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Dolche Vida by ariellem
Chapter 2 : Lucky Frogs
 
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 14


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awesome-sauce CI by ledgerlover @TDA

 

When something good happens to me I go shopping, when something bad happens to me I go shopping, thankfully today something good happened and I would have gone shopping today but then I remembered what my Gringotts account looked like.

So I settled on a burger from a muggle fast food restaurant instead.

I came home to find the apartment dark, Parvarti had apparently already left for her work, and the only thing there was a pigeon sitting on the windowsill.

And after I had gotten my binoculars and looked around, I learned that not even cute naked guy and the collage boys were home.

So I settled on eating my lunch and reading the new issue of Magic, where it proclaimed it loud letters that Hermione Granger was pregnant with Draco Malfoy’s child.

The strange things people think of these days.

6:00 that night;

“Guess what happened!” I yelled as soon as Parvarti walked through the door.

Parvarti jumped ten feet and dropped her bag. When she calmed herself she gave me a dirty look. “Don’t ever do that to me again, you scared the CRAP out of me.”

“But I got a job!” I protested slightly quieter. “And there’s a giant poster of the lead singer of the Weird Sisters lead singer…shirtless!”

“Oh! Gimme,” said Parvarti grabbing the magazine from my hands. “Now let’s hear more about this job.”

“Well it’s at Finnigan’s bakery—”

“The one that Seamus’s family owns or something?” Parvarti asked.

“Yeah I guess, I told them about my painting and that I can cook—”

“But you can’t cook,” said Parvarti looking confused.

“Yeah I can,” I protested.

“Sandwiches sure, but not cookies and stuff.”

“What are you talking about Parvarti?” I asked, giving her an annoyed look. “You’re the one who told me I made top-notch cupcakes.”

Parvarti’s look of confusion vanished and was replaced by one of horror.

“You mean that time in fifth year?” Parvarti asked.

“Yeah, remember? I can cook and—why are you shaking your head?”

“Lavender, I lied,” said Parvarti, giving me a look of pity.

“So my cupcakes weren’t top-notch?”

“No, in fact they tasted like what I would imagine a car tire to taste like.”

“Thanks Parvarti, thanks a lot, I’m supposed to start work tomorrow now what am I supposed to do?”

Parvarti shrugged. “Look Lavender, I’m sorry but—”

“Wait, we have cookbooks!” I said, jumping out of my chair, and rifling though the cupboards to find them. “I can learn now!”

“I guess,” said Parvarti looking wary. “But what if you burn down the apartment?”

“I gave her a look. I won’t, come on Patel. Its cupcakes not rocket science, plus we can always blame that heater that the landlord never fixed.”

“Alright,” said Parvarti, shrugging. “I’ll go get you some ingredients; I hope this works out for you Lav.”

“Oh it will,” I said as I got out the mixing bowls and spoons. “I’ll make it work.”

An hour later;

Lavender Brown’s cupcakes as judged by Parvarti Patel.

Batch 1: Car tire.

Batch 2: Bull vomit.

Batch 3: Cat hairballs.

Batch 4: I can’t stop eating this because it just tastes so awful.

Batch 5: Dead grandma.

Batch 6: Unfortunately Patel couldn’t judge this cupcake as she had to run to the bathroom and puke her guts out.

“You could be a little nicer,” I said mixing another batter while I read what Parvarti had written down. “Now try this batter.”

Batch 6’s batter: Blended rats.

“What?” Parvarti asked defensively when I gave her a look, it’s better than dead grandma. “You know in some places rat is a delicacy?”

That was when I took a spoonful of the batter and put it in her hair.

Batch 7: It’s burned so that covers the taste of chopped hamster liver.

“Alright,” said Parvati stifling a yawn. “That’s it, I’m too tired and too full to eat any more cupcakes.”

“No! You can’t!” I said desperately, shoving a cup of coffee in front of her. “You have to stay up and help me, because technically this is your fault.”

“It’s my fault you can’t cook?” Parvati asked giving me a look. “I’m sorry that I didn’t want to hurt your feelings in our fifth year, which may I remind you, was like seven years ago. But you can’t pin this one on me.”

“Please Parvati,” I pleaded, now on my knees, dignity be damned. “What am I supposed to do?”

“You could judge them yourself,” suggested Parvati sarcastically.

“You know I’m biased Parvati,” I protested. “I thought Weasley was a great Quidditch player, because I liked him! I need someone who is cruelly honest! Someone that doesn’t care about other people’s feelings! Someone who can destroy other persons hope and dreams without thinking twice!”

Parvati gave me a look. “How much coffee have you been drinking Lav?”

“Just six cups, why?”

Parvati sighed. “Look make the batches, I’ll taste them tomorrow morning.”

“Fine,” I said cracking another two eggs and whisking them.

Three am next morning:

I woke up to the sound of howling cats, apparently somewhere around batch sixteen I had fallen asleep which resulted in the batter in my hair.

“Well batch fifteen isn’t bad,” said Parvati, who was sitting across from me eating. A little crisp but not bad.

“You’re up?” I asked sleepily.

“Yes, those bloody cats are having show choir practice again,” grumbled Parvati taking another cupcake. “Go back to sleep Lav, I’ll wake you up in an hour and you can go back to cooking.”

Before I fell asleep I heard Parvati mumble her plans to kill those cats.

Five thirty next morning:

“YOU DIDN’T WAKE ME UP!” I screeched when I took a look at the clock. “PARVATI!”

The loyal best friend in question jerked awake and answered with an “ngh.”

“Ngh is right!” I answered jerking to my feet. “I have to go to work in an hour and a half and I STILL CAN’T COOK CUPCAKES!”

“Look Lavender—”

“Don’t you look Lavender me Parvati, if the head healer needed you to stay up all night and watch a patient so he didn’t die from blood pressure WOULD YOU FALL ASLEEP?”

“No,” answered Parvati, giving me a strange look.

“This is ten times bigger than that,” I said holding my arms apart as far as they would go just to show her just how big it was.

Parvati shook her head but didn’t say anything.

“You better hope that my lucky frog bra works!” I called to her as I headed towards my bedroom.

Ever since I was sixteen I have had a lucky bra (yes, I have the same bra size that I had when I was sixteen), it’s covered in frogs with pink bows in their hair. Padma got it for me as a joke but good things started to happen to me when I wore it.

1. I got my first boyfriend.

2. I got accepted into the Wizarding School of art.

3. I got a pet bunny.

And other stuff, you may think I am being weird, but believe me this is fact. Now all I need is for my lucky frog bra to work its magic on my cupcakes. I’m not asking for them to be award-winning or anything, just decent.

By the time I had reached the bakery, it was only six, and because none of the other shops were open, I ended up sitting on the bakery steps, waiting for one of the Mrs. Finnigans to show up. I didn’t have long to wait though.

Mrs. Finnigan was the first one there, she quickly indicated for me to follow her to the back, where she wheeled up a ramp that I guessed had been built for her.

“You can start on the cupcakes,” she told me, leaning over to brake her chair. “I need at least two dozen before Andrea opens the store up, that’ll be eight in each flavor, when they’re done you can use the icings over there to decorate them, Andrea said you went to art school so surprise me.”

And with that she wheeled away, I felt petrified, if I didn’t get these cupcakes right then there was no way Parvarti and I would be able to stay in that apartment, and if we didn’t stay in that apartment then we would have to move back in with my parents.

Where there were no cute guys.

Feeling motivated, I selected the ingredients and began adding them into a giant mixing bowl I had found.

“I’m going to go sweep up things in the front,” Mrs. Finnigan told me as she wheeled past. “And wear an apron for crying out loud!”

I grabbed an apron from one of the hooks and went back to mixing, before long though I heard someone clumping on the stairs that lead to the apartments above the building.

A robber?

A giant cat?

“Ma! Have you seen my broomstick?” yelled what sounded like a boy.

A cute boy?!

I looked around for the broomstick and spotted one beside the aprons. “Oi! It’s down here!” I yelled.

Boys like girls with flour down their front, right?

I turned around just as the guy who had been yelling for his broomstick came downstairs. The guy standing in front of me was extremely muscular, he had one scar going from the middle of his chest to the waistband of his boxers and another more faded one his cheek.

I was jealous of the healer who took care of him.

He had messy brown hair, and blue eyes that would make even Parvati swoon.

I think I’m in love. I’m so glad I started working here, by just looking at this guy I’m making up for all those years that I was single.

“Brown?” the guy asked in shock.

I’m no longer in love that was the chocolate powder talking. You want to know how I’m no longer in love, because I recognize the guy standing in front of me.

Seamus Finnigan.

Not that I didn’t expect to see him here, I mean it’s his family’s bakery. I just didn’t expect to see him on my first freaking day.

I can’t believe he still lives with his parents. What a loser.

Seamus and I went to Yule ball together, but believe me that didn’t end well. He didn’t want to dance and instead spent the entire time ignoring me and trading chocolate frog cards with Dean Thomas. Unlike Parvati who got to dance with a hot French guy (and they went on dates later!) I was a little chunky in my fourth year and I was stuck sitting there.

Basically he just thought that he’d ask the fat girl out, and she’d be so thrilled that she got to go that she wouldn’t care if he never said two words to her. Rat Bastard.

Anyway back to my point, I don’t like Seamus Finnigan, end of story, goodbye, and I lived happily ever after.

“Finnigan,” I said coolly as I cracked two eggs.

“You’re the new girl?” he sounded baffled.

“It would seem that way wouldn’t it?”

Then I realized that I had accidently cracked the eggs over the counter and not the bowl, I swore quietly and cleaned up the mess.

For the record I was not just distracted by Seamus’s abs.

Seamus went off in peals of very unmanly giggles, there are days when I really want to hurt this guy. “But…you…can’t…cook!” Seamus said between gasps for air. “You suck!”

“I can too cook,” I protested, crushing the third egg in my hand. “I can cook cupcakes!”

Unfortunately we don’t know if this is true yet, but Seamus doesn’t need to know that yet.

“You know Parvati was lying right?” Seamus asked, grinning at my misfortune.

“How do you know I haven’t improved?” I said haughtily.

I’ll admit I was grasping at straws here, but I needed this job.

“Fine,” conceded Seamus. “I’ll sit here and taste the cupcakes once you’re done, and if they’re good, I’ll admit I was wrong.”

“I’m sure all you’ll taste is humble pie,” I said as I stirred the batter.

“I thought you were making cupcakes,” Seamus said looking confused. Merlin this boy is so stupid.

“It’s a muggle saying, you wouldn’t understand,” I said snootily. “Just be ready.”

Seamus shrugged and sat down on one of the bags of flour that were beside the counter, he leaned against the wall and put his hands behind his head. “I await your cupcakes.”

Even though Seamus Finnigan is a jerk I will admit he has really great forearms, they’re almost distracting me.

Almost.

Then Seamus caught me looking and winked, I scowled back at him, my face now bright red.

The first cupcakes to come out were the chocolate ones, they looked alright, not too burned and yet not to moist. I burned my hands trying to take out one of them, but Seamus just leaned and took one.

I tried to look as if I didn’t care what he thought about them as I mixed the batter for the vanilla ones, but secretly I crossed my fingers behind the mixing bowl.

Seamus took a bite, chewed a bit, swallowed, and then nodded his head. “It’s really good!” he proclaimed. “Not bad at all.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re a boy, and boys are human garbage cans,” I grumbled, but secretly I was quite proud of myself. I knew that my lucky frog bra would work.

“No, seriously,” said Seamus. “I grew up with my mum’s and grandmum’s cooking, so I think I know what I’m talking about.” He reached for another but I slapped his hand.

He grinned and winked at me again, this time instead of glaring, I grinned back. Maybe Seamus Finnigan wasn’t half bad.

“Seamus?” I heard a woman’s voice say. “Seamus?” Then suddenly right beside Seamus a gorgeous, tall, leggy, brunette, wearing nothing but a Cannon’s shirt appeared. She gave me a mocking look, and placed her hand on Seamus’s shoulder.

Apparently the lucky frog bra only works once a day.


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