For Hogwarts Assignment #9
Home Economics and Domestic Magic: Write about one of the following witches preparing a meal with magic for a romantic interest. (Helga Hufflepuff)
Helga looks absolutely glorious as she moves through the kitchen, waving her wand and casting spell after spell that brings the cozy room to life. Her blue eyes brighten with joy as the knives cut the vegetable into perfect cubes and the herbs rub over the chicken.
Rowena, with all her cleverness and skill, has never quite mastered these charms. She's never even entertained the thought of domestic life, and these spells have always seemed so useless. Watching Helga perform them now, though, makes it looking fascinating.
With another flick of her wand, Helga sends the vegetables and chickens to the shallow pot that hangs over the open flames. Within moments, the air smells of garlic, thyme, and sage, and Rowena's stomach growls.
"You are quite good at that," Rowena says.
Helga doesn't look up. Her messy blonde hair falls in her face as she uses a mixing spell to prepare dough for bread. "Is this your way of admitting that domestic magic is necessary?" she teases.
Rowena rolls her eyes, a small scowl tugging at her thin lips. "I never said it wasn't necessary." She moves closer, watching in amazement as her lover casts another spell to make the dough rise faster. "I only said that I do not excel at it."
Helga chuckles. After studying the dough for a moment longer, she glances up at Rowena. Helga's freckled face is streaked with flour, and beads of sweat form a crown across her forehead. Rowena wonders how it's possible for her to still look so beautiful like this. After all, those who delight in physical pursuits over intellectual ones often look so rough and ragged. Helga, however, still looks like a goddess.
"If you tried, I'm sure you would be brilliant," she says, leaning in and capturing Rowena's lips in a quick, chaste kiss.
When Rowena pulls away, her head spins. She doesn't know if the dizziness is from the heat of the flames or the sweet, familiar feel of Helga's lips against her own. Tugging nervously at her dark braid, she steps back and clears her throat, gesturing around the kitchen. "Well?" she asks. "Is there some special occasion I've missed? No. This is much too small to be a celebratory feast."
"Observant as always." A soft laugh bubbles from the blonde's throat. "This is a meal for two."
"Us," Rowena assumes.
"Us," Helga confirms.
Rowena considers for a moment. It isn't her birthday or Helga's. Their anniversary is months away. She wonders if there is some great milestone she has somehow managed to miss, but she cannot think of anything.
"Why are you preparing such a fine meal for us?" Rowena wonders as her lover transfers the dough to the oven. "Has something happened?"
The other woman offers her an amused smile. "Because I love you, Rowena. Is that enough of a reason to prepare a meal for us to share?"
Rowena feels her heart flutter wildly. She places a hand on her chest as though the gentle pressure can somehow tame the excited organ within. "I suppose it is," she answers.
"Perfect. Do you mind going into the village to fetch a bottle of wine for us, then?"
Rowena raises her brows, a small smirk on her lips. "It sounds like quite an intimate dinner," she says.
A dusty pink stains Helga's cheeks. She quickly turns her attention back to the kitchen, busying herself with a flurry of spells to keep everything running smoothly. "Well, I certainly planned for it to be." Her voice is soft and tight, almost as though the mere mention of desire is awkward for her to voice.
Rowena smiles to herself and turns away, hurrying off to retrieve her cloak.
Dinner has never been anything particularly exciting. It's just a meal shared with her dearest friends, a mundane event that holds no significance. Now, however, there's a spring in her step as she hurries down the castle corridors. She's never been so thrilled about a meal in her entire life.