Yes, Chef

When Harry got home that evening- or morning since it was after one, his mind was swirling with thoughts. 

First off, who knew Draco Malfoy Black could be so pleasant ? 

It’s almost as if the bloke grew up and didn’t want to torment Harry despite them not setting eyes on each other in ten years. 

Ron seemed to be a different topic altogether if the git could somehow keep his tongue bitten based on his outburst tonight. Harry had no idea how long the argument was going on for before him and Pansy walked back into the main dining area. 

The second question? When did Draco Black get so bloody fit ?

The man seemed to ooze with pride and held himself to those stiff pureblood standards it seemed while explaining wine , yet he made it sound so erotic . His black slacks were obviously tailored because from what Harry saw, they fit his arse perfectly, and his pressed Armani green shirt had gold embroidering that shimmered when the low lights had hit the shirt right. His hair had been pulled back and a strand of what Harry assumed to be silky soft white-blond hair never escaped the black ribbon he had it tied in and he seemed to have grown into his pointy features to look sculpted, lean, and quite frankly, very very fit. 

Bloody posh git. 

The last question Harry had was if he was making the right decision. He mulled this thought over while sitting on his back stoop, fag between his fingers and watching the smoke curl up towards the night sky. His other had brought a sip of firewhiskey up to his lips and the small breeze rippled through the night. 

Did he make the right decision?

Malfoy certainly made his school life hell when he, Ron, and Hermione attended Hogwarts. The git didn’t know when to stop and always spilled some sort of pureblood ideology rubbish. He purposely antagonized Harry and his friends, but Harry doesn’t think he could ever give up the memory of ‘Mione socking the pointy git in the face in third year. 

But realistically, when was the last time Harry had even heard a slur from Draco’s mouth? Fifth year maybe right before Voldemort exposed himself? 

Harry’s heart gave a hard tug at the thought of that year. 

But really, he couldn’t think of the last time. Draco was tasked with the impossible in sixth year and despite the beginning of the year when Draco had left Harry covered in his invisibility cloak, body bound and with a broken nose, the bloke had bigger fish to fry, as the Americans would say, than Harry Bloody Potter. 

He was still angry about Katie Bell and Ron’s poisoning from time to time, but he couldn’t remember the last time he heard Malfoy Black say some sort of rubbish about purebloods being superior or mudbloods being filthy or even Ron being a blood traitor. 

He didn’t kill Dumbledore, assisted fellow students during that year when the trio were on the run, and he did lie for them at the manor, didn’t he? 

But when does the good outweigh the bad? 

Harry rolled his wrist, taking the last drag of his cigarette before putting it out on the step. He knocked back the last of his firewhiskey, slowly rising and rolling his aching shoulders back before popping his neck. He stumbled a bit back inside, running his left hand through his messy black curls and settling on the couch to flip on the telly. 

He sat there, mindless yet thinking as bright colors flashed on the screen before him, tapping his glass without a word and watching the bottle of Ogen’s tip over and replenishing his drink with two fingers worth of smoking liquid. He took a small sip and relished in the way that it burned a little bit.

As long as Draco Black stayed professional and was not a threat to his restaurant, he would remain civil unless proven otherwise. 

Harry must've dozed off at some point because the next time he woke it was five in the morning and he stumbled up the stairs of Grimmauld Place (and why yes he had plenty of renovations done to the house, thank you very kindly) and fell into bed, only to be awoken three hours later by the alarm he had set on his wand. Harry let out a small groan and turned over, still in last night's clothes, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. 

He set about his morning routine, letting the hot water run over his tanned and tattooed skin, watching the Hungarian Horntail let out a breath of fire down his forearm and rustle its wings. After his shower he dressed in his dark emerald green chef coat and pulled up his black pants, twirling the wet curls with a little bit of Sleekeasy’s to make his hair look messy but more defined. Once he was fully ready for the day with a black coffee in a metal takeaway cup, he apparated over to Oxford to pick up the produce for tonight. 

As always, Neville’s connections pulled through and they presented Harry with the most vibrant vegetables and fruits Harry could ask for. Of course he did try one of the strawberries, their vibrant dark red colour looking rather enticing that morning and he bit into it to sample the product. The fruit burst in his mouth, coating it in a sweet tang that he nodded his approval at.

They’ll pair great with the matcha mochi he had prepped the day before. 

Harry gathered his produce before shrinking it behind the little market and settling it in his shoulder bag so he didn’t lose anything in the apparition to Canis, Lupus, Et Cervum. Once arrived, he unwarded the back door and cast a non verbal and wandless lumos before unshrinking and storing away his goods in the ice box. After shucking off his chef coat and adjusting the sleeves of his white t-shirt, he set about beginning to braise the beef for that evening and dicing the bluefin tuna finely, mixing it with a mayonnaise from scratch and a chili hot sauce he had created from the thai chilies he had sourced the week prior. Harry got into the groove of the day, not thinking as he julienned onions and cubed carrots while humming along to whatever came across the wireless. 

Before he knew it, he felt the wards shift at two thirty and Blaise glided his way into the kitchen, standing not too far from the server galley. 

“Are you just going to stand there or do you have my second cup of coffee with you?” Harry asked, hardly looking up from the wasabi aioli he was bottling and dating. Blaise barked out a laugh before continuing into the kitchen, looking no longer wary of his business partner as he set the takeaway cup and a sandwich wrapped in a wrapper in the expo window. 

“I was worried you might be cross with me about last night, Potter. I wanted to simply see what your mood was before I risked getting my hand bitten by the beast.” Blaise said, dark eyes glimmering, leaning slightly over the expo station to see what Harry was working on.

“You will get your hand bitten if you didn’t bring my second coffee. Is that a bacon and egg sandwich as well? Trying to smooth things before Malfoy gets here, are you?” Harry asked, wiping his hands on a hand towel and grabbing the two items. He took a sip of the coffee which helped soothe his frayed nerves before unwrapping the sandwich and taking a bite. 

“Darling, you know that I wouldn’t let him loose without my guidance at first. He needs to get to know the regular arseholes and see the flow of service first. I have no doubts that he will do great, but I know how… eccentric you can get if a service derails during the evening.” Blaise replied smoothly, tracking Harry’s movements. 

And that was one of his fears, wasn’t it?

That Blaise would just abandon his position all together and no longer help Harry wrangle the front of house and leaving Harry to run the front and the back while Draco just served wine and created beverages. 

Harry sighed before leaning back against the twelve burner stove, taking another sip of his coffee. “What is he like now, anyways? He seemed quite professional last night and for the life of me, I cannot pin him as being pleasant in my years of knowing Malfoy.” he said, crumbling up the paper that was wrapped on his now finished sandwich and throwing the greased item in the bin. 

“Harry, you’ll do well to remember he goes by Draco Black now,” Blaise chidded, “Besides, you haven’t seen him in ten years. He’s my best mate and he worked hard to reset the absolute rubbish his father taught him growing up. On top of that, he has worked extremely hard to make a name for himself outside of Wizarding Britain and he is one of my best mates. I will not tolerate disrespect towards him from you or your weasel because he has worked hard to get here, something I think you can sympathize with in your own journey of getting to this point. We weren’t even on speaking terms when I walked in here three years ago and now I’m fetching you coffee before pre-shift like a dog and making sure you eat something other than a cheese toastie or cereal for the day,” he finished, knowing that Harry very well didn’t have a bloody follow up argument to any of that.

“Yes, well, your service to me is of great thanks. As long as you don’t think you can leave now just because we have Draco Black as our official wine sommelier, I can behave myself just fine,” Harry replied with a wave of his hand. His head turned as he watched his back of house staff begin filing in and setting up the kitchen for the evening, the front of house right behind them, giggling and not yet in their button down shirts. “Seems like your cue to start directing them and setting up the front for service tonight anyways,” he said, watching as Blaise gave him a knowing look before settling a charming smile on his lips and turning to the front of house staff. 

“Darlings, I’m so glad you could make it today. I have someone to introduce you to when he arrives.”  

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In.

Out.

In.

Out. 

Harry cast a Tempus as he waited for his staff to get settled for pre-shift in the dining room. It was four thirty and he could already spot some of the five o’clock dinner guests waiting outside the front entrance. Harry looked over at Draco, taking in his appearance and feeling his mouth go a little dry at the same time. Draco had his hair tied back in the same black ribbon, but his shirt today was a soft looking dark maroon button down that seemed to drip off his slim form. He had a black suit jacket on with bloody fitted black slacks again, his dragonhide boots polished to gleam in the light. His slacks were secured with a black belt that had a silver snake coiled around the buckle, a small silver chain dripping off his neck. He kept fiddling with a few of the rings on his slender fingers and Harry eventually motioned for Draco to come stand next to him. When Draco rose, he strode forward with purpose before pivoting and clasping his hands behind his back where he wrung them almost nervously. Harry gave the man a reassuring nod before noticing something on Draco’s face. 

Was that eyeliner? 

Harry’s brain short circuited for a second as he realized that Draco had some sort of shimmery powder on his face and the charcoal coloured eyeliner smudged just enough under his eyes to make them pop. 

Sweet Merlin, help him. 

Unbeknownst to him, Draco was having some of the same thoughts, feeling his teenage crush start to smolder again when he took in Potter’s toned and muscular arms and the elaborate tattoos that adorned on his arms and peaking through the white collar of the undershirt Harry at on. Seems like Harry also figured out how to tame his hair in the past ten years and he looked so bloody fit oozing importance and Draco was nearly foaming to see Harry in his chef coat again. He was fucked . 

When Harry realized everyone was quiet and waiting expectantly for the pre-shift meeting to start, Harry cleared his throat. 

“As many of you, I’m sure, are now aware, we have a new member of staff. This is Draco Black and he has been brought on by Blaise as our new wine sommelier. I would like to remind you that he is a manager and is off limits to all of your games. Blaise will be taking a step back so he can properly manage and run the front without having to also manage the responsibility of our beverage program. He will be trained for two weeks on how we operate things and I ensure that you’ve been shown around?” Harry directed the last bit at Draco, who merely nodded, eyes slanted slightly. Harry waved his hand and watched as his front of house staff began reading the ink that unfurled on their parchments before them. “This will be this week's menu. It is Asian inspired and we have some lovely wines paired with each dish for those of you who are able to upsell the wine package this evening. Are there any questions?” Harry asked and was met with the mumbles of “No, chef.” 

Harry began to dismiss the meeting when Draco laid a hand on his arm. Harry looked over and saw Draco gesture to the office and the two began their way over with Blaise immediately trailing behind them. Once the three men were crammed in the small space that Harry deemed the office, he shut the door and retrieved two parchments before tapping his head with his wand and then tapping the paper. He watched as the ink unfurled for next week's menu and he handed them to the two men. 

“This is the final draft for the menu next week. Draco, I expect if I need to buy any wine for sourcing it is in my hands by Saturday,” Harry said, feeling a twinge of pride at the upscale Indian faire that will be on the menu next week. Draco nodded before taking a breath.

“Is two weeks really necessary? All I need is to see a couple of nights of dinner service and I should be able to fold into the flow seamlessly,” Draco said, chin tilting up in confidence. 

“If I say two weeks, I mean two weeks. I don’t care if you have a fancy whatever that says you’ve worked in the finest restaurant in France. You don’t know how we run things here and you will be learning with Blaise how I prefer my services to run,” Harry said, anger flaring a bit at being questioned. 

“Besides, Draco, I want you to get to know our regulars who do manage to get in on a monthly basis and tonight we have a food critic from Tokyo dining with us. Food critics are pretty standard, but this one can start the process for Potter to be sped launched into the ability to gain a star . A star! Could you imagine the Wizarding World obtaining its first Michelin star from the Muggle Liaison office? Hermione spearheaded the paperwork for over a year when we realized how exclusive we’ve become. It’s important and all the staff have been aware of tonight for weeks ,” Blaise said, laying a hand on Draco’s arm. “Plus I get to spend some time with my best mate, that isn’t so bad is it?” he asked.

“But I have worked in some of the finest-” Draco started.

“I don't care if you were the bloody Minister of Magic , Draco. This is my restaurant and you’ll go through the two weeks of training. As Zabini says, I’m neurotic about this place and I cannot jeopardize the review,” Harry grit, casting a tempus and seeing that it was almost time to let in guests. 

“If you both would just listen to me-” 

“I need you both up front to start greeting guests while the hosts begin seating. Listen to me Draco, if you want the chance to stay here, you need to play by our rules or you can forget it. I’ve worked my arse off to get Canis, Lupus, Et Cervum to where it is now and I will be getting my fucking star. ” Harry said, opening the door and striding out. He heard Blaise say something to the effect of “don’t worry about him” and he reached into his pocket for his carton of cigarettes. He knew some of the irritability was because he hadn’t gotten the chance to take a smoke today and walked through the kitchen and out the back door to do so. He cast another Tempus, managing to take a few puffs to calm himself the rest of the way.

He should apologize. 

Harry rubbed a hand down his face, muscles flexing a bit under his shirt before he opened the back door and shucked on his chef coat, cigarette hanging from his lips. He briskly buttons up the coat and took one last drag from the fag before flicking it to the pavement and striding back into the kitchen. 

“Let’s get service started,” Harry yelled into the kitchen, casting a cleaning charm on his hands and beginning to pull out the little spheres of seaweed and roe that Harry had made the night before and placing them on top of a saltwater foam. He began putting everything into the window as a chorus of ‘Yes, Chef!’ rang out through the kitchen as service truly began. 

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It wasn’t until the second dinner service that Draco Malfoy Black came into the kitchen. 

In.

Out.

In. 

“The food critic you both were discussing seems to be thoroughly enjoying the food and wine. He requested I send my compliments to you after the prawns, chef,” Draco said tentatively, almost as if he was testing the waters to see if Harry was going to lash out again. 

Harry looked up from plating the mains and began setting them in the window while calling for hands. Green eyes met those grey ones with the smudged eyeliner.

Fuck. 

Harry felt a little guilty and knew he had about twelve minutes before he needed to start plating the desserts and Draco went to the guests to offer the wine he had chosen for the dessert. Harry set the swiss chocolates on the counter from the ice box so they could begin to thaw a little bit for the parting of the guests when they received their bills and gestured for Draco to follow Harry outside. He shook a fag out of the carton and lit it, knowing he’d have to savor it until he could have another on his stoop. 

“You know, smoking affects the taste buds of your pallet which changes how food is perceived when you eat?” Harry asked, breaking the silence. He leaned against the brick wall in the alley, running his free hand through his hair. “It’s why I hold the weekly Tuesday tastings, to make sure my pallet hasn’t been affected too severely, but the Americans got me into this little nasty habit as the muggles call it,” he said before taking a breath. “I apologize for being a bit… brasen earlier. I’m just a little stressed about the critic and I won’t lie and say I wasn’t caught off guard to see you here last night. I haven’t laid eyes on you since the trial and you fucked off to France, but the way that Pansy and Zabini were talking, I should’ve put two and two together.” Harry said, taking another drag.

“Potter, I can only say this with the utmost respect, I understand where you are coming from. Your restaurant is literally named a black dog, a wolf, and a stag in latin. Anyone who went to school with you could imagine what it was to imply and I didn’t mean to threaten your authority. If you don’t mind, I’d like to start over between the two of us. That is, if you would like to? We don’t have to rehash the events of the war either. Clean slate, if you can, between the two of us?” Draco said, holding out a hand once more while Harry studied it. 

He suddenly felt like he was eleven again.

“I accept. I can’t promise the war will never come up as I at minimum think that you should apologize to Hermione for the slurs you called her and Ron for degrading his family, but between us? We’ll call it even. I just need you to make the best damn beverage program Britain has to offer,” Harry said, grasping the outstretched hand and giving it a firm shake. Unlike Harry’s calloused hands from his nine years of cooking, Draco’s felt soft and elegant and if Harry didn’t drop his hand then, his mind would’ve wandered to a dangerous place. 

He didn’t have time to ponder about his sudden growing attraction to Draco. Has it been a while since his last hook up?

Draco gave Harry a pleased smile before opening the back door. 

“We better get back, plates should be getting cleared by now and I have to go set the tables with the dessert wine. I’ll let you get back to it, Harry,” Draco said, eyes following the finished cigarette as it was tossed to the ground. Harry followed him back inside the door and cast a cleaning charm on his hands.

“Yeah… yeah lets do that.” 

With that, the remaining thirty minutes of service went by quickly as the back of house began to break down the kitchen and date the meat from the butcher that came in at the end of dinner service for the next day. Harry began breaking down the stations that haven’t been finished and scrubbing the cutting board that laid on top of the low boy. He felt the wards on the front door go up as his staff began trickling out, feeling nerves set in while waiting for Blaise to return with how the critic's dining experience was. Almost as if he could hear Harry’s thoughts, Blaise came through the server galley and leaned against the low boy as Harry packed away his knives. 

“Everyone is gone and the front of the house has received the tips some of the patrons left this evening. Did you know that in America the wait staff receive an abysmal pay and they have to earn their pay with all tips?” Blaise asked, looking up to see Draco trailing behind and standing in the entrance. 

“I think you forget I worked in America, Zabini,” Harry chuckled, tucking the knife roll under his arm. 

“Yes, all is well. I’m pleased to tell you, however, that it seems like we will be receiving a glowing review from Witches Kitchen and Where To Dine on Friday. Maybe we'll even hear back within a week if we'll be put through the process, but he did let it slip it that it seems like the Muggle Liaison Office is choosing from several different restaurants to potentially get the star so the next year will be critical. We have to elevate everything . Service, beverage, the menu, everything. It's almost as if it's perfect that I snagged Draco over here, right Draco?” Blaise said, looking at the other man.

Draco started talking, but Harry was lost in thought. It was perfect timing because he knew that he didn't know a damn thing about wine pairings and if they were looking at several different restaurants… then they needed all the help they could get. Harry did take several courses in hospitality while in America and he was sure Draco most likely did as well considering his expertise. Maybe…. 

“-so how about some drinks to top off a successful night? I'm sure the staff is already there giving Hannah a hard time. Poor Angela was shaking so much since the critic was in her section I had to pull her in the office to give her a little bit of firewhiskey to calm her down,” Blaise’s warm tone flooded his ears. Harry resigned to going to the pub mentally.

“That sounds like a great idea, Zabini, first round on me? Draco?” Harry asked, gesturing towards the door as he began to lead them out and casting the wards. 

Draco nodded, following him and Blaise out of the restaurant after Harry cast a non verbal nox and began to lead the two down the street. There was a thought in Harry’s mind that was pulling together with each individual string as they walked into the Leaky, his ears seemingly stuffed with cotton as the soft murmurs of Draco and Blaise’s voices didn't not fully reach his ears. 

It wasn't until he had two firewhiskeys and a pint and chatted minimally, ignoring Blaise's looks before he felt his face split into a grin. 

“What countries are the other restaurants in that are being put through the process?” Harry asked, looking at the two blokes across from him. 

“From what I was able to try, it's one restaurant from Spain, France, Japan, China, America, and South America. Why do you ask, Potter? You're already a shoe in with not only your name, no offense, but you've garnered one of the most elusive seats in the entire world. There's no doubt you'll most likely end up with the first Wizarding Michelin. Why do you ask?” Blaise asked, shooting Draco a look. 

“Because I want to earn it, Zabini. He didn't happen to say which restaurants did he?” Harry questioned Blaise who narrowed his eyes.

“He did not, why do you ask?” The other man questioned.

“Because I think we should scope them out. Investigate. Maybe try the food or find restaurants similar enough to be able to get a taste for the region,” Harry said, starting to feel excitement bubble inside him. 

Draco looked at him almost warily.

“And how do you expect us to get seats? I still have some connections through the Ministry that might be able to pull some strings to get me the list, but how do you know they wouldn't recognize you?” Draco asked, taking a sip of his own firewhiskey. Harry, very briefly, focused on his Adam's apple as he swallowed, ignoring Blaise's speculative look because of course the git noticed. 

“If the list isn't common knowledge, then how will they know why I'm there? Besides I might be able to throw around my name a little for once. I hate to do it, I rather hate the attention which is why Blaise is the front man, but I've been working my arse off and Hermione piloted the program,” Harry said, knowing that the alcohol was making him a little… Slytherin esq at that very moment rather than wanting to listen to morals. 

“Listen, I think we research which are the best establishments in those countries so there's no way it could fall back on you. Harry, you've worked too hard for almost a decade to let someone catch you. You sure can sound like a Slytherin to get your way, but you have almost no self preservation sometimes,” Blaise mused. Draco’s eyes had flashed with relief and he reached across the table, tentatively patting Harry’s tanned arm. 

“I agree with Blaise. I'm also sure that if it got out that I managed to procure those papers it wouldn't go over well,” Draco scowled and Harry felt a pang of guilt and had enough sense to feel embarrassed, a hot blush flushing his face.

“You're right, I wasn't thinking, but why don't we make plan? The three of us and Pansy could go and look into it over the course of six months, and then build an action plan? From what I understand there's follow up meals and you have to be nominated to join the process. It does seem the Wizarding World is doing it a little different by only selecting one, but we book portkeys, get a hotel for one night, and then return and compare notes?” Harry said, taking a sip of his pint. “It'll be brilliant and I'll be able to get more exposure in different cuisines. I only learned how to make them and tasted them in either New York or in London, but to travel there? I've always wanted to travel,” he said, eyes shining in the dim pub light. 

“Are you sure you want me to go?” Draco asked hesitantly. 

“Of course, how else am I to source wine or have someone tell me more than Blaise does about it? I haven't a bloody idea about wine, that's why I hired you,” Harry scoffed, but his tone was light. 

“Darling, how will you manage that on top of creating a menu every week? As far as I know you're the only fine dining restaurant, at least in 2008, that has a rotating weekly menu. You're-”

“Blaise, I'm The Boy Who Lived - twice, mind you, I think of menus while I'm doing prep so I'm sure spending one Sunday out of town won't kill me,” Harry waved him off. Draco rolled his eyes and drained his glass. 

“So when do we start?” Draco asked as Harry sneakily opened the window beside him in the booth. He raised his head to see Hannah preoccupied and he shook out a cigarette, spelling it for the smoke to spiral out the window. He lit it and took a drag.

“Why don't you both come over on Sunday? Ron might have my head for skipping pub night, but I'm still a bit upset, if I'm honest, that he couldn't behave himself. I'm sure ‘Mione would understand.” Harry said, already planning on booting up his shitty laptop that was spelled to work with magic by Hermione when he got home. 

“I think that could work,” Draco said before giving Harry a look. “Are you sure-”

“If you ask again I'll fire you,” Harry quipped, smirking as Draco’s face turned bright red. He took a drag of his cigarette as Blaise chuckled and knocked shoulders with Draco.

“This is where you say ‘yes chef’,” Blaise said, eyes measuring the other two men carefully. He noticed how Harry’s cheeks heated slightly and Draco's face turned even more red. 

Something to note to Pansy for sure. 

“Yes, Chef,” Draco said, lips quirking as it was directed at Blaise.

“Oi! I'm Chef, he's just a manager!” 

“Just a manager? If it wasn't for me you'd still have white shades on the lights!”

“Well it's not my fault I quite literally lived in a cupboard in the most ghastly decorated house!”

“Well, some of that might have been the red and gold of the Gryffindor common room sucking out your only brain cell.” 

Harry gaped. “Why am I even friends with you you git?” 

“Because you'd be lost without my impeccable taste, darling,” Blaise said fondly, Draco looking between the two before making the noise of a wheeze. 

“Maybe you two really do get along,” Draco said, standing up from the booth. “Anyone want another round?” 

Harry cast a Tempus and grimaced while Blaise's eyes glinted. 

“Yes”

“No”

The two men stared at each other, brown eyes wearing down the green. Harry’s shoulders slumped as he gave in. 

“One more. I have to still pick up the daily produce tomorrow morning,” Harry caved as Blaise smirked and reached across the table to ruffle his black hair. 

“And my mother said I was a bad influence,” Blaise mused. Draco scoffed and turned to walk towards Hannah, but not before looking over his shoulder. 

“That's because you are,”

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When Harry returned home that night, he shucked off his shoes, vision a little hazy as he plopped down onto the bed. Harry couldn't help but feel like a flying car had hit him as he thought about how Blaise called him out for staring at Draco. 

He was a fit bloke and that's exactly what he told Blaise. 

Blaise gave him a look until Harry said that he wasn't going to try anything because Merlin forbid Draco quit. 

As he drifted into sleep at two in the morning bunched up in his blankets, he fell asleep thinking about silver eyes and blond hair and rich red wines…

That he of course knew nothing about.