Disclaimer: All characters belong to the wonderful J.K.Rowling apart from Dana Bell and Professor Sedley who are all mine I tell you, mine!
To say that Severus Snape was having a bad day would be have been the greatest understatement of the century. First, there had been the Hufflepuff first years. Not his favourite year group. This particular morning he had been teaching them the invisibility potion, which they appeared to have interpreted as, make the messiest concoction you possibly can and throw it around like tomato soup. And now this. Sixth and fifth year Gryffindors and Slytherins locked in a potions lab for two hours. Except it wasn't potions class. Instead it was possibly the most dangerous class he'd ever have to teach. Sharp objects, alcohol, blood, and tiramisu. This was Domestic Science 101 and he'd drawn the shortest straw in more ways than one.
He was currently storming through the corridors of Hogwarts towards the potions room, in which the lesson - blast it - had been scheduled. With a grunt of territorial hostility towards the world in general, he swung open the doors to the potions classroom and stifled down what might have been a howl of outrage.
He began to breathe heavily, closing his eyes momentarily to avoid the sight of this travesty. No longer the dank abode of cauldron scum, faded lime scale, and decaying ingredients, the classroom had been transformed into a horrifyingly clean classroom, set in neat rows of benches, all in the uniformly sparkling, bright, infuriatingly sparkly shade of white. The class sat chatting nonchalantly at the benches and ignoring him. The reason for this was plain; at the desk (his now clean, orderly desk, devoid of stuffed armadillos, tri-cornered flasks and all) was Professor Flitwick and the new member of staff. Flitwick brightened immediately and came over to him.
"So glad you're here - they were getting a bit rowdy. I took the opportunity to sort the room out."
"Sort the room..." Snape found himself too paralysed with rage to speak. With an effort he resisted the urge to kick Flitwick, who bustled past him with an air of distinct satisfaction.
"I thought I did rather a good job on it," remarked Flitwick with an enthusiastic smile. "It needed a clean up, don't you think?"
The lemon scented air freshener (with hint of honey) hanging from the ceiling quivered unstably as Snape wondered what would happen if he spontaneously combusted.
"
But let's move back a few minutes, where Ginny Weasley was presently squashed between Colin Creevey and Dana Bell in the potions classroom, now full of large tabletops, whisks, measuring jugs and other such muggle paraphernalia, which were causing a great deal of amusement to the non-muggle borns.
"And you say they cook with these?" she asked, sticking her head into the oven and looking into its black interior, vaguely appalled.
"Yup," replied Colin. "My mum uses it all the time - although she doesn't often try to stick her head into it unless granny's coming round for Sunday lunch."
As Colin began to explain the technological triumph of the muggle world that was the oven, she began to wonder what she could possibly have done to deserve such a terrible class in her schedule. It had been a pet project of Professor Barnes, the inexcusably enthusiastic head of Muggle Studies. A middle-aged woman with the proportions and dress sense of a fluffy tea cosy, Mrs Barnes had clearly taken muggle cookery to her heart after taking a summer course and had subsequently added it to the curriculum.
So as you can imagine, Ginny Weasley - whose culinary experiences including setting a Madeira cake on fire, scalding the family ghoul with a pan of baked beans, and producing custard that caused venereal disease - was not happy.
Not only was she stuck in a class that would earn her the further ridicule of her entire family, but it was being supervised by Snape, the bane of her existence and possibly the most miserable man to walk the earth. Add in the fact that she was seated at the same table as James Leighlands, her own personal stalker (currently telling her about his pet mastiff Pippin and how he liked Twiglets more than Skips) and you could be pretty sure saying that she was not a happy bunny.
She was prevented from asking James if there was any history of sanity in his family whatsoever because of the arrival of Professor Snape who took one look at his transformed classroom, let out a muffled cry of indignation and stopped short in the doorway. Ginny grinned. It was nice to think that someone else wouldn't be enjoying the lesson. He'd get no sympathy from her. After all she still hadn't forgiven him for making her test out her invisibility potion in her second year. True to form, it hadn't turned out right, thus showing off her day of the week underwear with the word `Tuesday' emblazoned across her training bra. She'd had Slytherins coming up to her years later after the incident asking her what day it was and whether she'd like to flash them to make sure it was right.
Her attention was bought back to the present when the object of her thoughts turned furiously to the cookery teacher, who'd been introduced as Professor Sedley.
"May I ask what is the meaning of this?" asked Snape whose silky voice contained more than double the usual amount of venom. "Who gave you permission to alter my classroom?"
Professor Sedley, who was either braver or more foolish than most people, turned and pinned him with calm blue eyes and said evenly, "I received permission from the headmaster and Professor Flitwick was kind enough to oblige. Now if you've quite finished standing in the doorway and blocking the students way in, I do believe it is time to start the lesson."
Leaving a sullen Snape behind her, she turned and called to the sixth year Slytherins who were strolling in led by Draco Malfoy, characteristically late. "Hurry up and take your places please so I can start."
Ginny kept her eyes resolutely towards the front, ignoring the derisive look he gave her as he sat down at the bench behind, in between Pansy and Blaise.
"Good morning class. Now you all know my name," she acknowledged the blackboard from which her name was flashing in different colours, "I'm going to start by asking you all to write your names on this piece of card. That way it will be easier for me to learn your names. So if you could all do that now please I would be very grateful," she called cheerfully, passing bits of purple card to the first person on each row to pass down.
Ginny grabbed a quill and scribbled her name quickly, placing the card in front of her with the name on the front.
"Thank you all very much. Now in today's lesson I'm going to check up on your cooking skills. The purpose of this course if to have you all successfully planning and preparing your own meals by the end of the year. Your task will be selected at random and you will be given some time to research the ingredients needed and the instructions. There is now a cookery section in the library so by all means go and have a look around. Those of you who have never cooked will definitely need to. If anyone has a problem then by all means come and talk to me before next week."
Ginny stared around the classroom watching the reactions of the other students who received their task first. A piece of card landed on her desk. Hopefully it wouldn't be anything too hard. Toast would be great. Not too hard and not too easy. After all you had to make sure it wasn't too burnt or too uncooked. It was a skill on its own.
She opened up the piece of paper before she had time to chicken out and read the words written on it dubiously. What in the name of Merlin was Pavlova? She continued to read and her eyes landed on a list of books she would need to use to find the ingredients and instructions. There was a list of eight books and she stifled a groan as she thought of all the reading she would need to do.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a ruckus caused by the seventh year Slytherins and particularly by Blaise Zabini who was staring at his piece of card with what looked like utter hatred. When he spoke it was in a tone that implied he was seeking dark and bitter revenge for those responsible.
"Apple Crumble?" Blaise Zabini seethed through gritted teeth, ignoring Professor Sedley's disapproving look.
"I wouldn't complain if I were you, Zabini," said Draco.
"Oh yes?" he replied unpleasantly. "What did you get then?"
"Just something worse."
"Oh come on Draco."
He gave him a dark look. " The gods are visiting their punishments on me. Let's leave it at that."
"I'll find out next week anyway..."
"Fine," said Draco. "But you can expect your hair to be singed with the blow torch I'm using for it."
"For what?"
"Crème brulee."
A/N: Please, Please, Please let me know what you think in a review. I'll send you cake! And chocolate cake at that!
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