A/N:

Hi, peeps. I've been in the mood to write some Harry/Luna one-shot and I've had this plot bunny stirring in my mind for quite some time now. Was going to originally post this as a complete one-shot but school/work has gotten in the way and I'm not sure when I will be able to do that (plus, still working out some kinks with the story). So, I decided to divide it into two parts and see if you guys like where it's going. I'm not going to spoil much about part 2, but let's just say that wine is involved and the cookbook that Luna borrowed from Mrs. Weasley has... well, some interesting instructions. :]

Anyway, part 2 will be coming regardless of reviews or favorites but reviews are certainly motivational for this girl! Hope you guys enjoy part 1.

Disclaimer: I own nothing at all except my computer.

Cooking With Luna: Part 1

If Harry was certain of one thing, it was this:

Luna was not a chef.

Beautiful? Definitely. Funny? Absolutely. Good with a wand? Wouldn't want to get on her bad side. Terribly intellectual about the strangest things to the point of possible insanity? You got it. The woman had creativity practically oozing of those apple danish earrings, for Merlin's sake. She even beat him outright in an enchanted chess match once, though he swears backwards and forwards that she was doing some kind of occlumency on him, seeing as she managed to properly prepare for every move without thinking about it on her very first try. No, Luna was plenty capable in dubious areas of life. Her cooking skills, however, made themselves known when she managed to set hotdogs on fire because she had put them inside the toaster to make them cook faster (he never should've enchanted that damn toaster). Not to mention the time she attempted to make him one of his favorite muggle meals, Spaghetti and Meatballs, and somehow disintegrated the raw noodles before they had a chance to make it to the boiling water. He didn't bother to ask her what she did to what she claimed to be the meatballs. Instead, he had just sighed, rubbed his eyes under his glasses and laughed to himself before taking her out to dinner. It was easily understood: Luna and cooking simply did not go together.

So, when Luna began telling him at breakfast about how Mrs. Weasley gave her a new cookbook with a recipe that she was interested in making for supper tonight, it was difficult to suspend his apprehension.

"What is it called again?" He asked her with a raised eyebrow, cutting into his pile of waffles and pork links while she examined the tangerine in her hand, sitting cross-legged in her chair.

"'Rosemary Pork-Butt Roast'" She quoted dreamily. "Although, If I were a cow, I think I'd feel rather violated about someone trying to eat my backside..."

Harry snorted into his orange juice. "You mean a pig?"

"Don't be so insensitive, Harry," said Luna, who was now peeling her tangerine with the most extreme carefulness, as if she were cutting the wire to a bomb. "You don't know how many cows out there may feel insecure about their weight."

"I don't think they much care about how much they weigh when we're eating them..." He joked, watching as Luna finished undressing her fruit and was now sectioning them off into sets of two on her plate, and seemed far too distracted to respond to his quip.

"What are you doing?" He asked, eyebrows raised.

"Eating them in pairs, of course. I wouldn't want them to get lonely in my stomach," she answered, speaking with a tone that gently implied this should've been obvious to Harry. "They might get lost. It's much easier to travel with a friend, I think."

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but ended up closing it, smiling at her as she rolled out a pair of chopsticks from inside a tea towel. They locked gazes briefly, Luna sending him a lop-sided grin before they resumed their breakfast, her with her chopsticks and coupled fruit and him with his fork and knife. He could not help but be fond of her flighty nature.

"Well, don't feel too rushed about it," advised Harry, trying to sound as sincere as possible despite his uncertainty towards the idea of her cooking. "You might not have time to go get all those ingredients, with work and all..."

"I already bought them," announced Luna, causing Harry to choke on the last bit of his sausage links. "Are you alright?" She asked, looking concerned as he cleared his throat with a coughing fit. "Yeah, I'm fine, I just - uhh..." He breathed deeply, "you just, you know... you don't have to cook if you don't want to."

Harry swore the air left the room.

"Harry James Potter," she said, emphasizing every word, her face turning cold-stone. Harry felt childish under her offensive stare, blood rushing to his cheeks. "Don't you dare beat around the bush with me. I know I am not the best at cooking, but I truly wish you had a little more faith in me."

Sticking both hands in between his legs and looking guiltily down at his empty plate, Harry felt embarrassed. Who was he to tell Luna what she could do? After all, it was important to her, and if it was important to her then it was important to Harry.

"You're right," confessed Harry, gazing up at her.
"You know what? If you wanna cook, then ... well, you should." He gave her a small smile and, like someone had flipped the switch, Luna returned it with a gleeful grin.

"Oh, Harry," she sang wistfully, jumping from her seat and pulling him into a hug he sat unprepared for.
"You are truly sweeter than any plumberry blifler I've ever met." He didn't think to ask what exactly a plumberry blifler was, but he felt slightly comforted in the fact that she saw him sweeter than whatever it was.
Twirling a piece of wayward hair up and out of her face, Luna stared off dreamily towards the ceiling. "The recipe appears to be particularly easy, so I doubt I will have much trouble. In fact, all you do is put all the ingredients in one big pot and let it cook for you! So simple. Mr. Weasley tells me that Muggles do it all the time in something called a "slow-cooker"... imagine that! Something that cooks your food all day long... I mean, I'm sure it probably gets sleepy at the end of the day, with all the work its doing and whatnot..." She suddenly looked crestfallen. "Oh, but Harry... what if the pots and pans get tired? I wouldn't want to exhaust them. That's sounds like such a cruel act of magic."

Harry chuckled, wiping off his mouth and hands with a napkin before standing up and walking over to her, kissing her on the cheek. "Luna, I'm sure whatever pot you use will be fine. Really, you think too much sometimes," he says gently, taking his wand from his back pocket and magicking their dirty dishes towards the sink to wash themselves.

"Yes, but that's why you like me, I think," she stated matter-of-factly.

He rolled his eyes.

"Well it certainly wasn't because of your cookin - ow!" Luna's dreamy expression never ceased as an apple mysterious threw itself at Harry's shoulder, bouncing off onto the floor. Harry scowled, rubbing his shoulder sorely. "Okay, alright, I deserved that one," he admitted with defeat. "Merlin, keep that up and soon I'll be calling you 'she-who-must-not-be-named'..."

Luna smiled. "Well, as long as I don't have to detach my nose. I rather like smelling things, you know."