Kitchen Witch

Syn

NC-17

I do not own these characters.

Summary: Ginny decides to cook a meal for Harry, with a yummy result.

Notes: Written for lucyk_br.  Kinda goofy, kinda sexy.  Hope you likey!

 

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"Mum, honestly," Ginny said, completely exasperated and out of patience, "I think I can make a complete dinner by myself!  I'm not feeble!"

 

Molly Weasley, who was hovering at Ginny's shoulder, huffed out a disbelieving breath. "I don't think you're feeble dear, but I think you're setting your sights a little high.  You've never made a meal by yourself!  And you hate to cook!"

 

"So?" Ginny said, glancing at her mother over her shoulder. "I also hate to make my bed and you let me do that on my own every day!  Just because I hate it doesn't mean I can't do it!  I don't mean to be disrespectful, but I'm going to have to banish you from the kitchen!"

 

Her mother's face went bright red and her mouth fell open. "Banish me from my own kitchen?"

 

"Yes!  I want to make this meal for Harry all by myself!  And I can't do that with you hovering over my shoulder playing mother hen, Mum!" Ginny said, setting down the measuring cup and turning on her mother, who backed up a step. "I do appreciate the help, but I really, really want to do this myself."

 

Molly heaved a great sigh and looked at her spotless kitchen in a morose way. "Alright, I'll go do the mending while you cook your little meal."

 

Ginny clasped her hands in thank you to her prayers. "Yes!  Thank you!"

 

"And if you need anything--"

 

"I'll figure it out on my own!" Ginny said shrilly, grasping her mother's shoulder and marching her toward the door. "I hereby banish you from the kitchen!  Don't even peek your head in!"

 

"I can't even peek?" Molly exclaimed.  Ginny gave her a warning look and Molly tutted in a disapproving way. "Set my kitchen on fire and I'll Transfigure you into a sponge and use you to clean up the mess."

 

Ginny winced; her mother was entirely serious. She saluted her smartly. "Got it!  And remember--BANISHED!"

 

Molly nodded grudgingly.  Ginny turned around to walk back in through the kitchen door.  Her mother's voice, anxious, cut the air again, making her cringe. "I could make my special raspberry dessert--"

 

"MUM!"

 

A half an hour later saw Ginny slaving over the hot stove, flour all over her aproned front and smeared on her cheeks.  She'd managed to follow the recipe for her mother's favorite biscuits with ease and now the dough was rising in a bowl near the hot stove.  That done, she settled on making the dessert, which she'd decided to be simple about.  A nice chocolate pudding couldn't hurt anyone.

 

She poured milk into a bowl and added the other ingredients, then popped the hand-mixer into the mixture.  She glanced at the clock and saw that she was getting behind, so she flicked her wand at the mixer.  Obviously, she put too much power behind the flick, because the beaters started whirring at an alarming rate, splattering the walls, the cupboards and Ginny herself with drippy chocolate. 

 

She shrieked, her face covered in chocolate, and waved her wand at the mixer.  It flipped out of the bowl, hit the wall with a clatter and landed on the floor. 

 

"What's going on in there, Ginny?" her mother called from the other room over the wireless, which she had turned on a few minutes before.  The sound of Celestina Warbeck singing shrilly rang through the house.  Ginny winced and cast a sheepish look toward the closed door of the kitchen.

 

"Er...nothing," she said in an almost-convincing voice. "Stay in there!"

 

"I know!" her mother snapped grouchily.  Ginny wiped the chocolate off of her face and picked up the mixer.  She cleaned it off and then stuck it back in the pudding mixture, redoing her earlier spell.  This time it worked like it was supposed to and the beaters slowly mixed up the pudding. She put it in the icebox to chill when it was finished.

 

Ginny then started snapping beans.  She realized after several beans that she wasn't going to get anywhere doing it by hand, so she waved her wand at them and they started snapping themselves.  Satisfied, she got out the chicken she intended to fry and stared at the naked little carcass thoughtfully.  She really wasn't looking forward to chopping it up, or even touching it.  She hated touching raw meat. 

 

Alas, there was no getting around it.  She picked up the bird by its bent little wings and danced it across the counter.

 

"Please don't eat me, Ginny!  I've already been beheaded and humiliated!  Spare my naked corpse!  SPARE ME!" she said in a high voice as she made the carcass dance.

 

"Sorry, chicken," she said in her normal voice, shaking her head. "But it's the gullet for you.  Besides, you're already dead and I happen to know that you're delicious."

 

She grabbed the cleaver, grasped the chicken by one fat leg and swung the blade down.  THWACK!  One leg down, another to go.  

 

"I'll never dance again!  Woe is me!" she said in her high, chicken voice as she waved the chicken leg.  She laughed to herself and grasped the other leg. 

 

Just as she was swinging the cleaver down, she heard a voice behind her say, "Talking to the food?"

 

Ginny jumped and whirled.  The cleaver slipped out of her greasy hand, sailed through the air and buried itself in the back door of the Burrow.  It quivered next to Harry's head and he turned startled eyes on it.  Ginny put her hands over her open mouth. 

 

"Oh my God!" she said, her heart pounding. "I'm so sorry!  You frightened me!"

 

"YOU!" Harry said, gesturing to the cleaver beside his head. "I think my life just flashed before my eyes.  Merlin...I sleep a lot!"

 

"Are you okay?" Ginny said, lowering her hand and approaching him.  He reached up and wrenched the cleaver from the wooden door. "I'm really sorry!"

 

"I'm fine," Harry said, letting a grin slide across his face.  He looked around the kitchen, noting the chocolate on the walls and cupboards and the flour dusting everything.  Then he looked Ginny up and down.  She was keenly aware of the fact that she was covered in flour, chocolate and chicken grease.  "What do we have here?"

 

Ginny wiped her hands on her apron and shrugged her shoulders. "Thought I'd make dinner for you."

 

Harry looked genuinely pleased. "Did you?  You didn't have to do that.  You hate to cook."

 

"Yes, but I thought it would be nice.  Besides, domestic might look good on me.  Who knows?"

 

Harry's smile turned teasing as he approached her, "Everything looks good on you, Ginny."

 

She opened her mouth to reply, but her mother's voice rang through the air over the music from the wireless set. "Ginny?  Is that Harry's voice I hear?  Maybe I should nip in there and see him?"

 

"NO, MUM!" Ginny bellowed and then turned to Harry. "I've banished her from the kitchen."

 

Harry nodded in understanding. "I'd better go say hello then, before she goes spare.  Be careful with this," he said as he handed her the cleaver.  Ginny went pink and took it from him gingerly.

 

"I swear, I'll only attack the chicken with it from now on."

 

Harry grinned and bent down, landing a sweet kiss on her upturned mouth.  He pulled back and licked his lips. "Mmm...chocolate!"

 

Ginny swatted at him as he chuckled and headed for the door.  She sighed, glancing up at the clock.  She'd forgotten to ask him why he'd been early.  She frowned.  She'd wanted to surprise him with a full dinner on the table, but he'd pretty much ruined that.  Oh well.  Nothing for it.

 

She washed the cleaver again and hacked off the other leg, then the rest of the chicken.  She then popped the pieces in flour, coating them lightly and put them in a pan to fry.  She washed her hands and was just getting out the potatoes when she heard Harry knock on the kitchen door.

 

"I'm coming back in!" Harry declared from the door, making her go pink once again.

 

"Come in!  I've put the cleaver down!" she said, glancing behind her and watching as he edged through the door.  Her stomach swooped the way it always did whenever she looked at Harry.  He eyed the kitchen counter with interest, his gaze lingering on the frying chicken and then sweeping over Ginny, who was now wrestling with the potatoes.

 

"Er...what's with the beans?" Harry said as he came up behind her.  Ginny squeaked and turned back to the pile of green beans she'd set to snapping on their own.  She'd forgot about them completely. 

 

"Oh dammit," she moaned, eyeing the snapped beans in a mournful way. The beans had kept on snapping themselves until they were all but shredded. "I forgot to stop them."

 

Harry's hands landed on her chocolate and flour splattered shoulders.  He sighed dramatically. "You killed them."

 

Ginny turned her dirty face to meet Harry's. "I'm rubbish at this, Harry.  I really wanted to make you a nice dinner, but..."

 

"You're not rubbish," Harry said, pushing her hair back from her face. "You've got the chicken frying, looks like you've made some dough for biscuits...you're doing just fine, love.  Maybe you just need some help?"

 

"I told Mum I didn't need her help," Ginny started to protest, but Harry smiled widely.

 

"Not your mum, me," he said, kissing her temple.

 

Ginny turned around to face him. "Harry, but...I wanted to surprise you with dinner.  You already ruined it by coming home early, so at least let me do it on my own!"

 

"Oh, come on, Ginny," Harry said. "I'll just be an extra pair of hands.  I won't get in the way.  Please let me help you.  I want to."

 

"You just don't think I can do it," Ginny pouted.  Harry leaned in and kissed her protruding bottom lip.

 

"I know damned well you can, but I just can't resist you when you're covered in flour.  It's sexy," he said, kissing her again, this time lingering.  Ginny's pride melted a little under his sweet, blistering kiss, but not enough.  She broke away from his mouth and shook her head.

 

"No, you're not going to kiss me into this," she said, pushing on his shoulder. "If you think it's so sexy, then you can just watch me from the table as I work my magic."

 

Harry's eyes narrowed and he bit down on his wet lip enticingly. "Fine. I'll watch...for now..."

 

Ginny's pulse leapt at the weight in his words.  He let her go and sat down at the table, watching her with his thumb between his teeth.  She turned back to the potatoes and waved her wand at them.  The skins zipped off of them too quickly and the potatoes landed on the floor.  She winced and glanced at Harry.

 

"Don't laugh!"

 

Harry held up his hands. "Wouldn't dream of it."  But he looked like he was fighting the impulse with tooth and nail. 

 

Ginny scooped up the potatoes, washed them and then cut them up.  She put them in water in a pot and set them to boiling.  That done, she flipped the chicken over, noting the wonderful aroma of it frying.  She was rather impressed with her skills so far, but as she turned to the beans, she saw the shredded mess and sighed.

 

"What am I going to do with this lot?"

 

"Well, they're still beans.  We can still eat them," Harry said, looking at them with amusement still glinting in his eyes.

 

"It looks like spinach," she said, gesturing to the pile. Harry shrugged. "Oh well, I'll cook them up, I suppose."

 

She put them in water and put them on the stove as well. She looked around for something else to do, but the chicken was frying, the potatoes were slowly cooking and the beans would take a while to get tender.  So that left the biscuits and as she pulled the cloth off of the top of the bowl, she saw that it had risen perfectly.

 

"See?  I'm doing just fine, bean fiasco aside!"

 

She pulled the sticky dough of the bowl and put it on the floured surface of the counter, then dipped her hands in flour.  She looked at her mother's recipe and saw that she had to knead the dough and then cut out biscuits.  Easy enough.  She rolled the dough out, pushing and kneading.  She felt Harry's eyes on her and knew he was watching with that interested, burning glint in his eye.  She wriggled her bottom a little, knowing he loved that. 

 

After a few hard turns of the dough (and quite a few twitches of her hips from side to side) she heard Harry's chair scrape along the floor and his footsteps as he walked toward her.

 

"Here, let me help...  You're not kneading it enough..." Harry said, putting his arms around her, his flour-coated hands covering hers.  Ginny felt a shiver course down her spine as Harry's warm body pressed against hers from behind. 

 

"I can do it," she murmured as Harry's breath stirred against her ear, making goosebumps raise up over her freckled skin. "Harry...what are you doing?"

 

"Can't help it...your arse looked bloody amazing..." He pressed in, her stomach hitting the edge of the counter as his mouth landed on her neck, which she arched to the side, her eyes closing.  Shivers of pleasure raced down her body, making her toes curl up.  His strong hands covered hers, squeezing, kneading the dough slowly. 

 

"Ohh...Harry..."

 

Harry kissed her neck, sucking heavily on her pulse point and then dragging his lips to her jaw.  He peppered little bites up her jaw line toward her ear.  His voice slid into her ear, low and raspy, "Merlin, I want you."

 

He certainly did.  She could feel his not-so-little want pressed tightly against her bottom and growing harder with every second. Ginny pushed her bottom back and rubbed against him.  Harry's hands tightened on hers and he hitched in a little breath.

 

"Is it the apron?  It's the apron, isn't it?" she whispered as Harry put one floury hand on her slender waist.

 

"Maybe," he said. "Could just be that you're damned sexy when you're in over your head.  All I know is that I officially cannot keep my hands off of you.  Even if I wanted to."

 

"Harry, I have to turn the chicken," Ginny said, but Harry was kissing her neck again. "It's going to burn."

 

"Let it," Harry breathed, rocking his hips forward, pushing her stomach against the counter's edge again. Ginny moaned a little at the feel of him nudging her buttocks.  A spark of hot wetness flooded her stomach and tingles flared to life in her groin.

 

"The potatoes?"

 

"Still boiling."

 

"The beans?"

 

"Beyond our help," Harry mumbled, his hand sliding up her apron front and cupping one breast.  He kneaded her like she was dough and she arched her back, gripping the dough balled on the floured surface of the counter.  Harry bit down on her shoulder and a shudder wracked her body.  Ginny twisted in Harry's arms, her buttocks against the counter.  Harry's tongue slid along his bottom lip as he looked down into her flour-streaked face. She could see his intentions burning in his eyes as she put her arms around his neck.  He pressed against her, his arousal at her belly, turning her legs to jelly.

 

"My mum is in the living room," she said, sparing a glance at the closed door, where she could still hear the wireless going.

 

"She won't come in," Harry said.

 

"She might," Ginny warned as Harry let his floury hands land on her buttocks, hauling her even closer.  She gasped and fisted her hands in the collar of his shirt. "We can't do this here, Harry..."

 

But Harry wasn't listening.  He closed his mouth over hers in a searing kiss, one that took her breath away.  She clutched at him, his hands squeezing her buttocks.  Ginny kissed him back, their chests pressed together, her nipples tingling.  His tongue darted into her mouth in steady strokes, making her moan and writhe between his hard body and the counter. 

 

Ginny slid her hands down his front and managed to work her fingers between their bodies.  Harry groaned softly as she massaged the hard line of his cock through his trousers.  Their mouths parted, his hot breath against her lips.  He was panting, desire clearly sparkling his green eyes. "Need you..."

 

Ginny was beyond fighting it.  She needed him too.  She forgot all about the chicken frying on the stove and the fact that her mother was in the living room.  She needed Harry, wanted him.  She swiftly undid his trousers and pushed them down his hips as Harry pulled her skirt up, his hands diving beneath the soft, flour-streaked material and yanking her knickers down to her ankles.  Ginny stepped out of them as he grasped one leg, pulling it over his.

 

He lifted her, her buttocks against the counter, his hard cock nudging her folds.  She braced herself and then he slid inside, heavy and firm. Ginny's head went back, her mouth open in a silent gasp of pleasure.  He was warm and hard and fantastic.  Ginny clutched at his shoulders, her mouth seeking his again.  Harry groaned a little and thrust into her, filling her, taking the edge off the hunger he'd sparked. 

 

Pleasure spiked in her, hot and overwhelming.  She wrapped one leg around his, the other keeping her upright as Harry thrust into her, one hand on her hip, the other gripping the edge of the counter, keeping them both steady.  Harry stroked upward, his hips snug against hers, filling her in sharp, short strokes, driving away all thought.

 

He hit a particularly sensitive spot and she gasped, breaking away from his mouth, her head going back. 

 

"Oh...Harry..."

 

"Ginny?  What's going on?" her mother suddenly called from the other room, making Ginny squeak and stare at the door over Harry's shoulder.

 

"NOTHING MUM!" she said, clutching at Harry, who seemed to be chuckling against her neck, still thrusting into her. "STAY IN THE LIVING ROOM!"

 

"I KNOW!  What's Harry doing, dear?  Is he helping you out?"

 

Harry laughed against her neck and tugged her earlobe between his teeth. 

 

"Er...yeah...he's uh..." Ginny couldn't quite think of anything to say that wouldn't put her over the edge of hysterics. She couldn't believe this was happening.  And Harry was laughing about it, still thrusting smoothly inside of her. 

 

"Harry, don't let her make a mess!"

 

"I won't, Mrs. Weasley," Harry called, flashing a grin at Ginny and circling his hips upward and down.  That seemed to satisfy her mother and they heard nothing but quiet from the living room.  Harry lifted her nearly off of her feet, that grin still on his face. "Come on, Ginny...am I helping you out?"

 

"You are so dead," Ginny hissed, clutching at him, pleasure slamming into her.

 

"Come on, Ginny...let me knead your biscuits," Harry laughed, their bodies gyrating together as he cupped her buttocks and squeezed. Ginny glared at him.

 

"That's not funny!  Ohh..."

 

"Stuff your chicken?" he whispered roughly, his pace quickening to a dizzying degree, jerking wildly into her. Pleasure slammed into her, her lower half on fire.

 

"SHUT UP!" she hissed, trying not to laugh even as she felt her body coiling, readying for release.  She knew Harry was close as well, his face red, his laughing eyes glassy with pleasure.

 

"Mash your taters?" he grunted, arching high into her clenching, responsive body.

 

"Don't make me snap your beans, Potter," she said, losing the battle with laughter and giggling around a moan.  She put her elbows on the edge of the counter, back arched.  Harry gripped her hips and slammed home one last time. They both came, bodies strung tightly, their mouths connecting.  They drank each other's moans, kissing wildly, their bones liquid. 

 

Slowly he let her down, his hips still working gently against hers, drawing out the liquid-warm feeling of ecstasy. Ginny stilled against him, her arms around his neck. He moved his mouth back down to her neck and sucked heavily at her skin.

 

"'Mazing," he mumbled.  She sort of had to agree.  That was different.  They'd definitely never done it in her mother's kitchen, with her mother in the next room.  And that reminded her...

 

"Could have been caught," she said, pushing at his shoulders.  He drew away, that maddening smile still on his face.

 

"Half the fun.  Don't tell me you didn't love that," he said, withdrawing from her, leaving her wet and messy on the insides of her thighs.  Ginny tried to glare at him as she pulled her knickers up and he refastened his trousers, but couldn't.  She had loved the danger of it. "See?  I know you too well, Weasley."

 

She started to reply, but the sound of something popping caught her eye.  She glanced over at the stove and squeaked as she saw that the chicken grease had ignited on the stovetop.  A blossom of fire appeared, licking along the grease.  "FIRE!"

 

Harry was quickest.  He grabbed his wand and sucked the grease up.  The fire disappeared, but that wasn't the only problem on the stove.  The potatoes boiled over, the water sloshing everywhere with a hiss.  The beans gave a bubble and smelled like they were sticking to the bottom. 

 

"Oh dammit!" Ginny exclaimed, grabbing the handle of the potato pot in her hands.  She drained the boiling water off and set them back down.  Harry flicked his wand at the shredded green beans and they stirred themselves, the scorching ones unsticking from the bottom.  Crisis averted (for the time being), Ginny let out a breath. "I hate cooking."

 

Harry laughed and pointed to the kitchen table with his wand. "You.  Sit!"

 

"But--" Ginny started, but Harry cut her off.

 

"You've done enough and indulged me.  Now I get to take care of you," he said, turning back to the chicken.  Ginny sighed and gave up.  She really did hate cooking.  Besides, from her perch on the chair, she could see that Harry wasn't bad at all.  He mashed the potatoes with a flick of his wand, finished making the biscuits and sent them into the hot oven with ease.  Then he stirred the beans again, which, under his care, began to look a little better and edible.  He even managed to make gravy after the chicken was finished.  The biscuits came out of the oven hot and soft and the gravy was ready in a flash. 

 

Harry set the table and turned around to face Ginny, trying not to look as smug as she knew he felt.  She crossed her arms over her chest.

 

"You suck," she said as she took off her messy apron and flung it aside. "You're good at everything!"

 

Harry shrugged. "I can cook, so what?"

 

"But I'm...I should be the one cooking for you!  That's how it works!  The way to a man's heart is through his stomach," she protested.  Harry snorted loudly as he waved his wand at the flour on both of their faces.  He cleaned the counter with another short flick.  The chocolate vanished as well.

 

"Ginny, I didn't fall in love with you because you could cook," he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her up into his arms. She went with a sour expression on her face, though his touch excited her to no end. "I fell in love with you because you're the sort of person who tries something they hate, just to please other people.  You don't have to cook to make me happy.  In fact, I think it'd be better for everyone--especially beans--if you don't."

 

Ginny smacked him on the shoulder. "You mean that?"

 

Harry grinned. "Of course..."

 

His lips closed over hers again and she lost herself in the feel of his kiss once again, still blushing and wet from their quickie against the counter.  They pulled away after a few minutes to find her mother standing in the room, her hands on her hips.

 

"Mum!" Ginny gasped, surprised at how silently her mother had moved into the room. "I told you to stay out!"

 

"While you were cooking and you're not cooking any longer!" Molly said, glancing at the meal on the table.  Her eyebrows lifted and she looked a little stunned. "You did that?"

 

Ginny bristled a bit at the incredulous tone in her mother's voice and then realized that she'd only done a part of that.  She glanced at Harry.  Before she could answer, Harry grinned at her mother and led her to a seat.

 

"Of course she did, Molly," Harry said, winking at Ginny over the top of Molly's head. "Ginny's a great cook."

 

Ginny went pink and glared at Harry.  She was grateful though.  She didn't need to hear her mother say 'I told you so'. 

 

"See?  There's hope for you yet, dear," Molly said as Harry and Ginny sat down at the table with her.  Harry loaded up Molly's plate and she immediately tucked in. "Oh!  This is good!  Very good!  Oh, Ginny I'm so proud.  You know I always say a way to a man's heart is through his stomach.  Harry, you're a lucky man."

 

Harry grinned and dug into his own plate. "Don't I know it."

 

"Ginny, could you get me something to drink?" Molly said around a mouthful of chicken.  Ginny nodded and walked to the icebox.  As she was getting a pitcher of iced tea out, she heard her mother say in an alarmed voice, "Why have you got white handprints on the back of your dress?"

 

Ginny exchanged a terrified glance with Harry, who immediately started stuffing mashed potatoes into his mouth, his eyes on his plate.  His face went red and she thought he was choking back laughter. 

 

If I didn't love him, I'd kill him, Ginny thought, opening her mouth to reply.  Instead, she just burst out laughing.  Harry lost it as well, snorting over his mutilated green beans. 

 

"What?  What did I miss?" Molly said, sounding bewildered. 

 

Ginny and Harry just laughed harder.

 

(end)

 

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