With the main course in hand, he needed to prepare it. Up in the Room of Requirement, it had provided him everything he needed for the evening to come. There was a dining table for two, already set, next to a dance floor that opened up to a balcony, giving a spectacular view outside. Off to the side was the kitchen, containing all the cutlery he needed. It even threw in a few cookbooks as well. Harry already had something in mind, but he flipped through the books to find a better recipe as he gutted and de-scaled the fish. Even though it was far more messy and bloody than anything he'd worked with before (the Dursleys bought their meat pre-cut from the deli or, sometimes, frozen) he was finding it much more enjoyable. Some of it came from the knowledge that he'd be enjoying the fruits of his labours himself, and partly because it was so much easier to do when the room had provided him with every tool he needed, in perfect condition. The Dursleys had forced him to work with only three dull knives: the chef's knife, the "other knife," and the bread knife.
Unfortunately, while the room provided all the tools, it couldn't provide him with the food. He needed to get the other ingredients from the Hogwarts kitchens... which meant he had to get it from the house-elves. Tentatively, he called out, "Dobby!" The little house-elf popped up beside him.
"Hello Master Harry sir! You is needing-" Dobby paused as he found himself in another kitchen. He glanced at the fish. "You is needing fish cooked, Master Harry?" Before Harry could answer, Dobby popped away, bringing back plenty of herbs, spices, vegetables, and everything else needed to complete a dinner with the fish. Dobby was just about to de-bone and filet the fish when Harry yelled, "Dobby, stop!"
Dobby froze, and so did the knife hanging mid-air. "Dobby... I just needed the ingredients. I want to cook this myself."
Dobby's eyes began to water. "Is Dobby's cooking not good enough for Master Harry sir? Oh, Dobby has failed master when he cannot even cook! Bad, Dobby! Dobby is useless house-elf!" Harry saw a cleaver begin to levitate and move towards the little elf.
"Dobby, stop! I forbid you from harming yourself! It's just really, really important to me that I cook this meal myself. You can cook breakfast for me tomorrow morning then, how about that?" Dobby nodded solemnly. The knives all flew back to their proper places.
Harry then told Dobby, "I still need a few more ingredients. Some broccoli, carrots, cucumbers, a lime, potatoes, grape tomatoes, feta cheese... um..." He went back to the cookbooks and listed the rest of the ingredients he needed. Dobby happily popped back and forth to the kitchen to provide Harry what he needed.
He nearly lost track of time whipping together the dinner, even though it was a simple, three-course meal. He had plenty of fun making his own sauces instead of squirting pre-made stuff from a bottle and ended up experimenting many times to get the flavour right for both the salad and the main course. Seeing that he had half an hour until dinner started, he put the fish in the steamer oven and prepared the dessert as well, then rushed out to the dorm.
After getting changed into his dress robes, grabbing the bouquet of flowers, and rushing back to the room, the fish was done. Perfect timing, he congratulated himself. Just as he added the garnishes and put it back in the oven to keep it warm, he heard the door open. Even perfecter timing! He threw off the apron just as Hermione walked in.
She was even more stunning than on New Year's Eve. This time, she was actually able to take her time getting ready instead of having to undo Lavender and Parvati's work. "So, Harry, what do you have in store for me today? And can I open this box yet?"
"After dinner," Harry said, pulling out a chair for her. After she had settled in, he went into the kitchen and pulled out two plates of salad.
"This is great, Harry! It's even better than the things you cooked up at home... did you get Dobby to help you with this?" she asked as she speared a grape tomato with her fork.
"He certainly tried, but I managed to talk him down to just getting me the ingredients," Harry said proudly.
"You know, with a little more training, you could become a professional chef, Harry." She was savouring the sauce that Harry had mixed together.
"You think so? And here I thought I'd be stuck hunting dark lords for the rest of my life," he said, half-jokingly.
"Harry... you know you'll be able to..." Hermione put her fork back down, but was curious why Harry was saying it so nonchalantly.
"I know, I know... but I think I'll just take things one at a time for now. I don't think I'll be able to figure out what I really want out of life while he's at my back."
"So you don't have any plans for anything when Voldemort's gone? That just seems so... reckless. Doesn't it make you feel uneasy?"
"Maybe it does to you, Hermione, but I'd rather just put it off my mind until it comes up. It helps me ease the tension, focusing on only one goal. You, on the other hand, can't start a class without the entire textbook finished before September first and three alternative textbooks on the subject from the library..." he teased.
"I just like being prepared!" Hermione defended herself.
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