Character: Tom Riddle, the boy who becomes Voldemort
Warnings: Gratiuitous kitchen abuse
Your character's fandom: Harry Potter
Word count: 1065 per MS Word
Disclaimer: I don't own Tom Riddle -- if I did, he'd have decent motivations.
Crossposted to licenseartistic
Blaise was always cooking delicious dishes for them both, and all Tom seemed to be able to contribute was warming up leftovers and making beans on toast. One day, while Blaise was out working in the garden, digging, planting, and weeding, Tom decided to try to bake cookies for his lover. There were plenty of cookbooks, and if he were able to make a potion he'd never made before by reading how to in a potions book, then how different could cooking be?
Measuring the ingredients wasn't difficult -- measuring was measuring, and it was infinitely easier to measure dry goods than flobberworm slime. Combining the flour, baking soda, and salt in a small bowl was also simple -- or at least it was after he realized how light flour could be and how easily it could fly all over with the slightest provocation. He used the back of his hand to wipe it off his face and resolved to be more careful.
Then the recipe told him to beat the butter, sugars, and vanilla in a large mixing bowl. He was certain that pounding on it with a spoon wasn't what they intended, so he looked through the cookbook trying to find what they meant, and finally decided they meant stir it together. But how on earth was he supposed to stir solid butter into grainy sugars and liquid vanilla? Perhaps the person writing the instructions had skipped a step, like, perhaps, warming the butter until it was soft?
He shrugged, accioed his wand and cast a quick warming spell on the butter. In moments it had melted and was much easier to mix into the rest of the ingredients. Next, it was time to add the eggs. He frowned at the imprecision of the instructions -- obviously, he was supposed to break the eggs into the mixture, but it didn't say that. Absently he wondered what kind of horrific accidents could happen in potions making if potions instructions were as sloppily written. But, there were eggs to break and cookies to make, and he pushed that concern out of his mind and continued.
After he picked the shell pieces out of the mixture and managed to shake them off into the trash, he mixed the ingredients as directed and then added the second egg. This time, he was proud of himself for only ending up with a few shell fragments in the mix. After picking them out, again he stirred the mix, and then started adding the powdered ingredients, stirring as he went.
His arm was growing quite tired by this point from mixing, and holding bowls and more mixing. He sighed and put the bowl and spoon down, then cast a simple charm on them so that the spoon mixed the ingredients and the bowl of powdered ingredients gently sifted its contents into the larger mixing bowl a little at a time. While it mixed, he checked the oven and made sure he had set it to preheat to the right temperature, then pulled out the baking sheets.
A quick check of the mixture (which somehow resulted in the spoon trying to run away, but he caught it again before it could do more than splatter a bit of the dough across the ceiling), he nodded, satisfied that it was all blended correctly. Now it was time to add the chocolate chips, which was easy, but highly tempting.
Tom was proud of himself -- he managed to stop himself from eating more than a handful of the semi-sweet morsels, and only sampled a little bit of the dough. It seemed quite delicious, and he was sure Blaise would be so surprised and so proud of him. He whistled a little tune while he scooped out spoonfuls of the dough and dropped it on the baking sheets, making certain to space them evenly just as the instructions said. And then it was time to pop them in the oven and bake them.
Exactly ten minutes later, Tom pulled the cookie sheets out of the oven, and stared at them. The melted butter had made the dough just soft enough that what was supposed to be two-dozen cookies had turned into two very large, flat cookies. They looked good, but...
Blaise walked in from the garden just in time to see Tom trying to magic one large, flat cookie out of the second cookie sheet. The other one was already on a wire cooling rack, beginning to droop down here and there between the supports. Tom looked up at him in surprise, and the cookie sheet still full of cookie flipped upside down, dumping its contents unceremoniously on top of the cooking utensils and bowls still scattering the table.
Blaise stared, trying very hard not to laugh as his lover looked up at him with wide eyes. Flour was smeared across his forehead and one cheek, more of it sprinkled in his curls along with pieces of eggshell, and there was chocolate smeared on one corner of his mouth. When he looked around the kitchen, Blaise saw dollops of cookie dough splattered across the ceiling, one chocolate chip resolutely clinging to it, and more flour and egg remnants sprinkled across most of the counters. "Baby? What happened?" he asked quietly.
"I... baked cookies!" Tom blurted, blushing fiercely. "I wanted to surprise you, and... I think there's something wrong with the recipe, because it didn't work the way it was supposed to..."
Blaise smiled and walked to Tom, and wrapped him in his arms. "Oh, my heart, you are so cute," he said softly. "It doesn't matter if they came out looking perfect, as long as they taste good." And then he pried part of the cookie off the cooling rack and popped it in his mouth, and smiled broadly. "Mmmmmm -- you did good." He broke off another piece and held it up to Tom, who smiled and opened his mouth for it.
"Oh -- it does taste good!" he said, some surprise in his tone despite himself.
Blaise nodded and kissed him, licking away the stray chocolate. "Now, how 'bout you go take a quick shower, and I'll clean up the kitchen, hmmn? You've got a little... um..." He paused, trying very hard not to laugh and somehow managing to keep a straight face, "How did you get egg in your hair, anyway?"