Love Bites (Harry Potter: Official Dragon Tamer, Part One)

Seeing is Believing

Saturday Afternoon
21 November 2009
Harry's POV

I admit I've never been to a fancy dinner party.

Never really been to an un-fancy dinner party, either, unless the extremely laid-back affairs at Ron and Hermione's counted.

Sure, I'd seen Aunt Petunia bustling around the kitchen before I got banished to my room on a few occasions.

But this was my first time participating in one.

And, well, hosting one, I suppose, although Draco was doing all the work, and I'd been... well... banished to "my" sofa in the reception to watch telly and drink a glass of wine.

Also, according to Draco, this was not a fancy dinner party.

I almost shuddered to think what would have constituted a fancy dinner party in the Malfoy household.

"Are you sure I can't help with something?" I called again.

Draco appeared in the kitchen doorway.

"Well," he drawled, sipping his own glass of wine, and I sat up eagerly, glad to be of use, or soon to be, anyway.

"I'm making chicken fricassée and serving it with celeriac gratin with a simple goat cheese and beet salad to start..." he paused and swirled his glass, smirking over at me.

"What did you want to help with?"

I didn't even know what chicken fricassée was.

"I could help chop the veg for the salad and the... whatever that word is you keep saying after chicken that we're eating."

I frowned.

"You aren't making something fancy, are you?" I asked, even though Draco had assured me a dozen times that he was keeping it simple.

On second thought, I probably should have asked him what his idea of simple was earlier.

"Chicken fricassée is, probably, amongst the most simple and hearty of all French dishes," he assured me. "I just have no idea what it's called in English.

"It's..." he paused and frowned in thought. "It's chicken, or, you know, whatever meat you want, that's sautéed and then braised in..."

He paused, catching sight of my face, and rolled his eyes again, taking another sip of wine.

"Let's just call it a stew that's sautéed in a saucepan instead of boiled in a pot?"

"Okay," I agreed, thinking that it did sound particularly comforting for winter. "So I could help you chop the veg, then."

"Oh, no, Potter," he argued with a chuckle, holding up his hands in protest. "I've seen the way you chop ingredients for potions. You're not coming anywhere near the veg in my kitchen."

"But..." I began, knowing I was pouting and acting petulant.

Draco floated his wineglass to set gently on the table as he crossed the reception, one arm reaching out to wrap solidly around my waist, the other reaching up so he could cup my face in his palm.

"You really want to help, hmm?" he asked, leaning down to gently brush his lips against my own.

"Mm-hmm," I nodded, biting my lip and not quite meeting his gaze.

I don't know why it was so bloody important to help out, but it was.

"Merlin, you'd think it was your first dinner party or something," Draco chuckled, pulling me in for another kiss.