And the fun continues!

It was all in the name of competition.

Only incredible amounts of serious incentive could have persuaded Severus Snape, reigning terror and bastard bat of Slythrein to willingly remain in the present situation.

The present situation being, as fate would have it, on the front lawn of the Burrow. Dumbledore had promised a year's supply of Ogden's finest fire whiskey to whoever could…well, manage to concoct the most delicious snack for the Order that afternoon. What a weirdly compulsive old man, thought Snape, though he didn't argue.

Snape looked into the depths of his cauldron. The substance before him bubbled enticingly, and he stirred it gently with the tip of his wand. He inhaled. Thick, rich and creamy, with the perfect amount of coca and cream, it smelled absolutely heavenly. Sirius, who was vigorously chopping something at a picnic table a few feet away, even put up his nose for a sniff.

Snape smirked. Somehow or another, the competition had become a cook-off between himself and Sirius. And that meant, of course, that he, Snape, had this one in the bag.

Although he generally confined himself to slimy solutions and bitter brews, this particular situation demanded utmost attention to taste. His masterful understanding of proportion proved most useful as he combined the smooth, thick chocolate with milk, cream, a dash of cinnamon, a pinch of nutmeg, a spot of vanilla, several dollops of rich French vanilla ice cream. With a lazy flick of his wand, a small stream of pureed ice wound delicately into the solution. The smell of the rich, bubbling chocolate wafted decadently into the air.

He left the solution to oscillate gently as he sauntered over to where Sirius was cursing and chopping up a rather dead-looking stalk of celery. With delicate fingers, Snape pinched up a jaggedly hacked piece.

"Slaughtering Bowtruckles, Black?" he asked imperiously.

"Shut up," said Sirius darkly, wiping a small bead of sweat from his brow.

"What exactly is it you're making?"

"None of your business, git. Well, if you must know, celery pieces and peanut butter," said Sirius sullenly.

"How positively gourmet."

Sirius was about to chuck his paring knife at Snape when a deep voice interrupted them both.

"My word! What smells so wonderful?"

Professor Dumbledore had appeared, and was peering interestedly into Snape's cauldron.

"Ah, Headmaster. You are just in time to sample my concoction."
"Has it got a name?"

"Not yet…" Snape ladled a creamy dollop into a glass and garnished it with a few elegant slivers of almond. Dumbledore took a deep swig, and his eyes twinkled with delight.

"How positively delectable, Severus!" he said, as Snape didn't bother masking a highly superior look. "And Sirius! What have we here?"

"Avant garde peanut butter and celery sil vous plait," said Sirius grandly, adding all the French words he knew. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

All of a sudden, there was a small stampede of people.

"Something smells amazing!"

"What's going on here?"
"I want some!"

Harry, Ron and the twins had appeared on the lawn.

"Can we have some?"

Snape began ladling out his drink, and passed them around. The boys accepted them slightly suspiciously, though took tentative sips since Dumbledore was there. Harry's eyes widened with shock, though Ron was the first to voice is astonishment.

"Blimey, sir, this is great!"

Snape uncharacteristically refrained from making smug comments.

"It appears as though we have a winner!" announced Dumbledore, as he handed Snape a certificate. "Free Firewhiskey all year for you, Severus! Well done!"

"But wait!" cried Sirius desperately. "What about mine?"
Harry, Ron and the twins each sampled a piece of celery clumsily coated in peanut butter. Despite his undying allegience to Sirius, Harry couldn't help choking on his.

"Sorry, Sirius, mate," said Ron as he gagged, "We're going to have to give this one to the Professor."

Sirius looked murderous.

"As you can see, Black," said Snape, who could no longer restrain himself, "MY milkshake brings all the boys to the yard. And…" he added nastily, "As they say, it's better than yours."

"Severus," said Dumbledore reprovingly.

"Sorry, Headmaster," replied Snape dourly, though he pulled a face at Black when Dumbledore's back was turned.

"DAMN!" yelled Sirius.

FIN

Please review, my lovelies! I'm also open to suggestions for modern catchphrases to torture Snape with...