D/G Feast Story: Of Ovens and Marmalade; or Draco! The Non-cook!
Title: Of Ovens and Marmalade; or Draco! The Non-cook!
Author: Emily Ricotta
Rating: PG
Recipe: Marmalade-Glazed Chicken
Summary: It is a cold day in hell. A very cold day. Some might even dare to say it has frozen over.
Of Ovens and Marmalade; or Draco! The Non-cook!
It is a cold day in hell. A very cold day. Some might even dare to say it has frozen over.
And do you know why that is?
Draco Malfoy is cooking. Yes, cooking. Something I have never seen him do. Heck, I didn't think he even KNEW how to cook! But there he is, standing in my kitchen, in mother's old pink apron, bowl in front of him and that whisk held like a wand ready to strike. I am, of course, hidden in the shadows made by the pantry door. I wouldn't want to miss this for the world.
~*~
Draco was standing alone in the kitchen of the Burrow, attempting to make a romantic dinner for Ginny. He had dug through Mrs. Weasley's dusty cookbooks and found a recipe that sounded good, yet manly. Very, very manly. There was no way he was baking a cake or something foofy like that. Although he did like Ginny's cakes... Especially the chocolate ones....
But that wasn't the point. The point was that he was trying to make dinner for Ginevra Weasley. And after his romantic dinner he was going to propose and it was all going to be wonderful damn it!! The recipe he had pulled out was one that had to do with chicken and a whole lot of orange marmalade. Seemed simple enough. It read:
Marmalade Glazed Chicken
Ingrediants:
3 pounds chicken legs and wings
1/2 cup Kikkoman Soy Sauce
1/3 cup orange marmalade
2 teaspoons prepared mustard
1 clove garlic, pressed
Instructions:
Place chicken, skin side up, in single layer in shallow baking pan.
Combine remaining ingredients; brush on chicken.
Bake at 350F. 1 hour, or until tender, brushing with sauce every 15 minutes.
He started mixing all of the ingredients together, and while spooning the marmalade into the oversized blue bowl he'd found, he lost his grip on the jar, and the entire content of the container oozed into his messy concoction. Glaring at it for a minute he shrugged and moved on with the recipe. Well, that'll just add a bit more of an orangey flavor... right? Of course! Continuing on with the mixing, he got everything together and went to lather it on the chicken... which still happened to be in the freezer. Cursing and pulling his wand out of one of the pockets on the apron, he made a motion with his wand in the direction of the enormous refrigerator. The door flipped open, and the chicken pieces rumbaed their way over and into his pan. He defrosted them with another flick, and proceeded in the slathering of his marmalade mess. Perhaps a bit too enthusiastic to be cooking on his own, and getting a bit carried away, he splashed marmalade all over his face and hair. When all of this was done and the chicken was liberally covered and soaking in their saucy bath, he stuck them in the oven and turned the knob all the way on. Humming softly to himself, he started setting up the table.
Crystal candle holders that he'd borrowed from his own table (his mother wouldn't miss them for one night) adorned the table, along with a wonderful looking red table cloth. There were crystal dishes, pure silver utensils (hello, Malfoy), and a beautiful arrangement of flowers set in the middle, although they were cut small enough so as to not block the diner's view of each other. The whole setup looked horribly out of place in the Weasley kitchen. Gorgeous, but out of place.
"This won't do." Draco scowled to himself. "Figures that there wouldn't be an ounce of romantic atmosphere to be found in this house." And with that he whispered an incantation under his breath and the entire kitchen changed into an elegant room, perfect for a romantic meal with the person you loved. Draco gave a smirk as he surveyed his work. It had been about 45 minutes since he put the dinner in (he had of course remembered to baste every 15 minutes, like the directions said), and it would be done in a quarter of an hour, the room looked perfect, and all he had to do was turn on the charm and solidify his statements of love for Ginny with the ring he had conveniently stashed inside his robe.
That was when he smelled the smoke. Turning around, he realized he'd lost sight of the kitchen turned dining room. Rubbing his eyes, he tried to see again, only to fail. This was bad. Nothing was allowed to go wrong tonight. Of all days for the oven to malfunction!
"Oh no! Draco! What happened?!" Ginny yelled, bursting from her hiding spot. Flicking her wand, she cleared the room of smoke, and seeing that the oven was set nearly to broil, she ran over and turned it off. Opening the door, she removed what looked like two black pieces of coal. Setting them on the counter, she looked at Draco with a laughing look on her face. "Well?" She enquired of the wizard standing in front of her.
"Dinner is ruined! Why the hell don't you have any bloody house elves woman? How am I supposed to propose to you over the romantic dinner I made if there isn't a romantic dinner to lay out?!" Draco snapped, supremely annoyed that things weren't working out according to plan.
Ginny giggled at the irritated expression on Draco's face, until his words sunk in. "Propose?" Ginny gasped, bringing her hands up to cover her flaming cheeks. She looked up at Draco out of her deep, brandy-colored eyes, trying to see into his mind through his steel-gray ones. He was going to propose to her? Tonight?
Draco almost had the grace to look sheepish. Almost. "Yes Weasley, propose." He got down on one knee, still in his pink apron, still covered in marmalade, and looked up to his girlfriend with the Malfoy smirk firmly back in place. "I don't suppose you'll still have me, even if I AM wearing a pink apron and can't cook? Marry me Ginevra Weasley."
"Oh Draco, of course I'll still have you, bad cook that you are!" She laughed, the faintest hint of tears in her eyes. "I can't believe you attempted to cook dinner for me though! I never thought you had it in you. And that pink really offsets your hair nicely, it brings out that rosy color in your cheeks too. You should wear that color more often!" She said with mock seriousness, nodding her head as he stood to emphasize her words. At Draco's glare she burst out laughing and threw herself into his arms. "I love you Draco Malfoy, with everything I've got."
"And I love you my Weaslette. Now, don't you think you should help me clean off? I am covered in this marmalade because of you."
"You're intolerable," She screeched, smacking the arm that was wound around her. Stretching herself up she licked a smudge of marmalade off of his cheek and said with a grin, "but that's why you're so fun."
Picking her up, Draco marched to the bedroom, and brushing her lips with a kiss, laid her down on the bed. Reaching over to the bedside light, he clicked it off, but not before the comment of "Draco, promise me you'll let me do the cooking from now on?"
"You can be sure of it."
~*~
So after all, I didn't get to see Draco cook. Well, I did, I just didn't get to taste the final results. Perhaps that's not true either, because there was a lot of tasting done afterwards, to clean up, but we that's a story for another time. All in all though, the night wasn't a total waste, as Draco likes to think it was, because I am now wearing his ring. I couldn't be happier. He could be, saying that life would be a hundred times easier if we just got a "bloody house elf." I don't think we should have one because, neglecting the fact that 'Mione would go nutter, I wouldn't be able to lick marmalade off of my favorite non-cook, Draco, and where would the fun be in that? He argued with me that of course I could still lick marmalade off of him. In fact I could lick whatever I wanted off of him whenever I wanted. And even though I will be taking him up on that offer (there are SO many things to try, and I always have Draco's chocolate fetish to exploit), the point I was trying to make is that we don't need a house elf. No really Draco, we don't need a house elf. Just because you're a spoiled baby doesn't mean that SOME people can't do a little manual labor. YES! I'm saying you're lazy and can't do anything yourself. No! Draco! Drop that spatula!! You'll burn the chicken and make a mess of the marmalade again! What do you mean "That's the point?"
~Fin~
Author: Emily Ricotta
Rating: PG
Recipe: Marmalade-Glazed Chicken
Summary: It is a cold day in hell. A very cold day. Some might even dare to say it has frozen over.
Of Ovens and Marmalade; or Draco! The Non-cook!
It is a cold day in hell. A very cold day. Some might even dare to say it has frozen over.
And do you know why that is?
Draco Malfoy is cooking. Yes, cooking. Something I have never seen him do. Heck, I didn't think he even KNEW how to cook! But there he is, standing in my kitchen, in mother's old pink apron, bowl in front of him and that whisk held like a wand ready to strike. I am, of course, hidden in the shadows made by the pantry door. I wouldn't want to miss this for the world.
~*~
Draco was standing alone in the kitchen of the Burrow, attempting to make a romantic dinner for Ginny. He had dug through Mrs. Weasley's dusty cookbooks and found a recipe that sounded good, yet manly. Very, very manly. There was no way he was baking a cake or something foofy like that. Although he did like Ginny's cakes... Especially the chocolate ones....
But that wasn't the point. The point was that he was trying to make dinner for Ginevra Weasley. And after his romantic dinner he was going to propose and it was all going to be wonderful damn it!! The recipe he had pulled out was one that had to do with chicken and a whole lot of orange marmalade. Seemed simple enough. It read:
Marmalade Glazed Chicken
Ingrediants:
3 pounds chicken legs and wings
1/2 cup Kikkoman Soy Sauce
1/3 cup orange marmalade
2 teaspoons prepared mustard
1 clove garlic, pressed
Instructions:
Place chicken, skin side up, in single layer in shallow baking pan.
Combine remaining ingredients; brush on chicken.
Bake at 350F. 1 hour, or until tender, brushing with sauce every 15 minutes.
He started mixing all of the ingredients together, and while spooning the marmalade into the oversized blue bowl he'd found, he lost his grip on the jar, and the entire content of the container oozed into his messy concoction. Glaring at it for a minute he shrugged and moved on with the recipe. Well, that'll just add a bit more of an orangey flavor... right? Of course! Continuing on with the mixing, he got everything together and went to lather it on the chicken... which still happened to be in the freezer. Cursing and pulling his wand out of one of the pockets on the apron, he made a motion with his wand in the direction of the enormous refrigerator. The door flipped open, and the chicken pieces rumbaed their way over and into his pan. He defrosted them with another flick, and proceeded in the slathering of his marmalade mess. Perhaps a bit too enthusiastic to be cooking on his own, and getting a bit carried away, he splashed marmalade all over his face and hair. When all of this was done and the chicken was liberally covered and soaking in their saucy bath, he stuck them in the oven and turned the knob all the way on. Humming softly to himself, he started setting up the table.
Crystal candle holders that he'd borrowed from his own table (his mother wouldn't miss them for one night) adorned the table, along with a wonderful looking red table cloth. There were crystal dishes, pure silver utensils (hello, Malfoy), and a beautiful arrangement of flowers set in the middle, although they were cut small enough so as to not block the diner's view of each other. The whole setup looked horribly out of place in the Weasley kitchen. Gorgeous, but out of place.
"This won't do." Draco scowled to himself. "Figures that there wouldn't be an ounce of romantic atmosphere to be found in this house." And with that he whispered an incantation under his breath and the entire kitchen changed into an elegant room, perfect for a romantic meal with the person you loved. Draco gave a smirk as he surveyed his work. It had been about 45 minutes since he put the dinner in (he had of course remembered to baste every 15 minutes, like the directions said), and it would be done in a quarter of an hour, the room looked perfect, and all he had to do was turn on the charm and solidify his statements of love for Ginny with the ring he had conveniently stashed inside his robe.
That was when he smelled the smoke. Turning around, he realized he'd lost sight of the kitchen turned dining room. Rubbing his eyes, he tried to see again, only to fail. This was bad. Nothing was allowed to go wrong tonight. Of all days for the oven to malfunction!
"Oh no! Draco! What happened?!" Ginny yelled, bursting from her hiding spot. Flicking her wand, she cleared the room of smoke, and seeing that the oven was set nearly to broil, she ran over and turned it off. Opening the door, she removed what looked like two black pieces of coal. Setting them on the counter, she looked at Draco with a laughing look on her face. "Well?" She enquired of the wizard standing in front of her.
"Dinner is ruined! Why the hell don't you have any bloody house elves woman? How am I supposed to propose to you over the romantic dinner I made if there isn't a romantic dinner to lay out?!" Draco snapped, supremely annoyed that things weren't working out according to plan.
Ginny giggled at the irritated expression on Draco's face, until his words sunk in. "Propose?" Ginny gasped, bringing her hands up to cover her flaming cheeks. She looked up at Draco out of her deep, brandy-colored eyes, trying to see into his mind through his steel-gray ones. He was going to propose to her? Tonight?
Draco almost had the grace to look sheepish. Almost. "Yes Weasley, propose." He got down on one knee, still in his pink apron, still covered in marmalade, and looked up to his girlfriend with the Malfoy smirk firmly back in place. "I don't suppose you'll still have me, even if I AM wearing a pink apron and can't cook? Marry me Ginevra Weasley."
"Oh Draco, of course I'll still have you, bad cook that you are!" She laughed, the faintest hint of tears in her eyes. "I can't believe you attempted to cook dinner for me though! I never thought you had it in you. And that pink really offsets your hair nicely, it brings out that rosy color in your cheeks too. You should wear that color more often!" She said with mock seriousness, nodding her head as he stood to emphasize her words. At Draco's glare she burst out laughing and threw herself into his arms. "I love you Draco Malfoy, with everything I've got."
"And I love you my Weaslette. Now, don't you think you should help me clean off? I am covered in this marmalade because of you."
"You're intolerable," She screeched, smacking the arm that was wound around her. Stretching herself up she licked a smudge of marmalade off of his cheek and said with a grin, "but that's why you're so fun."
Picking her up, Draco marched to the bedroom, and brushing her lips with a kiss, laid her down on the bed. Reaching over to the bedside light, he clicked it off, but not before the comment of "Draco, promise me you'll let me do the cooking from now on?"
"You can be sure of it."
~*~
So after all, I didn't get to see Draco cook. Well, I did, I just didn't get to taste the final results. Perhaps that's not true either, because there was a lot of tasting done afterwards, to clean up, but we that's a story for another time. All in all though, the night wasn't a total waste, as Draco likes to think it was, because I am now wearing his ring. I couldn't be happier. He could be, saying that life would be a hundred times easier if we just got a "bloody house elf." I don't think we should have one because, neglecting the fact that 'Mione would go nutter, I wouldn't be able to lick marmalade off of my favorite non-cook, Draco, and where would the fun be in that? He argued with me that of course I could still lick marmalade off of him. In fact I could lick whatever I wanted off of him whenever I wanted. And even though I will be taking him up on that offer (there are SO many things to try, and I always have Draco's chocolate fetish to exploit), the point I was trying to make is that we don't need a house elf. No really Draco, we don't need a house elf. Just because you're a spoiled baby doesn't mean that SOME people can't do a little manual labor. YES! I'm saying you're lazy and can't do anything yourself. No! Draco! Drop that spatula!! You'll burn the chicken and make a mess of the marmalade again! What do you mean "That's the point?"
~Fin~