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“This year, we’re going to learn how to cook,” declared Luna.
“What?” asked Ginny, looking up at her girlfriend with a half-smile and almost falling off the couch in the process. She was browsing through a book of Quidditch stats, lying on her side with her feet propped in Luna’s lap.
“I think we should learn how to cook,” repeated Luna matter-of-factly, her arms resting on Ginny’s feet. She scrunched up her nose. “We can’t depend on your mum’s cooking forever, even if it is quite good.”
Ginny laughed. “I don’t know a thing about cooking, hon. Mum was always trying to teach me, but it never stuck.”
“Exactly!” Luna replied, her eyes lighting up. “We should be learning to be self-sufficient! What if the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks take over and we can’t contact the outside world?”
Giggling, Ginny considered it. “Well, we do have a kitchen now. I suppose it would be a shame not to cook with it.”
Luna beamed at her. “I think I’ll start with my mother’s recipe for Moondew pie. I’ve never had anything quite like it.”
*****
Approximately three months later, neither Luna nor Ginny had done a lick of cooking. Whenever their New Years’ resolution came up in conversation as they were reheating leftovers, Luna would daintily pluck a leaf off her glowing mint plant by the kitchen window, garnish the meal with it, and declare it “cooking.” Ginny was usually too tired after Quidditch practice (as reserve Chaser for the Harpies) to do more than occasionally order takeout, and Luna claimed that editing the Quibbler and looking after twenty-odd wizarding preschool children every morning took all of her creative energy, so in the end, cooking for themselves had fallen by the wayside.
This week was different, though. This week, it was their anniversary, and Luna was determined to surprise Ginny with a full, home-cooked meal. And she knew just the person to help her.
*****
“Luna, dear!” Molly Weasley said in surprise as she opened the front door. The blond-haired witch gave her a cheerful wave, her bracelets clinking merrily against each other. “Come in, come in! To what do I owe this visit, my dear?”
“Well,” said Luna, floating over the threshold and into the Burrow, “I was hoping you would teach me to cook. It’s our anniversary soon, you know, and cooking is one way of showing affection for others.”
Molly, who was still getting used to this strange, phantom-like girl dating her daughter, suddenly felt a burst of warmth towards her. “Of course, dear. I would love to teach you to cook.” She led the way to the kitchen, already preparing recipes in her mind. “I think we’ll start with a nice fish. I have one waiting for dinner right now; I’ll just go and get it.”
*****
Meanwhile, Ginny was having a similar idea. An hour before Quidditch practice began, she left the apartment early to grab coffee with a friend who could hopefully help her out.
“So you see, I won’t really have time that day to make anything, but I want to cook somehow. Luna was really excited about all of this,” Ginny explained.
Tonks leaned back in her chair, setting down her mug of coffee (containing no less than seven spoonfuls of sugar) with a pensive look. Her hair was short and a bright, bubble-gum pink today. “Honestly, Ginny,” she began, “I don’t do much cooking myself. Remus used to do that sort of stuff when we were together, and he still makes Teddy lunch most days.”
“How is Teddy?” Ginny asked, eager for news of him.
Tonks laughed. “Mischievous! He’s started walking, and now I can’t take my eyes off him for a moment.”
“Adorable,” Ginny sighed.
Tonks nodded with a grin before continuing. “Anyways, I usually just use InstaSpell. You can find all kinds of premade meals with that, and it’s much quicker than actually cooking.”
“That sounds perfect for someone who’s never cooked,” laughed Ginny. “Thanks, Tonks.”
“Anytime,” the older witch replied, leaning back in her chair again. This time, she tipped too far, falling over backwards with a yelp.
*****
“I’m home!” called Ginny a few days later, swinging open the apartment door eagerly. She was sore and bruised after hours of practice, but she had showered the mud and grass stains off and changed into a nice pair of jeans and a striped blue-and-orange shirt, ready for a night in with her girlfriend. It was finally their anniversary, and both girls were overjoyed to have the evening to themselves.
“Luna?” Ginny asked, kicking off her boots and walking down the hallway.
“In here!” Luna called from the kitchen. Stepping inside, Ginny coughed and waved at the hazy smoke in the air. An innumerable amount of pots and pans covered every surface, with fruits and vegetables lying around haphazardly. Luna was standing by the stove, frantically whisking a pot of boiling — something — as smoke drifted into the air. Her hair was pulled back in a messy blonde bun, secured with her wand, and there were streaks of paint and glitter on her cheeks from her day at the preschool. She had put on her navy blue skirt with the hand-painted herbology sketches for the occasion, and long earrings made of wine corks dangled from her ears. At the sight of her girlfriend, Luna abandoned the pot on the stove and threw her arms around Ginny.
“Happy anniversary, love,” she cried. Ginny wrapped her arms around her and swept her off her feet, spinning Luna around and laughing, feeling herself get a bit teary-eyed.
“Happy anniversary,” she replied, slowing down and kissing Luna softly. “What happened here?” she asked, looking around the kitchen.
Luna leaned into her embrace and sighed. “I was trying to cook something for you. It didn’t quite turn out.”
Ginny laughed. “It looks like a tornado swept through the room.”
“Or a herd of Blibbering Humdingers,” Luna added dreamily.
Ginny let her head rest on Luna’s. “Thank you, babe. I love that you wanted to cook for me.”
Luna squeezed her and let go, turning back to the stove and stirring her concoction again. “Well, I wanted to make good on our resolution for the year. I even went to your mum for help.”
“You did?” Ginny asked, surprised. “How did she take it when you turned up on her doorstep?”
“Oh, quite well,” Luna said with a smile. “I think she liked that I wanted to learn how to cook. She didn’t know what Moonlace soup was, though. She had me make fish instead.”
Ginny leaned on the counter, scrunching up her nose. “A fish? She knows I hate fish!”
“That’s what I told her,” Luna agreed with a knowing smile. “Apparently you enjoyed it once?”
“I was seven!” exclaimed Ginny, offended, but one look at her girlfriend’s raised eyebrows left her giggling again. “I can’t believe she had you make fish.”
Luna smiled, but then looked at the pot again, a faint frown settling on her face. “I don’t think this one turned out either. I added some root of Angel’s Trumpet, but it might have been too much.”
Ginny sniffed the pot and then cringed. “You may be right.” Seeing Luna’s face fall, she rushed on, adding, “Never mind, though, I have just the thing!” With that, Ginny bounded across the room and down the hall. A moment later, she was back, holding a pasta InstaSpell aloft like a treasured magical artifact.
“It’s a premade meal!” she exclaimed. “Tonks told me about it. Should be easy enough that even we can’t mess it up.” As Luna examined the packaging with a look of mild interest, Ginny swept her flaming red hair up into a tight ponytail.
“Let’s do this.”
Nearly one hour, a barely-successful rescue of the mint plant, and two hasty Aguamenti spells later, the kitchen was still in ruins and the girls had nothing to show for it. The InstaSpell meal had somehow become a charred, blackened heap that seemed thoroughly inedible. The two witches had resorted to lying on the floor and staring at the ceiling in disbelief.
“How did that not work?” Ginny muttered, mostly to herself. “I thought for sure that would work.”
“Maybe it was the Dirigible plums,” whispered Luna. “They’re haunting the kitchen.”
Both girls fell silent for a moment, then—
“Takeout?” asked Ginny.
“Takeout,” agreed Luna gratefully.
Not long after, the two were curled up on their favorite spot on the couch, sharing a box of delivered Muggle food between them. All in all, it was turning out to be a pretty good night.
“I guess we didn’t quite succeed with our New Years’ resolution,” commented Ginny dryly, leaning her head on Luna’s shoulder.
“Well,” Luna replied, looking down at her fondly, “there’s always next year.”
“Yes, I suppose there is,” said Ginny quietly, kissing her, and hoping for many more years to come.