Author's note: Enjoy!

Disclaimer: The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition.

Hogwarts: Assignment #10, Muggle Cultures Task #2: Write about someone preparing a traditional meal.

Warnings: Allusions to a difficult relationship with food (post-Azkaban Sirius)

Through the Stomach, To The Heart

As if the note that Kingsley had left under Sirius' pillow wasn't intriguing enough, the smells coming out of Grimmauld Place's kitchen certainly were. Sirius had even tried turning into a dog to better deconstruct the smells, but this was nothing he had ever known. So there he stood, in front of the kitchen door, with Kingsley's note in his hand: "I'll be home tonight but I'm going straight into the kitchen. Don't come in until 6:00 PM. Yours, K."

At 5:59 PM, Sirius balled his hand into a fist. At 6:00 PM, he knocked and let himself in. He was hit with a wave of heat from the oven and a burst of smells—coconut, fresh bread, chicken, cooked onion, sizzling oil, turmeric, cumin, coriander, garlic, chilies, coriander…

"Merlin," Sirius said. And then he smiled at the sight of Kingsley in his casual after-work clothes, a fisherman's cable sweater and jeans—but more importantly because he was wearing the floral apron that tended to go to Molly.

"Now there's a look for you," Sirius grinned.

Kingsley grinned at him. He was standing by the stove, mixing a steaming pot with one hand and using the other to push what appeared to be flatbread down into a skillet. The table behind him had been set for two, with candles waiting to be lit between the placemats.

"What's all this?" Sirius asked.

"My sister just came back from visiting my grandmother and she brought back baobab candy," Kingsley said. "I was going to give you some but then I thought, why not make you a whole feast?"

Sirius approached the stove inquisitively. One of Kingsley's arms looped around his waist as he pointed and identified the ingredients.

"Chapati," he said, pointing to the circles of flat bread he was making. "Okra, plantain, spinach… And this is kuku paka. Think of it as a coconut curry, of sorts. My grandmother always said it's a special occasion dish."

"What's the special occasion today?" Sirius asked.

"You are," Kingsley said. He kissed his nose. "Though you're distracting me now, and I have to finish up."

"I did wait until 6:00 to come in," Sirius said, stepping back and grabbing a seat at the table.

"I doubted you would," Kingsley said, throwing the cooked chapati on a plate with the others.

"I can listen when I want to," Sirius said. "That just rarely happens."

Kingsley chuckled. "Sit down and drink your wine."

"As you wish," Sirius said. He leaned back, admiring the view as he watched the other man finish up the cooking.

What followed was the most delicious meal of Sirius' life. His relationship with food coming out of Azkaban had been strange—sometimes everything turned to paste and glue in his mouth, sometimes he couldn't stop, and sometimes every mouthful felt so full and flavourful and overwhelming that he wasn't sure if he could eat more.

But Kingsley's food was delicious, pure and simple. So delicious that Sirius enjoyed the silence as they both ate, watched how Kingsley folded his chapati to scoop up the heavenly goodness that was kuku paka, mixed and matched the things on his plate into different mouthfuls… he was pleased that the taste lingered in his mouth when they stopped eating to chat—and even more pleased to find that his meal seemed to get more delicious every time he got back to it.

They had seconds. And thirds. Of everything.

"So what does kuku paka mean?" Sirius asked as he used a piece of chapati to soak up the coconut sauce remaining on his plate. He intended to leave it spotless and wondered whether it would be flattering or offensive for him to turn into a dog and lick it clean right there, right then.

"Painted chicken," Kingsley said. "It's because of the way you cook it—the grilling, marinating… Kuku means chicken."

"In Swahili, right?" Sirius asked.

"In Swahili," Kingsley nodded. "It's a very onomatopoeic language. My sister's favourite is worm, which is minyoo."

Sirius grinned. "I like learning this stuff."

"Swahili?" Kingsley asked.

"Anything about you," Sirius said. "It just… it just feels right, if I'm going to be around for a while."

"Will you be?" Kingsley asked.

Sirius smiled. "How would I thank you for this meal?"

"Asante," Kingsley said. "Or asante sana, if it was very delicious."

"Asante sana," Sirius repeated. He'd been rubbish at remembering runes and when Remus had learned Latin, Sirius had tried to keep up but had fallen off the bandwagon nearly immediately. But this—this was a living, breathing, spoken language. Spoken by a living, breathing person he quite liked actually.

"And how do you say I love you in Swahili?" Sirius asked.

Kingsley smiled. "I whisper it to you sometimes, when I wake up before you for work. Nakupenda."

"Nakupenda," Sirius repeated.

"Nakupenda," Kingsley nodded. "Will you love me more if I say I have dessert?"

"It's a tough act to top, but I think I would, yes," he grinned.

Stacked with: MC4A; Shipping Wars; Hogwarts; Winter Bingo

Individual Challenge(s): Hola, Bonjour, Jambo; Black Ribbon; Black Ribbon Redux; Feast; Food Roulette; Gryffindor MC; Bow Before the Blacks; Seeds; Ways to the Heart; Golden Times; Old Shoes; Trope it Up C (Ennemies to Friends to Lovers);

Word Count: 831

Shipping Wars

Ship (Team): Kingsley Shacklebolt/Sirius Black (Feast)

List (Prompt): Winter Micro 2 (Food Porn)

Winter Bingo

Space (prompt): 1E (Feast)