Yes, Chef

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

The curved pointed tweezer is steady and meticulous with each mint leaf that was grasped between the points. Harry gently nestled each leaf between two raspberries, a strawberry, two blueberries, and a blackberry while taking painstaking care to not bump the arrangement. Each pot de crème that was being showcased tonight had to be up to perfect plating standards and taste. From the rich velvety custard that was made with the finest chocolates Harry could source, the soft peaks of vanilla cream, the berries Harry had picked up that morning from the farmer’s market in Oxford, the small mint leaf that was plucked from his garden, the homemade caramel that was on the plate in elaborate swirls made from the drawing spoon right down to the small pots that each had a theme of different flora dancing in a nonexistent wind.

It had to be perfect.

The noises from the kitchen slowly flood Harry’s senses as awareness comes back to him in full force. The bustling of the sauté station being broken down and scrubbed until it shined bright silver, the clinking of dishes being brought to the dish pit, his expo, Jamie, breaking down the station and throwing the tickets into the rubbish bin, and the servers chatting quietly in the serving galley by the glasses while waiting for the desserts to be set in the window.

In.

“I need hands!” Harry bellowed, not concerned with the chance his voice may be heard from the dining room as the entrances and exits from the kitchen had been charmed with a muffliato. The five servers are immediately there, taking plates as they are placed in the window for their guests. Each carefully balanced as the last and each plate charmed so that the small pots did not shift. Harry wiped his brow with a hand towel and glanced at the clock to notice that he was right on time as it had been exactly twelve minutes since the guests had their dinner plates cleared.

“Great work tonight, everyone, lets break down and get the fuck out of here.” He said to his small crew, beginning to break down the dessert station. He was met with a chorus of ‘Yes Chef!’ before the clanging grew in intensity at the prospect of everyone going to the Leaky for a nightcap before doing it all over the next night.

When younger, if you told a small and frail Harry Potter he would be opening his own chef curated restaurant at the age of 25 and it becoming one of the most sought out seats in Wizarding Britainthe Wizarding World by the time he turned 27, now 28, he would’ve laughed in your face because he hated cooking.

But…

Things change.

Harry really tried to make it through Auror training like what was expected of him after the war and midway through found that he absolutely hated it. He and Ginny got into a serious row after the fact which their romantic relationship never really recovered from as it was almost like she had expected he continued to play hero. In one of the attempts to try and salvage the burnt ruins that was their relationship was a date night to a small muggle bistro that held couple cooking classes once a month. Harry had dreaded going, but he never really did divulge the fact that he hated cooking to Ginny because she never really did want to hear about what he went through in his childhood years and it’s safe to say they broke up not too long after

That class and its finer nuances awoke something in Harry and he began researching culinary programs the next day at the Islington Public Library on their boxy computer. He then began applying to some of the culinary programs at the surrounding colleges. He managed to secure a spot in the Westminster Kingsway College before completing the criteria for an associates and applying to the Culinary Institute of America in New York City.

Breaking the news to Ron and Hermione that he would be moving to New York for four years to complete the rest of his undergrad and gain a masters in culinary arts was excruciating. Ron had thrown an absolute fit and didn’t speak to Harry for almost two weeks and Hermione, even with that disappointed glint in her eye, told Harry that Ron would come around eventually.

“It’s hard on him, you know?” She had told him through the floo. “We’ve been together for a decade unless you count the breaks from Hogwarts and now you’ve told him his best mate will be across the pond and unable to pop over for an ale or attend pub nights.”

And Harry understood, but it still hurt. He did visit when there were school breaks and worked his arse off to be the top of the program and immersed himself in learning different cuisines and perfecting his repertoire. They couldn’t understand why he couldn’t be somewhere on the continent like France, but Harry absolutely thrived in New York City being away from the UK and the daunting memories that haunted it. He tried different foods and ate at Michelin star restaurants to refine his palate and garner ideas from. He cooked and created recipes in his New York City shoebox apartment while also going out clubbing and opening up for the first time in a long time to embracing something new. He worked his way up from a small bistro in the Lower East Side before working his way up to fine dining in Hell’s Kitchen. He made friends, learned the industry, and delved into relationships with all different types of men and women before he graduated and decided it was time to go home.

Sometimes, he still thought about the apartment and the bustling city below his window in Brooklyn. He thought about how he had to carefully aparate somewhere near the carpark of the college because there was no way he was making that commute any other way.
Now standing in Canis, Lupus, Et Cervum and packing his knife bag and plating utensils away he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

Blaise Zabini rounded the corner and leaned against the low boy. He had a mischievous glint in his eyes while his pressed black shirt with small white flowers had two buttons already undone signifying that all the guests had left for the evening.

Upon returning to London, Harry had almost hexed Zabini when he had waltzed into the half finished restaurant and almost immediately began commenting on the decor.

“The wood stain is too… light. It needs to be darker to feel elusive and the lighting is awful, darling. I would take out these white shades, make them glass, and lower the lighting to make it feel more… erotic.” He said, sneering at the offending light fixtures.

“What do you want, Zabini?” Harry had scowled, the small glass vase to the right of them exploding in a thousand glittering shards.

“I heard the Golden Boy is opening a restaurant and I’ve heard it’s supposed to be the peak of culinary eminence seeing how he went all the way to America to learn and be unsurpassed in almost every class. Now, Potter, I rather hope you realize if you are to run such an establishment, you need someone who not only has dined at some of the finest restaurants the continent has to offer, but knows the inner workings of how they run.” Zabini replied, hand outstretched and looking at his cubicles in almost boredom.

“And you expect to just walk in here and for me to let you help me? Did you happen to forget who your friends are and what side you chose?” Harry scoffed, crossing his arms and widening his stance. Zabini’s eyes then flashed something fierce as he matched Harry’s posture. “If I remember correctly,” he started slowly and dangerously, “I didn’t choose a side in the war and my friends have no bearing on my career ventures. I am merely here as a businessman who has knowledge of the industry you want to cater to and had the thought that the Chosen One didn’t hold to such prejudices.” He said, voice icy. Harry kept his lips pressed together, chin tilted slightly up while he pondered his next words.

“Why should I even consider your offer?” he countered, feeling his magic begin to feel agitated as if he was standing in the corridors of Hogwarts and they were about to start throwing jinxes or hexes at each other.

“Because, darling, you need it if you ever want to see this hovel survive a year.”

And from there, a tentative partnership on shaky footing began. There were plenty of arguments and damn near explosions in the first couple of months, but they slowly both began to work together and curate not only a changing menu, but with Zabini’s upbringing, a drink and wine menu to be rivaled with those Michelin star restaurants Harry dined at in New York. It had been agreed upon that Blaise would be the face of the restaurant as Harry didn’t want guests who had just dined there due to his name. Harry wanted to earn recognition and reviews rather than to be just given them due to his name. Each staff member was chosen for their skill and knowledge and also vetted extensively to ensure that they didn’t want the job because Harry was the Head Chef.

As all things go eventually for Harry, The Prophet did find out almost exactly three months into the Canis, Lupus, Et Cervum’s tenure that Harry was in fact the chef behind the ‘culinary marvel’ and owner of the establishment, but by that point they were booked out for nearly six months due to the raging success they had as a fine dining eatery in Diagon Alley.

“We’re almost due for the Leaky, Potter. Hannah has a firewhiskey for me with my name on it and after dealing with table 12 this evening, I plan on enjoying it before I go to Avada myself.” Blaise said, the faint look of reproach on his face.

“Er… were they the ones who tried to say the amuse-bouche was merely roe instead of real caviar? Made you take the tin out and all and requested a small cheese sample instead despite the menu being set?” Harry asked, thinking back earlier to the night and the ache in his jaw reminded him just how hard he ground his teeth when he saw Blaise’s dark skin flushed with anger.

“Yes, then they tried to insist- insist I brought them the wrong vintage as if Pansy and I didn’t perfectly curate the wine selection on a weekly basis based on whatever your genius culinary brain comes up with!” Blaise gaped, hand splayed on his chest in offense. “Darling, I must tell you I’m looking forward to just managing the front instead of dealing with these knut-headed kneezles.”

“Remind me who you chose again? I don’t remember the name of the bloke you hired on as the sommelier.” Harry said, tucking his knife roll under his arm. He tried to rack his brain, trying to remember if Blaise even had mentioned a name at all which made him slightly uneasy. All new hires had a final interview with Harry either staging or showcasing their knowledge for the position they were applying for which further allowed Harry to vet their intentions.

“Nevermind, that,” Blaise replied with a wave of his hand. “I know it was a little unorthodox the way he was brought on seeing how we run things, but he just moved back from France and is considered to be one of the most renowned wine sommelier’s despite his age. I doubt he even knows you own the place and besides… don’t you trust me, Harry?” Blaise said, plastering a blinding white smile on his face. That’s when Harry knew he was up to something because Blaise almost never said his name unless it was used in some sort of manipulation tactic. Bloody Slytherins.

Harry let out an exasperated noise before pinning Blaise with a knowing look, but not questioning him further because he knew the bloke wouldn’t give up the name for one reason or another and Harry was, quite frankly, took exhausted and salivating slightly at the thought of getting a pint and a firewhiskey after how the night went to continue. With his eyes narrowed behind his glasses and Blaise wearing a look of triumph while hooking his arm through Harry’s, they started to make their way to the back after casting the wards and locking charms. With a wandless Nox blaise broke the silence.

“Come now, Potter, we must visit Hannah before she storms up here herself to get us to tame our beloved staff.”

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“Good afternoon, darling, has the order for tomorrow come in? I must simply burden you with the knowledge that we haven’t eaten a thing in anticipation for this week's menu.” Pansy’s voice rang through the kitchen as she entered. Harry looked up from where he was plating his soy and ginger marinated beef on a bed of fragrant roasted garlic vegetable stirfry and laying his chili crisp fondant potatoes on the plate. He began to put a little bit of sauce on the plate with his plating spoon and he hummed and threw up an non verbal and wandless stasis charm before he replied.

“It did and I made sure to source the matcha for dessert from Japan as you requested. It cost more galleons than the veal you requested two weeks ago from Italy. You bloody better enjoy the food this week, but I know if something isn’t up to standard you’ll bloody well let me know.” Harry said fondly. Pansy’s introduction into his circle had been one filled with a curt apology and almost force as she and Blaise were married. Ron nearly lost his top at her when she began appearing at pub nights on Sundays seeing how she did try to pawn him off to Voldemort. Hermione was a little more… professional in her approach when the two Slytherins entered the Lion’s den with the understanding that Harry made amends with them and that they would be a part of his life due to the whole business partner situation.

Ron eventually came round because he’d rather see his best mate for pub nights with the Slytherins rather than not at all.

“Well I’m sure it will be impeccable as always, I’m quite looking forward to the refreshments your new sommelier paired with each dish.” She said, approaching Harry as he slung the kitchen towel over his shoulder and kissed his cheek. Harry gave her a knowing smile as he reached into the pocket of his chef coat for the pack of cigarettes and lighter he kept nestled in there.

“I’m sure Blaise has given the liberty of knowing who he hired. Why don’t we go have a puff and you could enlighten me?” Harry said, steering Pansy by the elbow out the back door. He shook out two fags and handed one to the black haired woman before placing his own between his lips and lighting them without a word.

“You do know how to try and pry secrets from me, don’t you, Potter? While I normally would spill during our weekly…escapade, I regret to tell you I’ve been sworn to secrecy on who he hired. What I do know is he’s just your type.” Pansy said with a wolfish grin before taking a drag. The smoke from the cigarettes spiraled up as they burned and Harry sighed, looking resigned and choosing to ignore the obvious suggestive tone Pansy had.

“Well, did either of you at least mention the schedule to him? Sunday and Monday being days off while Tuesday’s it is mandatory to come in to sample the menu and confirm the beverage pairings with the drink package? Then we operate from five to eleven with two table turns from Wednesdays to Saturdays? Any orders must be in by Saturday for the next week and that he will also be in charge of the ala cart wine and beverage menus?” Harry questioned, his anxiety spiking a bit at the thought of how himself and the two Slytherins plan of action for the past three years changing in the slightest and disrupting the flow of the restaurant. Pansy simply patted his cheek affectionately at his worrying with a sympathetic look.

“Darling, I know Canis, Lupus, Et Cervum is your pride and joy. We wouldn’t hire anyone without filling them in completely to your neurotic ways. The only thing I could see impacting the bloody place is your two bull headed Gryffindor best friends. From their reaction to when I started hanging around with the lot, I could imagine they’ll be less thrilled to be sharing your ghastly pub nights with him, much less our weekly menu tasting.” She stated, almost looking uncertain in the decision to keep whoever this bloke’s name is a secret. She flicked the butt to the ground and stepped on it with her black heel before flicking the door open. “I do hope you give him a chance, Harry. He’s had a rough go at it for the past couple of years. We did withhold that you owned and run Canis, Lupus, Et Cervum when we brought him on as he hasn’t seen a Prophet in years since the war. He will be just as taken off guard as you are.” Pansy said, pursing her lips.

“Well, he should be here by now and everything is ready and plated so why don’t we go greet the bloke?” Harry said, following her back into the kitchen and beginning to work open the chef coat. Pansy was about to reply when the loud sound of yelling broke through the Muffliato charms that stay on the doors leading out into the dining room. Harry exchanged a look with Pansy before leaving his chef coat half open exposing the white pressed button down underneath as they both hastily made their way out of the kitchen. Pansy was fixing her black mini skirt as they walked through the doors and that’s when the charm broke.

“-a bloody Death Eater? Are you fucking kidding me Zabini! Bringing Parkinson around is one thing-”

“Ronald Weasely-Granger if you don’t stop-”

“I suggest you consider your next words very carefully, Weasely-”

“Blaise, I can defend myself! Just because I was in France-”

“ENOUGH!” Harry shouted at the group of four, Pansy gripping his arm tightly and most likely feeling his magic rolling off of him in waves. That’s when green eyes met grey ones as everyone fell silent in the room. “Malfoy, what are you doing here and if someone doesn’t start explaining now, I will be forced to Mimblewimble all of you and undo it one at a time. Malfoy, talk.” Harry said, anger starting to settle into his bones. He wanted an easy evening of drinking, eating, and hearing the critiques for each course for this week that launches tomorrow, no less, and he didn’t want to have to stay until midnight due to the delay.

“Blaise reached out to me upon learning of my return to London as well aware I was looking for employment. He suggested I come work at the restaurant he co-ran and was very tight-lipped about who the owner was, just that we had attended school with them and that they had worked their way up to being the most exclusive establishment in Britain. Of course I’ve heard of Canis, Lupus, Et Cervum, but never delved deeper as my focus was elsewhere. If I knew you owned it I would’ve had more sense than to accept the position considering our differences.” Malfoy said, standing rim rod straight with his hands clasped behind his back and eyes slightly downcast looking almost embarrassed. Harry thought that it was a good look on him.

“Differences he says! As if he didn’t almost kill-”

“I do wish to remind you the mead was not for you, Weasely-”

“Malfoy, please don’t antagonize my husband-”

Harry’s nostrils flared and waved a Silencio on the group. “Malfoy, if I do remember correctly, this is your final interview which means that you now need to impress me. I have six courses waiting under stasis charms in my kitchen and your wine selections are behind the bar in a crate. If you have the expertise that Blaise claims then you will be an asset, but do not mistake me when I say this, you will have to earn my respect and trust and you will not bloody insult my friends. I’ve been informed that you are well aware that Tuesday is our standing day to test the menu for the week for them and if Zabini and Pansy are able to play nice, then I expect the same from you. Understand?” Harry asked, shooting a deadly look at Ron who opened his mouth in protest. “Ron, ‘Mione, I expect respect as well towards my staff. If you can’t manage that then leave.” he finished, lifting the spell from the group. Ron looked like he was about to say something before Hermione elbowed him roughly.

“Of course, Harry, we wouldn’t want to be rude to any of your employees, right Ron?” Hermonie grit out at her husband. Malfoy at least had the decency to look slightly remorseful as he turned and towards the couple.

“I apologize for my earlier behavior. I was simply caught off guard and it will not happen again. Mr. Potter, if you would allow me to, I can prepare the first wine for the amuse-bouche and starter.” Malfoy said, tone oozing stiff pureblooded formalism. Harry merely nodded his head with a muttered “Call me Harry” and shot Blaise a look and turned on his heel. Blaise began to follow Harry to the kitchen with Pansy who simply leaned in as they passed through the Muffliato.

“That was hot, Potter, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you take authority before like that.” she whispered.

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In.

Out.

In.

Out.

It was silent in the kitchen while Harry began setting out the entrees. Up until this point, conversation has been polite and prompt with minimal critiques unless you count Pansy’s request for another serving of spicy tuna served over crispy rice and to up the spice of the wasabi aioli. Blaise stood off to the side as Harry began to levitate the plates.

“Harry, I know I should’ve told you-”

“You’re bloody right you should’ve told me, Blaise! At least a heads up. If the bloke is as good as you say, I’ll chin up and deal, but you have no right springing Malfoy on me with no warning in my own bloody restaurant!” Harry snapped back, running a hand down his shirt and fixing his collar.

“You’re right and it’s an oversight on my part, but Draco is really good and I thought this would be the only way you would be receptive. I do apologize for the surprise, but I’m not sorry for putting him through the hiring process. We need someone who is trained to elevate Canis, Lupus, Et Cervum and he’s as good as the best! You know I would only do what I think is best for our restaurant.” Blaise said. Harry sighed and began towards the door with the plates, biting his tongue because he didn’t want to get into another argument.

“Just leave it, okay? We’ll get it sorted out and I know that you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize Canis, Lupus, Et Cervum. I don't want another bloody argument about it either. Come on, let's see what he paired with this.” Harry said, gesturing towards the dishes that were floating after him. Harry walked out into the dining room and levitated each plate in front of their respective person. He waited for the wine to be poured from a decatur, a nice looking red, before explaining the dish.

“In front of you is a roasted garlic Asian vegetable medley consisting of snow peas, broccoli, carrots, and onion. On top you’ll find a soy, ginger, and garlic marinated and braised beef with a scallion and parsley rice wine reduction. It is paired with a chili crisp fondant potato. Now, for the wine.” Harry said, taking a seat and letting Malfoy stand. Harry took in his appearance, his fine and long white-blond hair pulled back at the nape of his neck by a black ribbon. His forest green armani button down shirt and black slacks still looked impossible unwrinkled and his sparkling black dress shoes reflected the low lighting of the dining room.

“In your glasses, you’ll find the Two Hands ‘Yacca Block’ Shiraz from the Barossa Region of Australia. It is a 1999 vintage that has notes of Earl Grey, black pepper, salted blueberries, and graphite. It is perfectly paired with beef and the ginger and soy of the dish will compliment the pepperiness of the wine. You’ll find it's tannins help break through the meat and offer a complex flavor.” Malfoy said. Harry nodded for him to sit, briefly taking notice of how his slacks perfectly hugged his arse.

While the clink of silverware began, Harry pondered the last time he had even seen Malfoy. It had to be after the trials. He looked so frightened and small back then and nothing like the toned, but lean man in front of him. He looked more refined than the posing boy that he knew.

He let his eyes wander from there, looking at the sleek dark mahogany floors to the soft cream walls adorned with mirrors and a couple of well crafted paintings done by Dean Thomas. Hanging above them were hanging lights with glass fixtures, Edison bulbs emitting a soft glow that made the dark, deep red chairs and white linen tables look soft and not harsh to the eye. On each table were small candle holders with place settings of sparkling silverware, an unfilled collins glass, and a wine glass.

His eyes continued to drift until landing to the well stocked bar with glass mirrors behind it and the liquor bottles sparking and making the light bounce off the glasses that lined the counter. The dark wood of the bar and the cushy bar stools that matched the chairs that Pansy insisted they needed. From there he could spot the entrance to the walk in wine cooler, the office, and the back hallway that led to the bathrooms and kitchen.

Harry continued to ponder about Malfoy as his eyes landed on Hermione and he watched her swirl her wine a little in her glass before taking a tentative sip.

“Malfoy, this wine is wonderful. Where did you find it?” Hermione asked politely, nudging Ron who seemed to be almost done with his main.

“I was able to get in touch with the vineyard who was able to scrounge it up. I had Blaise owl me the reservations for the week so I managed to get just a bit more than enough so we could have a couple bottles on hand, if I get the position that is, to sell.” Malfoy replied primly.

Harry made a noise before setting down his own glass. “‘Mione is right, this compliments the meal well. I’m impressed. Say, what critiques do you have for me so far for this course?” He asked, feeling like he missed something important.

“I think a touch of sesame oil in the reduction would be a nice addition,” Blaise chimed, looking around the table.
“I think it’s bloody well perfect. Only thing ruining it is Malfoy’s presence.” Ron grumbled and was met with a stinging hex.

“What did I say-”

“Mr. Potter, I assure you I don’t take offense. I don’t need you sending hexes at your friends like we’re sitting in the Great Hall. I will, however, say this; Weasley, I have no ill wishes for you. If you can act civilly, then so will I, but I will not tolerate being disrespected like that and do not mistake that I will not do something about that disrespect. If I do get the position, you will be seeing a lot more of my ‘presence’ so I do hope you get used to it.” Malfoy interjected before looking at Harry. “I apologize for interrupting you. Please continue.”

Harry just looked at the man- how did he have such flawless skin? - and nodded before shooting Ron a look. “Behave,” he said, watching as Ron looked cowed a little bit. He then turned to Malfoy again. “Please just call me Harry. All the staff do so and you’ll just stand out calling me Mr.Potter. Do note that when I am behind the window and cooking, you will address me as Chef.” Harry said with a wave of his hand. Malfoy’s eyes glittered a little bit as he said it before hesitantly holding out his hand.

“Then please call me Draco and for the record, it’s Draco Black. Not Malfoy if you ask my father.” Draco said, worrying his bottom lip. Harry clasped the hand and shook, a small smile playing on his lip.

“So be it, Draco Black.” He said with intrigue. The word Black lingered on his lips as he wondered what Draco meant by 'not a Malfoy' as he seemed so prideful when he was younger about his last name. Harry wanted to know what changed.

The rest of the meal and pairings went perfect with no other rude comments directed from either side of the table and with a wave of his hand, Harry sent the glasses behind the bar and the dishes to the dish pit to be cleaned. They did stay at the table a little longer, lingering with polite chatter despite the subtle underlay of tension in the air. Ron and Hermione eventually took their leave after their ‘thank you’s’, ‘goodnight’s, and ‘mate you out did yourself again'. Left at the table was Pansy, Blaise, Draco, and Harry with the three looking at Harry in anticipation for the verdict

In.

Out.

“You will be here at three o’clock sharp. Formal wear is best and I’ve already been made aware of our schedule and how we operate. You are expected to fit seamlessly into service and we do run a very tight ship. There is exactly twelve minutes in between each course, just enough time for the previous to settle, and I will have next week's menu in your hands tomorrow so you can start planning the drink pairings. Staff will also be here at three to meet you, it’s not many of them, and due to your position as a wine sommelier, you are considered to be a manager. Do not fraternize sexually with my staff. You can be friends, you can chat, but I don’t want to have to fire you like the last time I tried to let a sommelier on staff and I found him fucking the bartender in the office. We have a seasonal ala carte beverage menu that I expect you to curate for those who do not want the wine pairing package with their meals and I expect absolute professionalism. With your credentials and what I’ve seen tonight, you’ve impressed me and I believe you will be a good addition to my staff.” Harry said, watching as Pansy’s eyes lit up with excitement and Blaise had a look of relief that matched Dracos.

“Thank you, Harry, truly,” Draco breathed, “So I’m hired?”

“You’re hired.” Harry said, looking into those silver eyes.

“Yes, Chef.”