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bronze_ribbonsFandom: Harry Potter
Rating/Pairings: G / gen
Summary: There aren't always instructions.
Warning: HBP spoilers. Character deaths.
Challenge: Written for le Fic-a-Feast of les![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
dames_magique.
After the end of the War, Harry, Hermione, and Susan fell into the habit of gathering at Remus's flat once a week for a quiet supper. Although none of them had said as much, their small group had formed around a specific qualification: they each hadn't married a certain girlfriend or boyfriend before death had rendered the possibility moot. None of them had felt ready, and none of them harbored regrets for ceremonies or commitments not taken, but nonetheless, they had all become heartily sick of being regarded as not-quite widowers and not-quite widows. Amongst each other, at least, there was respite from both those who imagined them burdened with might-have-beens and those already nudging them to move on.
Thanks to his status as a war hero, Remus was now earning enough income through unofficial but lucrative jobs to rent a comfortable flat. Neither Harry nor Hermione were terribly comfortable around Molly, who continued to regard them as in-laws-who-should-have-been, but Remus knew that her income from catering had become critical -- Arthur's disability pension simply didn't stretch far enough--so he continued to order their meals from her, and for the sake of both of the adults, the teenagers bore with the painfully pitiful small talk that resulted whenever they arrived a shade too early -- early enough to find Molly either unpacking the meal or finishing a glass of wine pressed upon her by Remus.
One evening, they gathered at the flat with a fair amount of apprehension, Remus having warned them that Molly was sending Luna in her place due to an emergency at Fleur and Bill's. However, they discovered their former schoolmate's squash casserole and roasted chicken to be not only edible but flavorful; Remus poured five glasses of a dry white wine, one with just the right amount of bite to balance out the food.
"This is really good," Hermione said to Luna. "Would you be willing to share your recipe for the squash?"
"There wasn't one," said Luna. "I just used what I found here."
Hermione paused. "So you just made it up?"
"None of it was moldy or melted or smelled excessively strange," Luna said matter-of-factly. "Except for the Stilton, and it's supposed to be."
"There's Stilton in this?" Susan helped herself to more. "I thought it had a nice hit of blue."
Harry looked at Hermione. He could tell that the casserole somehow didn't taste as good to her as it had a minute ago. Luna, on the other hand, was nodding in response to Susan's compliment and saying, "It's very important to balance the colors in a meal. I wish I had thought to bring some kale or chard, for more green."
A corner of Remus's mouth twitched. "No, I fear it's a typical bachelor's icebox -- eggs, rashers, and fossilized takeout."
"There were two lemon slices, too," Luna said. "I used their juice in the casserole."
"Oh well," said Harry, grinning at Susan. "Whisky instead of tequila for you."
Susan shrugged, and pointed to her almost-clean plate. "Worth it," she declared. To Luna, she said, "Want to come live with me after you're done with school? I could pay you with the fortune I'd save in takeout..."
Luna looked up from the slab of bread onto which she was piling some shreds of chicken. "I don't think so," she said seriously. "It would cost you more to get each meal cooked by itself, especially since only restaurants have access to ground-up suwer-eel."
"Suwer-eel?" echoed Harry.
"When you mix the bits with oil, they swell up and taste like morsels of chicken or beef. It's really very economical," Luna observed, "but surveys have shown that excessive suwer-eel consumption can lead to rashes and breathing problems."
"And here the rest of the world thought it was MSG," muttered Hermione under her breath.
Remus looked as though he might be having problems breathing, and quickly excused himself, vanishing to the balcony. Harry put down his napkin and said, "I'll go make sure he's okay."
As he suspected he would, he found Remus standing just out of view of the dining area, noiselessly and helplessly laughing his head off. When the older man calmed down, Harry said, "Do you suppose that's why Pulteney's has red and black and yellow sauces on their tables? To ensure the balance of the colors?"
"Oh, bless her," said Lupin, shoulders shaking as he succumbed to another brief, silent fit of hysteria. "And blessed be Hermione, too, even if she'll never survive hosting a dinner party." He swiped a sleeve across his eyes and hauled in a deep, deliberate breath. "She just isn't one for improvising, is she?"
"Not when she doesn't have to," said Harry. "And given how she feels about house-elf rights, I think I will get her some cookbooks for Christmas." He thought back to their very first year of school, Ron yelling "Are you a witch or not!" He remembered how tense she had been about the notes in Snape's Potions book, the ones that had outperformed the printed instructions.
But he also recalled how she had saved him so many times with her fanaticism for details, and her skepticism, and how she had taken the trouble to figure out Snape's game -- and Remus's, and Dumbledore's -- long before the rest of the Order had come to understand how much dissembling all three men had undertaken for all their sakes. And here was Remus, the lone survivor of the trio, the lone survivor of his father's --
"We should go inside," Remus said. "Rejoin the realm of the living."
Harry nodded, and slid the door open. Luna's voice floated through the half-lit living room. "Yes, I'll be taking them to the man who's tending the Vadergilled fish."
Harry steeled himself for Hermione's rant on the subject -- he'd already heard about how none of the fish had ever been glimpsed by reliable witnesses. As he and Remus reentered the dining room, however, the only sound was the crinkle of wax paper as Luna wrapped sandwich after sandwich. Harry stole a glance at Hermione: her lips were tightly pressed together -- she was holding back, and it was costing her -- but there was something softer in her expression as well. Something that almost suggested admiration or tenderness -- but then the moment was gone, and he found himself helping the others clear away the dishes.
"What do you do now?" asked Luna, closing her hamper. "I would imagine charades is out," she added, and Remus nearly dropped his wineglass.
"We read to each other," Susan said. She glanced quickly at the others before continuing. "Would you like a turn?"
Luna accepted the volume and gently turned its pages as the others settled into their spots. After a few more moments, she began to read:
~ fin ~
Notes:
The closing passage is from Rainer Maria Rilke's "For Monique" (trs. A Poulin, Jr.).
The recipe -- well, Luna didn't use one, but I made a point of taking notes when I set out to create a squash-and-blue-cheese casserole. The Beautiful Young Man helped himself to seconds, so I do believe it turned out okay. Bon appetit!
Rating/Pairings: G / gen
Summary: There aren't always instructions.
Warning: HBP spoilers. Character deaths.
Challenge: Written for le Fic-a-Feast of les
dames_magique.After the end of the War, Harry, Hermione, and Susan fell into the habit of gathering at Remus's flat once a week for a quiet supper. Although none of them had said as much, their small group had formed around a specific qualification: they each hadn't married a certain girlfriend or boyfriend before death had rendered the possibility moot. None of them had felt ready, and none of them harbored regrets for ceremonies or commitments not taken, but nonetheless, they had all become heartily sick of being regarded as not-quite widowers and not-quite widows. Amongst each other, at least, there was respite from both those who imagined them burdened with might-have-beens and those already nudging them to move on.
Thanks to his status as a war hero, Remus was now earning enough income through unofficial but lucrative jobs to rent a comfortable flat. Neither Harry nor Hermione were terribly comfortable around Molly, who continued to regard them as in-laws-who-should-have-been, but Remus knew that her income from catering had become critical -- Arthur's disability pension simply didn't stretch far enough--so he continued to order their meals from her, and for the sake of both of the adults, the teenagers bore with the painfully pitiful small talk that resulted whenever they arrived a shade too early -- early enough to find Molly either unpacking the meal or finishing a glass of wine pressed upon her by Remus.
One evening, they gathered at the flat with a fair amount of apprehension, Remus having warned them that Molly was sending Luna in her place due to an emergency at Fleur and Bill's. However, they discovered their former schoolmate's squash casserole and roasted chicken to be not only edible but flavorful; Remus poured five glasses of a dry white wine, one with just the right amount of bite to balance out the food.
"This is really good," Hermione said to Luna. "Would you be willing to share your recipe for the squash?"
"There wasn't one," said Luna. "I just used what I found here."
Hermione paused. "So you just made it up?"
"None of it was moldy or melted or smelled excessively strange," Luna said matter-of-factly. "Except for the Stilton, and it's supposed to be."
"There's Stilton in this?" Susan helped herself to more. "I thought it had a nice hit of blue."
Harry looked at Hermione. He could tell that the casserole somehow didn't taste as good to her as it had a minute ago. Luna, on the other hand, was nodding in response to Susan's compliment and saying, "It's very important to balance the colors in a meal. I wish I had thought to bring some kale or chard, for more green."
A corner of Remus's mouth twitched. "No, I fear it's a typical bachelor's icebox -- eggs, rashers, and fossilized takeout."
"There were two lemon slices, too," Luna said. "I used their juice in the casserole."
"Oh well," said Harry, grinning at Susan. "Whisky instead of tequila for you."
Susan shrugged, and pointed to her almost-clean plate. "Worth it," she declared. To Luna, she said, "Want to come live with me after you're done with school? I could pay you with the fortune I'd save in takeout..."
Luna looked up from the slab of bread onto which she was piling some shreds of chicken. "I don't think so," she said seriously. "It would cost you more to get each meal cooked by itself, especially since only restaurants have access to ground-up suwer-eel."
"Suwer-eel?" echoed Harry.
"When you mix the bits with oil, they swell up and taste like morsels of chicken or beef. It's really very economical," Luna observed, "but surveys have shown that excessive suwer-eel consumption can lead to rashes and breathing problems."
"And here the rest of the world thought it was MSG," muttered Hermione under her breath.
Remus looked as though he might be having problems breathing, and quickly excused himself, vanishing to the balcony. Harry put down his napkin and said, "I'll go make sure he's okay."
As he suspected he would, he found Remus standing just out of view of the dining area, noiselessly and helplessly laughing his head off. When the older man calmed down, Harry said, "Do you suppose that's why Pulteney's has red and black and yellow sauces on their tables? To ensure the balance of the colors?"
"Oh, bless her," said Lupin, shoulders shaking as he succumbed to another brief, silent fit of hysteria. "And blessed be Hermione, too, even if she'll never survive hosting a dinner party." He swiped a sleeve across his eyes and hauled in a deep, deliberate breath. "She just isn't one for improvising, is she?"
"Not when she doesn't have to," said Harry. "And given how she feels about house-elf rights, I think I will get her some cookbooks for Christmas." He thought back to their very first year of school, Ron yelling "Are you a witch or not!" He remembered how tense she had been about the notes in Snape's Potions book, the ones that had outperformed the printed instructions.
But he also recalled how she had saved him so many times with her fanaticism for details, and her skepticism, and how she had taken the trouble to figure out Snape's game -- and Remus's, and Dumbledore's -- long before the rest of the Order had come to understand how much dissembling all three men had undertaken for all their sakes. And here was Remus, the lone survivor of the trio, the lone survivor of his father's --
"We should go inside," Remus said. "Rejoin the realm of the living."
Harry nodded, and slid the door open. Luna's voice floated through the half-lit living room. "Yes, I'll be taking them to the man who's tending the Vadergilled fish."
Harry steeled himself for Hermione's rant on the subject -- he'd already heard about how none of the fish had ever been glimpsed by reliable witnesses. As he and Remus reentered the dining room, however, the only sound was the crinkle of wax paper as Luna wrapped sandwich after sandwich. Harry stole a glance at Hermione: her lips were tightly pressed together -- she was holding back, and it was costing her -- but there was something softer in her expression as well. Something that almost suggested admiration or tenderness -- but then the moment was gone, and he found himself helping the others clear away the dishes.
"What do you do now?" asked Luna, closing her hamper. "I would imagine charades is out," she added, and Remus nearly dropped his wineglass.
"We read to each other," Susan said. She glanced quickly at the others before continuing. "Would you like a turn?"
Luna accepted the volume and gently turned its pages as the others settled into their spots. After a few more moments, she began to read:
While drinking from this cup perhaps inscribed with signs of blessing and of happiness in an unknown tongue, I hold it in this hand full of its own lines I can never explain. Do these two scripts agree? And since they are alone and secluded inside the dome of my glance, will they speak to one another in their own way and be reconciled, these two ancient texts a drinker's gesture brings together?. . .
Notes:
The closing passage is from Rainer Maria Rilke's "For Monique" (trs. A Poulin, Jr.).
The recipe -- well, Luna didn't use one, but I made a point of taking notes when I set out to create a squash-and-blue-cheese casserole. The Beautiful Young Man helped himself to seconds, so I do believe it turned out okay. Bon appetit!
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
17/9/05 10:06 (UTC)you should post the bacon-less version, too.
(no subject)
17/9/05 13:01 (UTC)The bacon-less version would be to start out by greasing the pan with one or two tablespoons' worth of butter or olive oil -- just enough so that the batter doesn't stick. And I'd probably then mix all of the ingredients in a separate bowl rather than in the pan itself, since incorporating the bacon would no longer be an issue.
(no subject)
19/9/05 00:16 (UTC)I shall take a note of the recipe too, for future reference...
(no subject)
20/9/05 04:34 (UTC)(no subject)
20/9/05 23:18 (UTC)I love Luna's approach to cooking, and your characterizations, and oh, if only I loved squash! :D
(no subject)
21/9/05 00:56 (UTC)Oh, well. Plenty of other vegetables. :-)
Oh, and my partner in
crimethe Wimseydom-Potterverse epic-in-progress (http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=placet) has hinted she might cook up something for y'all; she gave me a lovely bit of eggplant (http://www.livejournal.com/community/placet/1838.html) the other evening. :-)(no subject)
26/9/05 15:00 (UTC)(no subject)
22/9/05 11:13 (UTC)The recipe sounds rather yummy as I will only eat squash if it is cleverly disguised. ;)
(no subject)
24/9/05 09:01 (UTC)Hm... *peers at bunny that just hopped in*
-()-
"Sibyll, what the--"
"Shhh. I am Looking..."
"Sibyll, it's just --"
"Shhh. I am Discerning..."
"Sibyll, are you going to--"
"Shhh. I must Contemplate the Hidden..."
"Sibyll, for Merlin's sake, just eat your slice of zucchini bread already!"
-()-
(no subject)
24/9/05 14:25 (UTC)Oh, my lord, for the first time ever, I see myself in Trelawney. :))
(no subject)
22/9/05 16:20 (UTC)Jen
(no subject)
24/9/05 09:04 (UTC)