Cooking Lessons: Chapter 1

Synopsis: The first and foremost lesson of cooking: food and lust never mix. Ever. Well, Draco Malfoy…perhaps, he could be the exception. Oh, does it help that he happened to be her student? Mm, tastes like trouble.

- This chapter will be a prologue of sorts, so it shall be somewhat boring.
- I am quite aware of characters deaths in the HP books, but I've obviously kept them alive for the sake of my story.
- This is rated M for a reason; as in sexual scenes (I'm a huge flaming perv, obv), cursing, occasional violence. Don't flame me for that.

-:-

"Cooking classes!?"

The loud exclamation erupted from the deep bowels of the Slytherin's common room, the person who had spoken throwing his class schedule aimlessly over his shoulder.

The tall, ungainly male collapsed onto a near-by chair, vengefully raking a hand through his short-cropped mane of muddy brown hair. The seventeen-year-old Gregory Goyle sighed then lolled his head back, his dark almost unfathomable black eyes staring plaintively at the heavens above him.

"Why, in Merlin's name, did Hogwarts start instructing cooking classes?!"

"To prepare us for real life, stupid." A voice answered, slightly muffled by a large treacle tart being shoved down the owner's mouth. After a few more chews, eighteen-year-old Vincent Crabbe eagerly snatched another pastry of sorts from his slacks pocket, beginning to consume that sweet soon after.

"Stupid? If anyone is stupid around here, it's you." The brown-haired warlock argued hotly, obviously wounded by his companion's words.

"Just what are you trying to say?" The eighteen-year-old demanded suspiciously, spewing a mouthful of crumbs in the process.

"That you're stupider than I am." Goyle confirmed in a matter-of-fact tone, large arms crossing over his chest. Vincent rose from his seating on one of the leather sofas, pudgy fingers curling into round fists.

"Oh really?"

"Will the two of you shut your mouths already! You're both equally stupid!"

The two bickering males wrenched up instantly at the scowling command, turning their attentions to the fireplace.

An extremely tall male stood just before the flaming ingle, his back turned to the two squabbling warlocks. The individual suddenly spun his heel, the tail of his black cloak billowing behind him airily.

This one was almost jarringly pale, skin a ghostly white shade with a head of soft silver-blonde tresses. The perfectly straight strands spilled plainly over his brown and into his disturbingly icy blue eyes, which were currently narrowed with ire at the moment.

"You command direction so beautifully, Draco." Came an airy sigh, causing the nineteen-year-old Draco Malfoy to wince slightly.

A tiny slip of a girl came sauntering out of the shadows, a handful of books gathered in her grasp. Her hair was short ad black, cut just at the tops of her shoulders with dull, almost lifeless black eyes.

Pansy Parkinson opened her mouth to say something when the class bell echoed the air, signaling the beginning of classes for the day. Draco silently thanked Merlin as he made fast strides for the exit, Crabbe and Goyle flanking either side of him.

-:-

It was the eighth and final class for the day. Under all circumstances, Draco Malfoy would've been elated, ecstatic…jubilant even. But currently, he was the farthest thing from it.

Instead of taking useful courses like Arithmancy, Flying or even the dreadfully boring History of Magic; sixty precious minutes of his life were going to be spent cooking.

Yes, cooking.

The nineteen-year-old powerhouse scowled darkly in his seat, situated next to Crabbe who extracted another one of his hourly snacks from his pocket. He'd be lucky to pass the course what with the bottomless hole next to him.

"Who do you think the teacher is?" Pansy inquired excitedly from behind the older male, leaning in slightly for a better hear.

Draco sneered to himself, contemplating briefly which hex he could use on the dark-haired female. Girls took to the Malfoy heir like bees to honey, unable and unwilling to pull away from the sinfully attractive, disgustingly wealthy male.

But Pansy Parkinson was the most persistent – and most irritating – of the bunch.

As the nineteen-year-old finally turned back to answer the still awaiting witch, the door came swinging open. And he couldn't remember for the life of him what in Earth, heaven and hell he was going to say.

A relatively tall woman entered the room, making wide strides to her desk and plopping her black satchel onto the table. She was dressed in a pleasantly snug, sleeveless black turtleneck that tucked neatly into a tantalizingly tight high-waisted skirt of dark, forest green suede. The hem ended just short of her knees and a pair of shiny, black stilettos encased her feet.

Her head of thick, chesnut curls were pulled up into a high ponytail; the tips grazing the curve of her back. But what were most catching were her eyes; these shimmering emerald green pools that glinted a confidence incomparable to any other.

She looked about eighteen or so, too young (and too damned hot) to possibly be their instructor.

"Hello, my name is Makoto Kino, your new culinary arts teacher." The virid-eyed vixen announced as she shuffled through the contents of her bag.

"You may address me as Professor Kino."

As she finished setting up her desk with the proper utensils, she clasped her hands before her lap, glancing up at the horde of students before her. She smiled nervously.

"I suppose if anyone has any questions, you may raise your hand. But please, when you ask, just announce your name and house, so I could get to know you all better."

Draco sneered as Hogwarts' resident bookworm promptly raised her hand, practically lunging from her seat with excitement. The auburn-haired professor smiled and gestured towards the girl, who quickly rose to her feet.

"My name is Hermione Granger, Gryffindor." The seventeen-year-old declared proudly, her warm brown eyes shifting to cast an angry glare at a few snickering students at her left. She lingered before turning her attentions back to the instructor, absently shoving her thick mass of honey-brown hair behind her ears.

"And you were a beater for Beauxbaton's Quidditch team, weren't you? From what I recall, you took a nasty blow first year and never came back to the game."

The Culinary Professor visibly winced at the inquisition, her cheeks warming at the scandalous whispers that echoed her students. She cleared her throat for a moment, finding it strangely hard to breathe, before answering.

"Well Ms. Granger, you are a well-informed one I see." Makoto started slowly, struggling for the right words as she continued. She constantly rubbed the palms of her hands against her skirt, trying to rid the clammy moisture that had formed in nervous habit.

"She is right, you see. I, uhm, I am eighteen – like most of you – and was a student of Beauxbaton's. In fact, I had graduated just last June. When my Culinary instructor heard wind of Hogwart's new Culinary Arts course, she petitioned me for the job. And, well, here I am!"

The Beauxbaton alumnae tittered anxiously after the declamation but soon stopped as no one shared in her gaiety. There was an initial rift of pure, unbearable silence that followed; something the eighteen-year-old loathed unrelentingly. She cleared her throat for what seemed to be the umpteenth time in the past fifteen-minutes before continuing.

"Well, now that we have that resolved; how about we continue with the class." She announced uncertainly, trying her best to ignore the questioning and almost disbelieving glances she was receiving.

The tall brunette pivoted slightly and snatched a large tote from under the table, depositing its contents out onto her desk. A mound of entangled, multi-colored clothes and fabrics tumbled out, one or two spilling off the table.

"These are your aprons." She announced happily, snatching the fallen articles off the floor. She slipped the halter-like garment over her head, absently tying the ribbons about her waist to keep it in place.

"Each of you will receive one and must wear it every class lesson. The one you receive today will be yours for the rest of the year, so please don't lose it or something." She explained plainly enough, arranging the smocks into four neatly stacked piles.

The eighteen-year-old remained silent afterwards, glancing at the door almost longingly. She pursed her lips then turned her stare back onto her students, a smile cracking her unnerved mask.

"Well, I think we've had enough for today. Class is dismissed early. As you leave, grab an apron on your way out."

Needless to say, the class erupted in exclamations of joy and gratitude, hastily scrambling to their feet. They nearly sprinted to the door, grabbing the pinafore along the way.

Makoto grinned knowingly, recalling how desperately she had wanted to flee her eighth period classes. She was about to make her own departure when she realized one of her new students had lingered.

"May I help you?" She inquired off-handedly over her shoulder, struggling to undo the binds of her own apron. The brunette nearly jumped with surprise when she felt another pair of hands glide over her own, untangling the ribbons.

"My name is Draco Malfoy." He informed in an almost…sensual tone, his arm extended expectantly for a salutatory shake. The Culinary Professor felt herself rendered motionless as she caught sight of the student.

A devastatingly attractive one, at that.

She blinked, almost snapped from her musings, before forcing her hand into his and shaking it twice. She was completely thrown out of sorts (again) as the devilish rogue suddenly bent and placed a chaste kiss on her knuckles, his liquid-blue eyes never leaving hers.

The nineteen-year-old Slytherin smirked against her hand, reveling in her painfully perturbed responses. He quickly straightened, clutching his own pinafore in his grasp as he murmured his good-bye.

He spun his heel and left the room, leaving Hogwarts's new Culinary Arts professor in bewildered unease. He whistled a happy tune along the ways to his sleeping chambers, good and in high spirits.

It seemed cooking lessons were going to be delectably fun.

-:-

Those wondering, I had previously posted this and sorta kinda…accidently deleted it. X.x So, please old readers (all two --) come back!

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