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"Kreacher! Where are my cinnamon buns?"
With a creak of the cupboard, Kreacher appeared next to the kitchen island. "I vanished them, Master Harry." He began mumbling about fresh cinnamon and tinned biscuits as he climbed back into his nest.
Harry swore at the ceiling and sighed. "That was one time, ONE, and I only used the premade biscuits because I was exhausted and Draco wanted to try them." He smiled fondly at the memory of Draco jumping at the cans pop.
"Kreacher, why did you vanish the buns? I just finished the icing."
"Master Draco likes mine better." Slam.
Harry groaned and dropped the bowl of icing on the table. This was getting out of hand.
He startled at a hand on his hip before he was pulled back into a hard twitching member. "Good morning love. Have a good dream?"
Draco purred while rubbing against Harry's arse. "Not that I remember, but I do know those were not regular cinnamon buns."
"Bloody hell." Harry turned around and took in Draco's appearance: flushed complexion, pupils blown, slight perspiration. "Those were Sin-amon buns, weren't they?. Kreacher! We will discuss this later!"
Draco grabbed Harry's hand and dragged him towards the bedroom. The door slammed shut and a sleek arctic fox Patronus appeared to trot off towards Draco's work.
"That's not playing fair," Harry said later, panting and exhausted.
Draco chuckled. "Fair or not, they were amazing."
Harry groaned and pushed up from the bed, then threw a pillow at Draco before pulling on a shirt. "I'm a bloody professional. I didn't attend the French Culinary Institute and struggle to become one of the country's premier pastry chefs just to be outdone by a crusty house-elf who spikes his biscuits!"
He pulled on his jeans, his back to the bed so he couldn't see Draco's expression. The silence, though, was suspect. He whipped around.
Draco was staring, his eyes wide and his lips twitching. And then he burst out laughing. "You're jealous!"
"I'm not. I'm irritated."
"You're jealous that I liked Kreacher's buns more than yours."
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Harry growled, then stalked back to the bed. He crawled over Draco, pushing him back into the pillow and capturing his lips. "That's disgusting," he growled when he pulled back. "Please don't ever compare my buns to Kreacher's, you beast."
"But you are jealous."
"There's nothing to be jealous of. You're mine."
Draco looked pleased with that and watched Harry carefully as he moved around their bedroom. When Harry glanced back, there was a look of calculation in Draco's eyes (that Harry didn't trust one bit).
"What are you planning?"
"I just think that maybe you and Kreacher should have a bake-off. See who comes out on top?"
"And you're going to judge it, I suppose?"
"Well, it'll be a competition to see who can make my favourite puddings. You know, who knows me best and who's a better baker?"
Harry narrowed his eyes. "No magical ingredients and no tricks."
"Deal," Draco agreed, looking entirely too pleased with himself. As well he should, Harry supposed. He was going to have entertainment and all his favourite desserts.
Bloody Slytherins.
Upon arriving home later that evening, Harry was greeted by no less than ten, yes ten, Floo messages asking when and where the competition was going to be. Not to mention a mini-lecture from Hermione about house-elves and a very peculiar message from Minerva. This wasn't exactly what he had in mind when Draco suggested the competition.
He heard the telltale sign of the Floo coming to life and immediately extinguished the connection, locking it for the night; he was not dealing with this right now. Harry left a trail of clothes behind him as he climbed the stairs for a hot shower, leftover flour dotting the floor.
He was just beginning to fantasize about Draco and him this morning when he was interrupted by a loud bang of the door slamming into the wall.
"OY, SCARHEAD! How dare you shut the Floo on me!"
Oh no.
"I didn't know it was you! Ahhhh! Fuck, that's cold!" Harry jumped out of the suddenly freezing water, catching himself on the sink to avoid a slip. He looked up to see Draco red-faced and angry, his wand pointed at the shower. "I'm sorry sweetheart, I didn't know it was you, I swear. Speaking of...who the hell did you tell about this little competition? I came home to ten messages."
Draco's face fell. "I told Pansy. I was grinning like a loon at work and she poked until I told her." Draco sighed. "I didn't realize she was going to tell everyone else."
Harry half smiled and dropped a kiss on Draco's forehead.
"Guess we'll have to figure it out now that the news is out, yeah?"
"I'm still mad at you for locking me out of the Floo. You will have to make it up to me later." Draco flicked his wand and steam returned to the room.
Harry smirked. "How about right now?"
"All right, everyone, take your seats!" A woman's voice echoed through the kitchens.
Harry closed his eyes and shook his head in dismay. Have a little competition, Draco had said. Make my favourite puddings. No big deal.
Right, no big deal. Big deals didn't consist of nearly seventy-five spectators on risers in the Hogwarts kitchens. Big deals didn't have actual hosts of British baking shows narrating the competition. No, this was a huge fucking deal.
He glared at Draco as his boyfriend took the seat of honour, front and centre of the spectators. He'd even dug up Dumbledore's old throne from somewhere in the castle and moved it into place. Minerva, the traitor, sat next to him, her lips twitching at the corner as she caught Harry's gaze.
"The rules are as follows," Sue continued when everyone was settled, tucking her blonde hair behind her ear.
Mel picked up where she left off. "Harry has full use of the right side of the kitchens, Kreacher the left. They each have two house-elves to assist with fetching, cleaning, or chopping, but the actual cooking must be done by the chef in question."
Kreacher looked Harry's way and sneered. Wonderful. He wasn't even aware a house-elf could sneer.
Sue continued. "No magic can go into the preparation or cooking, and that includes ingredients."
That was Harry's cue to throw some taunts towards Kreacher because there would be no aphrodisiacs added to the cinnamon rolls this time. No magical cheats allowed.
"And finally," Mel announced, "they must each make three desserts that they think will be Draco's favourites. Any three sweets will qualify, as long as they fall into the parameters set above. Draco will be the final judge with Professor McGonagall's input, and whoever bakes his number one favourite will be the winner."
Harry grinned at the crowd. He could do this. He'd trained for this. He'd spent years getting to know his boyfriend. He knew all of Draco's weaknesses, and he was prepared to bake his way to a win.
Sue threw Harry a cheeky smile. "Oh, and they only have four hours."
Harry wanted to groan, but instead, he narrowed his eyes at Kreacher.
"Ready…"
"Set…"
"Bake!"
Four fucking hours. Four hours to make a dozen Jaffa Cakes, a Hazelnut Dacquoise, and Tiramisu. But he'd do it.
And he'd win.
Because whatever Kreacher thought, Harry was confident that he knew Draco better than anyone. Kreacher would go for chocolate, most likely, which yes, Draco loved, but Draco also loved the way chocolate played with other flavours. Hazelnut, espresso, orange…
But Harry didn't have time to watch his competition. He needed to concentrate on his own tasks. Mix the dry ingredients, whisk the eggs, measure the sugar…
"You're doing great," Mel said, sidling up beside him. "Mmm, Jaffa Cakes. Good choice."
"Draco has a weak spot for them, but he usually just buys them."
"Ooh, sneaky," she said, grabbing a piece of the orange pulp on the counter and popping it into her mouth. "Oh, Merlin, those are divine."
"Fresh from the tree," he said with a grin. "No magic ingredients, but nobody said I couldn't Portkey to Florida to get my fruit."
She shook her finger at him as she walked away laughing, and he got back to work.
He'd done it. It was four gruelling hours of sweat and mini-catastrophes, but Harry was nearly finished. He was putting the final dredges of cocoa over the top of the Tiramisu when Sue yelled, "Time's up! Step away from your cakes."
Harry finally took the time to look around. His station was a mess of flour, cocoa, sugar, but the house-elves assisting him had kept most of the dishes out of his way. He was ridiculously grateful that he didn't have to clean up after that marathon, and dropped onto his stool.
Kreacher looked a little worse for the wear with what appeared to be spun sugar hanging from the hair in his ears. Harry suppressed a shudder at the thought of it dropping into his desserts.
In front of their audience, Draco now stood waiting, Minerva by his side and muttering something while eyeing Harry's station.
"Kreacher, you first, please," Mel said, and Kreacher snapped his fingers, the desserts disappearing from his table and onto the little table before Draco.
Kreacher's ears twitched, and one of the little sugar drops fell to the ground.
"Master Draco, Kreacher has made you your favourite desserts. Kreacher knows what you like more than any other does."
"Tell me what you made," Draco said, a little smile teasing the corners of his mouth.
Kreacher dropped into a bow, talking to the floor. "Kreacher made Chocolate Lava Cakes, Black Forest Gateau, and Hazelnut Meringue Cake drizzled in chocolate."
"That's a lot of chocolate, Kreacher," Minerva said. "I hope you didn't overdo it."
Kreacher scowled. "Chocolate is Master Draco's favourite."
"Indeed. Well, Draco, will you do the honours?"
Draco cut two pieces of each, and the sounds they made while trying each proved that Kreacher did, in fact, know what he was doing. But they hadn't tried Harry's yet.
Kreacher shot Harry a triumphant smile that would have made a lesser baker cower, but Harry held his head up and levitated his cakes to the table when Sue called him forwards.
"Minerva, Draco, today I've made a Tiramisu, a Hazelnut Dacquoise, and in case you want something a bit lighter, Jaffa Cakes."
Draco's eyes lit up and Harry knew he had him.
"Jaffa Cakes? Truly?" Minerva asked. "How clever."
Draco let out a little hum as he began to cut into each dessert. Minerva took a bite, but Harry had eyes only for Draco.
Draco, whose eyes closed halfway in that way he did when Harry truly brought him pleasure. "Oh, Harry," he murmured, and Minerva cleared her throat.
Taking a bite of a Jaffa Cake, Draco moaned.
"Well, since this is a family show, I think it's time for us to award the winner and leave, wouldn't you agree, Mel?"
"Wait! I want to watch!"
Draco's hand was outstretched, waiting to shake Harry's. "That's all I get?" Harry cried, his body aching for more. "A bloody handshake?"
Draco pulled him close and captured his lips. He tasted of hazelnut and espresso and orange, and Harry practically melted. "You're my favourite dessert," Draco muttered into Harry's lips. "Now grab those Jaffa Cakes and meet me at home. I have plans for you."
Harry grinned and reached for the plate of cakes, barely noticing all their friends filing out of the kitchens. "Does that mean I win?"
"I think it means we both win. And I definitely like your buns better."
"I told you not to compare our buns!" Harry yelled, chasing Draco from the kitchens.
"I think that beats a Hollywood Handshake any day," he heard Mel say as the door closed behind them. And Merlin, wasn't that the truth?