The Amazing Exploding Spaghetti

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter names, characters and locations belong to J.K. Rowling. All El Chavo del Ocho names, characters and locations belong to Televisa. I own nothing that you recognize.

Written for Shipping Week on Morsmordre
Prompt: exasperate
Pairing: Aberforth/Chilindrina (platonic)

The cookbook she gave him had been sitting on the shelf for months, long enough to collect a thin layer of dust. Aberforth had picked it up and examined the contents when Chilindrinda first gave it to him, flipping through the pages without really seeing any of them. The very thought had soured his mood. Why bother changing anything now? He'd been running the inn and serving his customers for well over a decade. Everything was perfectly fine the way it was.

Then again, he was getting tired of listening to their granddaughter complain about the food. He knew some of the food was actually good, like the goat cheese pizza that Dragon was always asking him to make. But Chilindrinda wouldn't even touch it.

"Maybe it's time to finally use that cookbook she gave you," Dragon suggested, peering over his shoulder at the table of contents. "We could try making something simple, like spaghetti. Creeds loves that. And besides, what could be easier than putting some pasta in a pot of water and boiling it?"

But Dragon had seriously underestimated Aberforth's ability to make a collosal mess with even the simpliest of recipes.

His first mistake was putting too much pasta in the pot. Aberforth had no idea how to properly measure bunches of spaghetti, nor did he care enough to take the time to figure it out. He then surveyed the situation, filled the pot to the brim with water, and proceeded to empty half a bottle of garlic salt into the pot.

"Eh, it's good enough for 'em."

"Aberforth," Dragon said at length, looking up from the cookbook. "Have you ever made spaghetti before?"

"A few times, yes. It's just like making chicken noodle soup, but with more noodles and no chicken." He said this while attempting to stir the pot with a wooden spoon, but there was barely any space to fit the spoon in the pot.

The dranine winced when she heard a series of crunching sounds. Uncooked pasta splintered and went flying onto the floor, where it joined the other food particles that coalesced to form a dusty residue under the stove. Water splashed onto the floor as well, as Aberforth repeatedly rammed the spoon into his concoction, creating enough space to stir the pot.

And then it happened. Nobody knew how, but after about twenty minutes had passed, an explosion rocketed through the kitchen. The pot burst at the seams, forcefully launching the lid through the air, where it became embedded in the ceiling. This is why you don't use a pressure cooker to make spaghetti, ladies and gentlemen.

For a moment Dragon just stared at the lid in the ceiling. Laughter followed a few minutes later. Then, in a very Maisie fashion, she began taking pictures of the blackened wall and lid.

"Really, Dragon?" Aberforth said with a sigh. "Do you have to take pictures of everything?"

"Of course," Dragon yipped cheerfully, her tail wagging with much enthusiasm. "That way I can show our granddaughter how well you're doing with that cookbook she gave you."

They didn't have to wait long for the Chilindrina to appear, almost as though she had been magically summoned. Only this time the little girl was speechless, standing with her gaze transfixed on the lid. She failed to noticed when a drop of salty water fell from the rim of the lid and trickled down her forehead. When Dragon began to laugh at the sight, the only thing their granddaughter could say was, "What happened, what happened?"

"Aberforth tried using your cookbook, dear. The pot exploded all over the walls and the lid got stuck in the ceiling. Lovely, isn't it?"

"I didn't know we'd be turning this into a bloody spectacle in the kitchen," Aberforth grumbled, his arms crossed over his chest.

For several minutes Chilindrina looked on incredulously, not even having words to describe what she was seeing. When her voice came back and she recovered from the shock, she whispered, almost breathlessly, "Uh... what was he... trying to do?"

"I was trying to make spaghetti," Aberforth replied, his mood soured by her reaction. "And then everything went boom and the lid hurled itself at the ceiling."

The little girl frowned. "How does spaghetti explode? Did you put dynamite instead of onions?"

"You're supposed to put onions in spaghetti?" Now Aberforth was thoroughly confused. Goat milk, sure. He used that in everything. But onions? That was a new one.

"My daddy does!" Chilindrina huffed in an exasperated tone. "I saw him cut it too! But for some reason it made him cry."

This was puzzling. The surly goat breeder thought about what she said, and decided to chuck a couple onions in the pot next time.