mitt covered hands at her, she wiggled her fingers in return. Carefully the dessert was taken out of its mould, the sticky sauce covered it, and the blond set it aside, just as Harry advised, to let it soak in the sugary layer.
Unfortunately, between his task and teasing Hermione, he touched with his bare finger on a freshly removed tin. "Fuck, shit, Salazar's sagging left nut, Merlin's tits."
Molly eyed him, "Need some more help coming up some extra curses, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Sorry, Mrs. Weasley. I burned my finger."
"Cool it off under cold water, apply this balm and wrap the finger before you continue to cook."
"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."
"Ask Granger if she can kiss it better, perhaps?"
"You're the proof that the Wizards have a sense of humour, Zab's."
"Moron."
"Love you too, mate."
-oOo-
Draco focussed on his penultimate task, the mashed potatoes.
The starting point of a puree was peeling potatoes. Veggies with a filthy coat of dirt. Gross.
Harry emerged his, peel included, in a pan with boiling water, "Hey, Potter, don't you have to peel those?"
"I'm just using a muggle trick."
"Tell me, and you get an Ogden's bottle of firewhiskey."
"Mr. Malfoys yous are cheating with briberys?" The elf from before looked accusingly at the blond.
"No, I'm only asking for advice." He shook his head, after the creature disappeared, satisfied with his answer. "Potter, please?"
"Someone's desperate."
"This is a gross job. All the dirt under my nails…"
Harry winked, "Make a light cut like this," his knife demonstrating a light incision in the peel of the potato along with the width, "Boil the potato for a minute or two, count until hundred twenty." Evil grin met fake smile. "You'll be able to reap the peel off, without a fuss. Ogden's, wasn't it? Nice doing business with you."
"Holy fuck! Potter!"
"What? Is Voldemort back?"
"You didn't tell me this water was scalding hot!" Draco blew on his fingers, dancing from one foot to the other.
"Duh?"
In the end, Draco was glad he followed Harry's advice, the skin coming off, hassle-free. Following the recipe from there, he cooked, smashed, added the milk, the pepper, butter and the egg yolk. The end result was a smooth puree.
"Have you sampled it?
Blaise made a valid point, and the blond used the tip of the knife to have a taste. "Hmm, more salt."
Blaise took the grinder and demonstrated with the nutmeg. "The secret of an excellent mashed potato lies in the balanced seasoning with this little nut. Add it with care. You have to taste it, but too much and it becomes inedible."
Hermione shook with laughter, Draco ground, stirred, tasted, and ground some more. His expressions while sampling were adorable to watch; for the first time, she saw not the hard face, nor the sexy one but the youthful appearance. He caught her looking, for the umpteenth time, flashed her his signature grin and rubbed in his belly, signalling it was divine.
She gestured back that she had no idea. A new moment passed between them, despite the distance.
Two hours later, the chime announced it was time for the witches to taste every plate, for the last part they had been told to leave the premises; this way they couldn't guess who's plate it was, using recognition of the presentation.
The room was filled with delicious aromas, and the women moved from plate to dish, tasting and deciding which one was of their choice.
Hermione picked easily out four of them. Harry's was easily recognisable, as he used a familiar seasoning of his Sunday's roast. The dessert perfectly carried out, by someone who did it not for the first time, and the soup, well the man knew his way around the kitchen, as she knew it.
Ron's looked as if the second battle started on his plates, the pudding was presentable, but the soup missed the most essential of flavouring, and his roast, well, she knew it was a roast.
Blaise's had a refined presentation, of someone who found pleasure in serving a plate worthy of a five-star restaurant. She tasted the mix of wine and Italian herbs mix, divinely in the tongue. Hermione would never turn down dinner at Zabini's, after testing his cooking.
Picking out Draco's wasn't easy, but the give away was the stems of oregano she saw him use and now lied on the thin slices as decoration. Personally, she would have added more salt and garlic to the meat, though she didn't blame him for it; this was his first cooking session. His soup was okay, Blaise's way better, as she had picked out the thyme. Clearly one ingredient he didn't tell Draco.
His sticky pudding was sublime. The sauce was perfect of texture and just sugary enough, baking was chemistry, after all, it came solely down to measure with accuracy.
The wizards shuffled nervously, wondering if it tasted ok. In the end, all the girls left the room with the bowls of dessert. In unison, a male sigh was released. Not one witch looked as if they had indigestion. Absolutely not a bad sign.
Draco followed Hermione with his eyes, she licked the spoon, tongue flat over the bulbous side.
"Is it good?"
"It's perfect, for a first timer. This wizard knows his way around a cauldron and potions. This is chemistry made with food, you know."
"May I taste?"
"Wait a second." She dipped her finger in the sticky mass and held it to his mouth.
Opening his lips, he waited for her next move. The finger entered and rested against his tongue. Closing his mouth, he sucked it clean, biting gently in her digit. She pulled it slowly away.
His tongue snaked over his lips, gathering the leftovers. "I'm curious if my witch can seduce me with her culinary talent."
"The way to a man's heart is through his stomach, I believe?"
"I'm not a Weasley."
"You're a man, nonetheless." She dipped her finger on the sauce once more and rubbed it over his lips. "Oh, I see you missed a spot." On the tip of her toes, she inched closer to his face and licked it off with her tongue; finishing with a loud peck on his lips. "All clean now. See you soon?" And wiggled away from him, devouring the rest before Ron would steal her bowl. Draco's dessert was hers exclusively.