Buffy belongs to Joss, Harry belongs to JKR. No money is being made here, it's all in good fun.
When the deafening bang echoed through the flat, Ginny tore into the kitchen just in time to see Dawn flop into the nearest chair and thump her head softly on the table.
“It’s hopeless, Gin, I give up. Defensive magic, I’m great. Translation of runes, no problem. If it’s something the average Auror or curse breaker needs, I can do it. But I’m utterly rubbish at household spells. I’m going to have to live Muggle style. It’s not like I don’t know how.”
Ginny Weasley grinned, well aware of her flatmate’s tribulations with domestic magic. She and Dawn had been friends pretty much since Dawn’s first day at Hogwarts, when Gin learned that the odd American not-exactly-Muggleborn was an orphan, with only one sister and a few friends for family.
Ginny had been impressed when she learned said sister was a vampire slayer, but what had really made her and Dawn Summers what Dawn termed BFFs was finding out what Dawn’s life in Sunnydale had been like. Gin had opened up to her about the Voldemort experience after Dawn had told her about her blood being used to trigger an apocalypse, and the two of them had bonded.
They’d been out of school well over a year now, living in a flat in a magical neighborhood in London, and Dawn had been trying for just over a month to learn how to cook like a witch instead of doing it the Muggle way. She’d been taking the Hermione approach, trying to learn it out of books like Practical Household Magic
and One Minute Feasts
It hadn’t exactly been a resounding success. Today’s mishap had apparently involved trying to peel potatoes. Ginny could tell, because they’d ended up peeled, all right- bits of potato peel currently decked every surface in the kitchen (her flatmate included) having departed their previous positions with explosive force. An entire sack’s worth of peeled potatoes sat on the table, giving off faint wisps of steam.
“You might know how to live Muggle style, but I don’t,” she pointed out. “Mum may have made us peel or wash kitchen things by hand when we were underage, but I don’t think we ever did laundry with those funny machines or carried the rubbish out for the bin men. And I’m pretty sure the bin men don’t even know this flat exists, so the cleanup issue could be a real problem.”
“No,” Dawn announced morosely without lifting her head up, “that’s the one thing I can do. I’ve had enough practice at Evanesco
to be really
good at it by now. Enough kitchen spells gone badly wrong that if I couldn’t get that right, I would have had to stop even sooner.”
“Gin? Dawn?” came a familiar voice from the front hall.
“Why does she pick today of all days to be early?”
Ginny couldn’t help it anymore- she giggled, provoking a fierce glare from Dawn.
“Oh, come on, Dawn, it’s not that bad. And it’s not like ‘Mione got every
spell right the first time-“
The witch in question had just walked into the kitchen, where she couldn’t avoid the sight (and sensation, in a few cases) of potato peel. Her eyes went from the peel on every surface but the nude potatoes on the table to her flatmates.
“What on earth- Dawn, how did you do this?” Hermione asked, sounding more astonished than anything else.
“See, Gin? Hopeless. She doesn’t even have to ask who’s responsible, she knows
“Well, unless you’ve let Ron over here because George has forbidden him practicing cookery in his
flat anymore and he’s hiding in the bathroom…”
“Wait, Ronald ‘why on earth would you want to do these things the Muggle way’ Weasley can’t cook using magic either?” Dawn demanded, bolting upright.
Hermione raised an eyebrow. Ginny’s jaw dropped.
“You’re saying Ron
of all people has been giving you a hard time about not using your wand?” Ginny demanded. “Oh, just wait until I get hold of my darling brother. No, wait, better- just wait until I tell Bill and Charlie and Percy and George what he’s been up to! He’ll never hear the end of it!”
Hermione snickered at Dawn’s puzzlement.
“Dawn, you may have noticed Ron’s not been round for dinner lately,” she began. At Dawn’s nod, she continued. “That’s because I got tired of him always turning up with some lame unbelievable excuse like ‘oh, I didn’t realize you girls were just sitting down to eat’ and then looking pitiful if he doesn’t get invited to have some.”
“He did seem to be eating here pretty regularly for a while,” Dawn said cautiously.”But he hasn’t been unless you’ve invited him specifically for months now.”
“Yeah, well, that’s because I banned him!” Hermione replied with a giggle. “I was chatting with Gin one day and we realized he’s always eating here because he still can’t cook! He would go for lunch in Diagon Alley with George, and we think he was getting breakfast at Harry’s, and then for dinner he came here. So I put my foot down. Told him he needs to put on his big wizard’s robes and learn to be self-sufficient, because I’m not spending a lifetime doing everything for him the way Harry and I had to when we were on the run. I’m happy for us to be partners, but I’m not going to be his mum or his maid.”
“So Ron’s been trying to learn the same sort of kitchen and household spells you’re trying,” Ginny said, taking up the tale. “With about as much success, although if his misfires have been as bad as yours, he’s not admitted it to us- I bet George has a few stories. Except Ron’s been at it six times as long and if he’d been paying the least bit of attention all these years, he’s had a good example in Mum his entire life. You, on the other hand, had two years at Hogwarts to our seven and grew up Muggle. So other than me and ‘Mione, you’ve not had anyone to watch and learn these sorts of spells from.”
“But your mum, Gin- she’d be loads of help for him, wouldn’t she?” Dawn asked. She knew Ginny’s parents, as they’d more or less adopted her and Buffy the way they’d adopted Harry.
“He’s too embarrassed to ask, much less go home to Mum every night- cause it would mean admitting that the best he can manage is tinned baked beans on burnt toast,” Ginny replied with a wicked grin. “But you should ask Mum. She’ll cluck and fuss about what a shame it is your mother died before she could teach you, and probably have you doing fancy cakes and three course meals in no time.”
Dawn was looking more cheerful now.
“She’s right, Dawn,” Hermione nodded. “Molly’s been giving you and your sister the full family treatment ever since you moved in with us after leaving school anyway. Mention you’re trying to learn to cook, and she’ll have you sorted in a jiffy. And then you’d really be one up on Ron!”
“Just wait ‘til I see him,” Dawn said with a smirk, as she waved her wand and cleared away the potato peelings from floor, ceiling, and everything in between.
“Yes,” Hermione agreed serenely. “Particularly once you mention you
can at least clean up your own messes.”