#desi finance

[desifemininewoman]

Little Financial Advice

Save. Seriously.

I mean it. College is the perfect time to be a little stingy. Start putting some of your money into savings now. It doesn’t need to be a huge amount, just start. Watching your savings grow will feel so satisfying.

You Don’t Need to Be "Rich" Right Now

I know we tend to feel we need to show that we are so cool and we are rich and we got iphones and papa ke paiso ki car and everything. Do it. Have fun. Spend money a bit irrationally. Buy that super expensive boots that you won't really wear cause they are so uncomfortable. Or that H&m ki dress.

But you know what's the benefit of being in college?

No one expects you to be rich in college. It’s actually socially acceptable to be broke! No one will question you if you say, "I can’t do that, I’m low on cash right now."

Use that excuse religiously. Then put that saved money towards investing on something.

Start Small with Tracking your Spendings

I know you can’t change your spending habits overnight, and that’s okay. So, start by really tracking your expenses. Keep a record of every single rupee you spend. Do this for a month or two and take a look at your patterns.

You’ll start to notice where all that money is going. Trust me—there are always some unnecessary payments and impulse buys creeping in. Understanding your spending habits is the first step in being able to adjust them.

When I started budgeting, these were some of the patterns I found in my spending habits that I knew I could change:

I use to spend a lot on food, especially during exam season. I realized that when I am moody, I spent a lot on chocolates. Plus, I used to do my work last-minute, so I used to see going down to mess from my room as time wasted during my exams. Plus, I don't like the time-consuming process of making food in hostel as much as I love cooking, which is why I would splurge on chips, maggi, chocolates, takeouts, etc.

I used to spent monthly on fast fashion too. This was easily fixable. It was hard but I started saving up on buying good quality clothes.

I used to spent (I still do) a lot with and on my friends. All of us are very kharcheelein people, I would not lie. And when we get together, we come up with crazy ideas and just have to spend money on them. Since we have grown a bit from our first year of college, so spending on drinks, etc is very less now. We also installed Splitwise to keep track of who spends how much.

The point is a lot of our spending is tied to our habits and behaviours. Tracking your money would highlight all these issues and hopefully make you realize where you need to change. All of these issues were easily fixable and with time I did fix them.

Put yourself on budget in the areas where you can

Start putting yourself on a budget, especially in areas like food. For example, I gave myself a strict monthly limit on takeouts—no more, no less. I told myself ki itna hi spend krungi khane per and usse 1rs zyada nahi.

I also knew that controlling my spending with friends was going to be tough, so I chose to set tighter budgets in other areas.

Honestly, there’s no single rule that works for everyone. The 50/30/20 rule sounds great in theory, but for me, it didn’t quite fit the reality of my spending. In college, don’t be too harsh on yourself with your budget—it’s about balance, not perfection.

You know yourself best. Look for the areas where you can make small changes and start there.

If you’re used to spending too much, don’t aim for huge savings right away. Start by saving just 100 rupees a month, and then gradually increase that amount. Setting big goals can make you feel overwhelmed. You might end up feeling bad for not meeting them and then splurge just to make yourself feel better. It’s a cycle you don’t want to get stuck in.

So, start small and build from there. You’ll get there with time.

Use Tools to Help You Track Spending

One game-changer for me was using Splitwise. It helped me and my friends keep track of expenses when we went out. No more confusion about who paid for what or forgetting to pay each other back. Just enter the amount in the app and it does the math for you.

Use Cash Whenever Possible

Try paying in cash instead of UPI. You’ll be surprised how much more you’ll pay attention to your spending when you can physically see the money leaving your wallet. Cash is like a reminder that it's disappearing right in front of you.

Invest, But Start Small

Lastly, invest. I mean, I'd say educate yourself first and then choose how you would want to save your money. I started with Gold Funds and Mutual Funds. And I started small there too. I just started with 100rs going to Gold Fun and 100rs going to Mutual funds. Now, I put 500 monthly to MFs and whenever I get huge payments or any big amount of money, I put 1/3rd of it in MFs too.

The key takeaway: save. That money is yours. The power of compound interest is real—it grows your money over time. And that saved money? It’s your safety net. If you ever mess up or need a quick emergency fund, you’ll have something to fall back on.

Isn't that amazing?

[deeyaacademia]

welcome.

hello, i’m deeya.

i have started this studyblr to document my academic journey to become a chartered accountant one day. i hope you support me, and we build a lovely community xx

i’m seventeen years old and i graduated from high school a few months ago. i have decided to pursue chartered accountancy along with bcom or bcom hons (still not sure).

college will start in fall, and currently i’ll spend my summer working to complete ca foundation.

fav shows: anne with an e, derry girls, suits, supernatural, vampire diaries, brooklyn 99, bojack horseman, stranger things, umbrella academy, gravity falls, and so many more.

fav movies: dead poets society (comfort movie), little women, any 2000s bollywood, any coming-of-age film and anything marvel and star wars!!

fav artists: hozier, lorde, lana del rey, taylor swift, ethel cain, mitski and the cranberries. (i’ll listen to anything, i swear)

fav books: the secret history, the picture of dorian gray, all rick riordan books, the hunger games, a good girl’s guide to murder, the bell jar, harry potter series, the shadowhunter chronicles.

fav writers/poets: dostoyvesky, sylvia plath!!(i love her), oscar wilde, jane austen, mary shelley, and franz kafka.

other fun facts:

i am a big reader, well used to be, but i now i don’t have enough time for it (shameful i know)

i am also an aspiring writer! i am currently working on two novels and i even have an writersgram (shush i’m not disclosing it yet)

i love stories about history, greek mythology, hindu mythology and everything about those.

i speak three languages but i want to learn atleast seven.

i had a huge dark academia phase, and i seriously love greek and latin so much.

i love fangirling over everything & have like 1089211 obsessions that i go crazy about.

i have so many random hobbies i can’t even mention them all (knitting, baking, art, gardening…)

i want to make a short film all by myself and i’m learning more about filmatography.

i am a literature, classics, history girl at my core but i don’t know why i have chosen to study finance, law, business and accounts instead??

my dream is to move out of my hometown (probably to london, it’s my fave city) and buy a little house and have 11 cats.

that’s already too much info about me, i’d love to befriend all of you in the comments, feel free to strike a conversation about anything xx

with love,

deeya.

[greektragedybitch]

i was mopping the house, just mopping the house and suddenly it fucking hit me out of nowhere that i'm actually a legal adult now even tho my birthday was just two days ago hOLY SHIT

[noididnotsignupforthis]

on god, if the government flips and things somehow become worse i will take to the streets.

this entire election is just giving me such a weird emotional strain??? like i am turning 18 this year, this is the country where i have to live in, will get a job in, will roam around the streets, i should have the right to feel safe and i should have the right to support who i want,

india has so many fucking issues and somehow the only thing people focus on is it's caste during voting???

[seashells-and-wind]

Depreciation calculate karte karte ek din meri sanity depreciate ho jaegi

[invsubhojit99]

What do general people buy a stock or a business!

[jhuli009]

[eclecticwordblender]

where are my finbro exes that i collected like pokemons when i really really really could use them to tell me where to invest my money :///

very much like them to show up when i have no need for them and disappear when they could be great help (peak male behaviour actually).

[foundersforge]

Your Gateway to Financial Independence through Entrepreneurship Through Acquisition (ETA)

[finmaestros-official]

Stocks or Mutual Funds?

https://finmaestros.com/should-you-invest-in-stocks-or-mutual-funds/

#finmaestros #investing #stockmarket #moneymanagement #rich #compounding #risk #return #mutualfundssahihai #personalfinance #trending #viral #india #desi #courses #elearning #onlinecourse #business #finance

[correctxgroup]

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[desifemininewoman]

I saw a post of @financeprincess where she gives a list about what she spends on for her self improvement. This post is inspired by her. This is a list of things I spent money on for my self- improvement almost monthly basis:

Hobbies such as crocheting, painting, journalling, music instrument learning, some quick diys, etc

Shopping such as clothes, accessories, beauty products, etc

Dental care, skincare, etc

Investments such as Gold SIP, Mutual Funds and FDs

Health including gym/ yoga classes

Supplements such as protein and prescribed vitamins ( do not take vitamins w/o consultation)

Weekend fun activites such as travelling, events, outing with friends, etc

beauty treatments such as mani pedis, haircuts and blowouts

Not everything listed here is done on every single month but they are frequent throughout the year.

[kj-nanray]

Slowly but surely, home supply has started to improve, so if you've been waiting to make your next investment (aka purchasing a new home), now is the time to act. Let me help you get your financial ducks in a row so you can move swiftly. #thehelpfulagent #buyrealestate #finances #willrogers #happyhomeowners #lasvegas #lasvegasrealtor #housingmarketexpert #realtor #lasvegaslocal #kjnanray #kjnanrayrealtor #kjsellsvegas #desi #desirealtor #northwestvegasrealtor #realestate (at Las Vegas, Nevada) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpDsgTkvkXH/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Secure in your Lap

ft Nanami Kento

a/n: I can't believe I finally wrote thisI So this was inspired by this ask from @sitarawrites. It was supposed to be a cute fluffy fic, but somehow devolved into this angsty piece, so idk. Although I wrote this fic with a desi/asian reader in mind, I think anyone with a difficult relationship with their parents can relate to this, and I hope it comes across that way.

Rating: 13+, nothing explicit or sexual

Warnings: difficult family dynamics, mentions of familial trauma, guilt, manipulation

Pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

Summary: A phone call from reader's mother results in her remembering all the reasons she's grateful for her now fiance.

Word Count: 2343

Nanami masterlist

It’s never a good day when your mother calls. Sometimes you wonder why you put up with it and allow her to test your boundaries, despite setting a schedule that you would not be calling her except for Tuesday and Friday nights.

Even the hour spent on those nights are tedious at best. They never make you feel better; it's all for her. It makes her feel better. And despite the fact that you have graciously made this time for her, she never seems to appreciate it. In fact, most of these conversations are one-sided. You’ll have your headphones in, while she chatters away, as you try to focus on other tasks, like folding laundry, or tidying up the general clutter that always accumulates in the living room, throwing in the occasional ‘uhm hm’ every few minutes so that she knows you’re still on the line.

You’ve learned to tune out most of the conversation because very little of it is ever relevant to you. Unless you hear a few key words such as ‘dad’ or ‘finances’ or ‘house’ you don’t really pay attention to the conversation at all. Because you know how most of these conversations go. They start with her talking about her day, complaining about her job. Then she complains about your dad, despite knowing you’ve heard it all before. Then it devolves into blaming other people for circumstances she’s in right now based on events that happened long ago. 

When all of these topics are exhausted, she gets to her juiciest arsenal; you. Oh, the things she has to say about you, about how you were such a wonderful child, sweet and obedient and how you suddenly became this rough woman who she doesn’t know how to talk to anymore. Or how you’ve stopped visiting of late, that you’re never home for the holidays, and that she blames your boyfriend for this. Then it’s criticism of your life choices, starting with how you moved in with your boyfriend while unmarried, the fact that he’s not from the same ethnic background as you, or the fact that she blames your ‘attitude’ on him because he defends you from her each time. 

Today it was about how you could do so much better than him, and you finally snap. 

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

There’s a moment of silence, then with uncontained glee, she says, “Oh, I’m sorry. Well relationships sometimes don’t work out, it’s ok-”

“Because he asked me to marry him.” You finish bluntly, cutting her off. “He’s not my boyfriend anymore because he’s my fiance.” You wait for the bomb to drop.

“Oh.” Your mother’s voice sounds tight, like it’s been stretched taut between pins on a tacking board. “And when did this happen?”

“He proposed last Sunday.”

“And I’m finding out just now. You really must hate me…”

“Don’t do that,” You warn, keeping your voice deadly calm. You knew if you raised it or gave any signs that her words had affected you, it would give her a rush of satisfaction. “Either you’re happy for us or you’re not. Now which is it?”

“Well, it hardly matters now does it? Although I supposed I should be grateful you’re marrying him after all this time. There’s nasty gossip back in our community…so at least you’ve spared me from the embarrassing idea that you wouldn’t marry a man you’ve been living with like an unprincipled woman.”

“How lovely,” you said through gritted teeth. “Be sure to tell the community I have zero fucks to give them as well.”

“Language…I raised such a proper girl, when did you start saying filth like this?”

“I have to go mom. Your behavior will determine if you’re invited to the wedding or not.”

“You are the type to exclude your mother from your own wedding.I’ve known that for years. So it wouldn’t be that much of a surprise. Anyway, talk to you later…Friday night now?”

She disconnects the call and you sit there in disbelief, heart racing. Every time you stand up for yourself, you know it should feel like a victory but somehow, she manages to even steal that from you. You sigh and rest your head against the back of the car seat.

You had just driven home after a long day’s work and decided that it would be easier to talk to your mom in the car and finish it off since you didn’t want to detract from the peace you feel at home. You feel tears prick the back of your eyes and your throat feels like it’s closing in on itself. 

Why did you let her in on your life? There’s a strange sense of loyalty to her despite her abuse of you. Because despite everything, there are certain things she did which she wouldn’t have done if she hadn’t loved you. Putting you through your degrees, both bachelor’s and master’s. Letting you live at your parent’s house for free when you were in between jobs. Letting you borrow their car to get to job interviews. There’s signs of love there but why did it have to come attached with this emotionally manipulative price tag?

You let yourself cry for a short while, then hold up your left hand to admire the engagement ring your now fiance had picked out. A watery smile breaks out over your face as you look at it. You feel vain when you allow yourself to do this, but you can’t help it. You weren’t really looking at it for it’s monetary value, but more so for what it symbolized; the peace and balance he brought to your life, the maturity your own parents lacked while raising you, and the security that it didn’t matter if you made a bad choice, he’d never make you feel worse about it.

Wiping away your tears, you turn off the car and quickly look at yourself in the mirror. Thankfully your makeup hadn’t smudged much and you could chalk up the tiredness in your eyes as lack of sleep. You take a deep breath before getting out and entering your home. Your fiance was unloading takeout containers from a bag as you entered. He looks up and smiles warmly at you.

“Thought I heard you in the driveway,” he says as he comes over to embrace you, his arms enveloping you with affection. Nanami presses a kiss to your forehead then pulls you in closer, tucking your head under his chin.

You let yourself rest against the warmth of his broad chest, the comfortingly familiar feel of his body relief to the turmoil inside your chest. Resting your cheek on his chest, you close your eyes and breathe in deeply. 

“Y/n? Are you all right?”

Nanami always notices. There’s never a single moment when he’s out of touch with your feelings. He’s learned all the lines in your face, the way your different facial muscles contract or relax depending on how you're feeling. He notices the tension in your shoulders, the slight drop in energy in your step as you walk through the door. Nanami always notices. 

You slowly shake your head no. The flurry of feelings inside you, the hurt, the disappointment, the inability to cut off your mom for good, the overwhelming feeling of being inadequate, a disappointment, churn inside you to the point that you feel like you may never come out of this cyclone feeling like a winner. It’s so complex that you’re not even sure where to begin or how to put it into words. Your thoughts and feelings tangle like a ball of string, knotting into a mess of strands that are impossible to separate. 

“Kento.”

“Yes my love?” His hands run soothingly over your back. 

“I need your lap.”

That was all you could say at the moment. The complexity of everything was too much to bear. Over the years his lap has become a safe space for you. A quiet, designated spot where you could feel everything you wanted to, without any judgment. 

Nanami nodded wordlessly, gently taking your hand and leading you to the couch, sitting down and pulling you on top of his lap. Your feet wrap around his lower back, wedged between the sofa cushions and his body while your head rests on his chest, listening to his breathing and you try to match yours to his, a calming technique you’ve learned over the years.

His large hands play with your hair, stroking it, cupping the back of your head and gently pressing kisses to your forehead. He’s learned over the years that lap sessions meant you were in a state of distress and that it wasn’t his place to force you to talk. You would talk when you’re ready, if at all. 

“Mom?” he asks softly, his voice fluttering through the top of your hair. You merely nod, the thought of explaining it too difficult to even form words. A deep hum of understanding echoes from his chest and you close your eyes at the comforting sound.

Everything about him screamed security. You remember one time breaking a cup while making your morning coffee, the distinct crack of shattering porcelain filling the kitchen. You had flinched, waiting for the tirade of blame and accusations of clumsiness to come at you, only to see Nanami rushing over to you, concern etched all over his face.

“Are you all right? You didn’t get cut?” His words had brought you to tears, that his primary thought had been you and your safety, instead of a very replaceable coffee cup. No one yelling at you for making a mess in the kitchen, or muttering under their breath that you had wasted a usable mug. Nanami had, in a befuddled state, watched as you came to his side, wrapping your arms around him. It wasn’t until 2 weeks after the incident had happened that you had told him what that moment meant to you. 

And now here you were, again, allowing your mom to rob you of the happiness you had worked so hard to build. You're amazed at the patience Nanami has with you, at the way he always reassures you, never letting you forget your worth. That you're more than just your parents’ child. That you are a whole human being on your own, that has the right to live your life without their interference. 

“I don't think I want my parents at our wedding.” The words fall out of your mouth. There's lingering guilt but deep down, you knew it was for the best. 

Nanami adjusts himself on the couch and leans back against the cushions. Most of the time, he leaves handling your parents up to you, despite how much it bothers him that they ruin your mood every time. But there's understanding in his eyes. 

“Not even your dad? I thought you wanted him to give you away.”

“My dad’s an enabler. He'll never come if I don't invite my mom. Besides,” you inhale deeply and continue, “The only person worthy of giving me away is myself.” You gaze into his warm brown eyes, feeling proud that you had come this far. This would be your achievement today. That you were able to say these words and believe them. 

“That’s so very true sweetheart.” He gives you a reassuring squeeze. “Look at you, remembering your affirmations.”

Although it’s not much, you still feel yourself glowing at his praise. Growth on your end. “Besides, if they got involved, they’d hijack all the planning, blow it up into a grand ceremony even though that’s not what we want. It’s just easier without them.”

“Anything you want.” He brushes his lips against your hair.

“No, not anything I want. It’s your wedding too. I’d be ok if you wanted a ceremony. I imagine there’s lots of people you’d want to invite. I just won’t be inviting anyone from my side. Except for my best friend.”

He grasps your chin between his fingers and with sincerity asks you, “How did you imagine it?”

You consider this for a second. Previously, you had imagined the typical traditional wedding that people of your background were expected to have. But the image has been fading lately, and now, unburdened from your parents’ expectations, your mind immediately creates a picture.

“I want to do it at the beach. Just…no expectations, no one grumbling about how we skimped on decorations or other unnecessary things like flowers. I want…to walk down towards you on the sand, barefoot. Feel the ocean breeze on my face. There’s a small group of guests. Very minimalistic.”

He looks like he’s considering it for a moment but his expression doesn’t show signs of objection. “We could do that. Small wedding, intimate ceremony.”

“Really?” You look at him with love in your eyes.

“Really. I think all the people I want to invite would easily fit into this setting.”

You lean forward and wrap your arms around him tightly. There were simply no words to express how grateful you are for him, for his presence in your life. That you could actually be a family, just the two of you.  You lean back to take in all of him, just sitting serenely on the couch, in this shared space the both of you called home now. 

“Thank you, Kento.” You say quietly. You know it’s unnecessary, that his love is so very unconditional, no emotional price tags attached. “I know I’m not the easiest to love sometimes.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He draws you tightly to his chest. “It’s so easy to love you. Because every small thing you do is filled with love and consideration. Thoughtfulness. Emotion. And that’s enough. You don’t have to be more than that.”

Your heart swells as you hear his words, the only person to ever really understand just how much you needed to know those things. 

“I’m enough.” You whisper softly, still on his lap, resting comfortably in his embrace. You rest your head on his shoulder, eyes closing.

I’m enough…

all banners and dividers by @cafekitsune

[gacha-incels]

@frozenemus I want to eventually do a larger and much more researched post regarding misogynist men who are drawn to these types of games: socially, psychologically, financially and historically especially in South Korea. I don’t want to wait that long to reply here so I’ll let you know my thoughts so far which are by no means going to be a comprehensive look at everything.

Yes, I think these games pander to what this type of man already believes about women and this is why they will flock to them. The “gacha game” medium comforts him with the always-available cartoon woman who can literally be “won” (not through confusing things like treating them with respect but rather money),will never leave (until EoS), obeys all his orders (through gameplay), and always looks perfect (because she is drawn that way).

I believe these games and in effect all mainstream pop/entertainment media (among other things) serve to uphold the status quo in one way or another. This is not a phenomenon unique to gacha games themselves. Media like this can have a significant affect on its population, which is why you will see the US military finance so many films, tv shows and videogames. I don’t think any singular pop media can do something as drastic as completely change a population’s opinion regarding an issue, but rather it can flatter its audience by showing them an easy lie rather than confront an uncomfortable truth, which in turn serves to solidify certain concepts in a society. This media often reflects back onto the consumer a stereotype or dichotomy they feel safe with, which in turn creates a kind of feedback loop of comfortable falsity that becomes enshrined as truth. This can be something as seemingly benign as replacing an actual eagle’s cry with that of a hawk’s because that’s what the audience “expects to hear” or more sinisterly the “third world filter” used in many North American productions when showing scenes in a country viewers “expect” to be in poverty. There’s been a lot written within the past couple years regarding “copaganda” entertainment which exemplifies a lot of this type of thing. Similarly I believe it’s been studied that when in times of big changes or economy crashes, more sequel movies will be made and toy store aisles will have an extremely stark divide between “boy’s toys” and “girl’s toys”. It’s in part to comfort the society that fears the unknown future with both saccharine nostalgia and familiar dichotomies with clear and dividing gender roles to fit into. You don’t have to think or be worried- it’s all been decided already so just get in the box.

The medium of “gacha game” itself I believe is the first thing that should be considered- the first message conveyed to the consumer is what medium the “artist” chooses to tell their story. In a whole host of ways, interacting with a book is different than a play which is different than a movie, etc. You can find, for instance, older books where directors write about the need to recognize and utilize the unique facets of film to get meaning across rather than fall back on the familiar and easy stageplay of the theater. Off the top of my head, I think Tarkovsky, Cocteau and Maya Deren have written about it in their books, and a more contemporary book I especially liked was Doug Aitken’s “Broken Screen” interviews. Anyway you’ve probably read or heard of Marshall McLuhan’s “the medium is the massage”(message), it’s something I would like to elaborate on in a future post so I won’t get into it now. The most unique aspect of the “gacha game” is gambling and often spending large quantities of money for in-game anime style characters to play as/command. Like I said in the last post, these games ride or die on high spenders dropping cash to max these characters out. EVERYTHING about the game must cater to this consumer first and any “artistic intent” will be filtered through the expectations of these customers. None of the story beats or, more importantly, character designs can afford to offend the gacha gamer. Artistic intent and concepts are neutered simply by the medium itself- sorry but this is why I find it ridiculous to see so many people venerating Arknights and Limbus Company as making some incredibly progressive statements regarding capitalism or feminism. It is antithetical to the very medium with which they chose to tell their “stories”, especially when the companies can tell their incel playerbase “don’t worry, we fired that nasty female artist! this game is just fantasy, no need to think about real life atrocities or those hateful feminists.” This gives these men the ego boost they want and imbues them with a sense of power, especially over women who they frequently get fired. Even this is part of gacha games- the power these men get to control a real woman’s financial fate and to make a company publicly refer to feminism as a hate movement. What does this tell you about their intended audience? This is getting long so I’ll make another short post regarding some character design specifics. Hopefully this somewhat could answer your question lol

[oflights]

hi allie! i love all your fics and for the prompt request i would really like something in the make this leap universe. anything, really but if it could involve more food making by draco i’d be really happy. i love food and cooking and that fic is probably one of my favorites ever. but again, it can be whatever you feel live writing! thank you!

hi!! i'm so sorry this took forever; i've started this a few different times and just never quite got going with it. i started writing this version in my head during jury duty today, though, so i was excited to get it down when i got home!!

this is 1.2k words (😭 it's not funny anymore!) of extremely sappy, domestic married fluff in the Make This Leap universe. enjoy!!

Draco finds the cookbook when he’s digging around in the Potter vault for Harry’s birthday.

Shared access to vaults hadn’t gone unmentioned when they’d first married—there were some tender memories there for Draco in particular. But they’d been successful business partners first, already mingling finances, and Harry had been very cheerful and upfront about it: “What’s mine is yours, but most of the good stuff went into the restaurant that burned down, so there’s not much there.”

Beyond gold, which Draco is lucky and successful enough to not have to care about, the Potter vault does have some interesting items that Harry had seemed to lack the emotional wherewithal to really catalog. Draco doesn’t blame him, has never pushed it, and thought it rather lucky as he was considering Harry’s birthday present. The plan was to find some heirloom he could restore, to tell him that if he ever wants to find the emotional wherewithal, Draco will be there to support him.

He finds the cookbook instead.

A good portion of it isn’t in English, which is exciting—Draco loves getting to mess about with Translation Charms—and Draco lacks cultural context for much of it, utterly unable to relate to generations of an immigrant family trying to keep traditions alive through food as much as possible even through countless changes. He still pores over it eagerly, captivated by notes in English in some of the later recipes, itching to try some.

He doesn’t know if he can get an actual birthday present out of this or if it’s just a cooking project he wants to nerd out about, but he tells himself the goal is the former to justify the latter. He stays late a few nights at the restaurant, practicing some of the simpler recipes, realizing he has no idea what he’s doing and if he’s doing anything right at the same time he realizes he doesn’t care, is just having a good time experimenting.

He feeds only some of it to Harry, not telling him what he’s doing or where the recipes are coming from, just telling him he’s trying new things and is charmed by all the vegetarian options. Harry also lacks cultural context, which is demonstrably more tragic, and Draco stops feeding him the experiments the more that tragedy reveals itself. Instead, he starts asking around for help.

In the past, Draco’s learned French cooking in France, Italian cooking in Italy, Eastern European cooking in Eastern Europe, Cambodian cooking in Cambodia—but he can’t exactly hop over to modern day Pakistan for lessons without his husband knowing about it. So he puts feelers out through his network of chefs with what turns out to be a very heartwarming story: he wants to cook the food in this cookbook for his half-Desi husband, and he has no idea what he’s doing.

It gains some traction—fucking Sebastian Quantrill has the nerve to write Draco about doing a story for it when he catches wind, resulting in some extremely colorful threats amidst his denial should Harry find out before Draco’s ready; Sebastian writes back that this is usually the point where Harry threatens to obliviate him, to which Draco responds that obliviate is the least of Sebastian’s worries from Draco, and after that doesn’t hear another word from him—and it takes time, as these things do.

But eventually Draco manages to schedule a few lessons a week with a retired chef through her daughter, who has to translate for them. The chef, a tiny Pakistani woman named Maryam who isn’t taller than Draco’s shoulder and calls him a name her daughter refuses to translate every time he asks for measurements of something, had run a hole-in-the-wall takeaway place straddling the Muggle and magical world for years with her husband, closing it up only when he’d passed.

Draco loves her immediately, and thinks the eventual real birthday present might be introducing her to Harry. Cooking with her is a genuine joy, reveling in the way she shoves him out of her path and laughs at his failed attempts at perfecting his puri after professing to be excellent at flatbreads.

They’re some of the best cooking lessons he’s ever had, if only because one of the conclusions he comes to is that he’ll never be good at this the way Maryam is, and that all he can do is give it a good enough try. “That’s what love is,” she tells him through her daughter, who is tearing up a bit. “A good enough try. As good as you can give.”

It’s the sort of lesson Draco wishes he could’ve had when he was younger, throwing himself into being the best chef he could possibly be because it felt like the only way to be as different as he possibly could be from the kid he’d been growing up.

Draco is a chef, though, so he cooks up what he thinks is a good enough try for Harry’s birthday breakfast: halwa puri (with his best puri yet, starting at sun-up to get it right) with a potato and chickpea curry he’d gotten as close to perfect as possible. These were the recipes with the most notes in English in the cookbook, the most described failures to learn from, so Draco’s excited.

Harry lights up when he comes downstairs, and Draco’s heart swells—Harry’s enthusiasm for his cooking hasn’t faded in all these years, and Draco just loves him for it. “This is all—” Harry starts, sitting down and studying dishes, blinking a bit as Draco whips out the cookbook and drops it carefully in front of him.

“The recipes are from this,” Draco says, dragging his seat around to Harry’s side of the table and leaning over the book to show him the right pages. “I took some lessons—”

“Draco,” Harry says, his voice a little wet. Draco ducks a grin into Harry’s shoulder; he loves his sappy husband who gets weepier as they age.

“Shut up, I had no idea what I was doing. I’ll introduce you to my teacher, you’ll love her—but these are fundamentally family recipes. She could teach you too, if you want, we could do it together, and use this—”

“This is my mum’s handwriting,” Harry says in wonder, looking down at some of the scribbled English notes. Draco’s eyes widen, feeling a little silly that this had never occurred to him, and he gives a short laugh.

“Well, great minds, then.”

“Wait—that bit’s my dad’s, I think.” Harry squints down at it, Draco leaning over to join him in squinting, his own reading glasses stubbornly abandoned on the bedside table for the sake of vanity.

“I should’ve known; it’s barely legible, like yours.”

“They cooked together, too,” Harry says. He looks up with a sniff, catches Draco squinting, kisses his crinkled brow and whispers “Accio Draco’s reading glasses. You vain git.”

“Nice, that’s nice—after I cooked you this amazing breakfast—”

“You’re amazing,” Harry tells him, shaking his head. “You’re—you took lessons.”

“I wanted to get it right!”

“You’re a professional chef!”

“I’m whiter than snow—” His glasses smack him in the side of the head, then, making Harry burst out laughing, making Draco join in, warm and in their kitchen, a good enough try spread out on their table.