April 19th, 1999 (II).

Ron's strategy was to focus on the food. It wasn't hard: however brief, the walk down the beach had made him cold and tired in a way that called for a warm meal and an early bedtime. The cod tasted nice and so did the potatoes, and he had recently found he'd grown out of his dislike for all things green, though he hadn't said so to Mum, not wanting to give her the satisfaction. The salad had pomegranate seeds in it that looked like tiny rubies, and Ron would just busy himself enjoying those and not engage in conversation, thank you very much.

It wasn't as if there was much conversation to engage in. The shroud of silence over the table gave him the feeling that someone had died. Only Ron had been to a whole lot of wakes and people had actually talked during those.

'So, how's your day been, sir?' Hermione addressed Snape, who had chosen to sit at the opposite end of the table to the three of them, making it seem as though he were having a completely separate meal. If the table had been a proper long one, like the one at Aunt Muriel's house, he would have probably done the same thing and then at least it would have been funny. As it stood, it was just awkward.

'Uneventful,' Snape said, and the conversation was concluded.

A beat of silence later, Harry cleared his throat. 'We went into Whitby, but we came back pretty quickly because of the rain.'

'I hope we didn't disturb you,' Hermione sent Harry a grateful glance. 'We tried not to be too loud.'

'You were unsuccessful,' Snape said without any feeling. 'Fortunately, there are such things as silencing spells.'

'Sorry,' Hermione said meekly. It didn't sound like her at all. Ron hoped it was only that she was tired. He thought maybe she'd been tenser than usual, today, though with Hermione, it was kind of hard to tell.

'We'll have to go try sightseeing again in the summer,' Harry said with forced cheer. 'Oh, do you know what Marnie's told me? Apparently, in the autumn, you can take a boat out and if you go far enough out, you can spot whales.' He turned toward Snape. 'Did you know there were whales here?'

'Did I know there were whales in the North Sea? Yes, Potter, I knew that. Now that you know, too, perhaps you can refrain from playing captain at open sea.'

'There's a guy that does it, obviously, you don't go out on your own. Marnie and Jordan have been, and it was, I think, ten hours, and they got completely soaked, they said.'

Snape grimaced. Ron hated to side with him on this, but he didn't particularly fancy spending ten hours on a boat at open sea. They had big waves there and big waves meant big rocking. 'Couldn't we just fly out and try to spot them from above?' he suggested.

'You're right! We should do that in autumn though. Marnie's said you're unlikely to see them now.'

No one said anything to this, though Hermione looked like she was already thinking of possible excuses. Ron put more salad on his plate. He was nearly done with the cod but there was plenty still on Harry's plate, which meant they were trapped for another five minutes at least. The day had been perfect until now. It had been quiet and slow and sleepy, and they'd all been in one room together with nothing to do. They should have done more of that, he thought, even if it meant going hungry.

'Food's really nice,' he said once the silence had become unbearable again.

'Oh, yes. Thank you, Professor,' Hermione added.

'Yeah, thanks,' Ron grumbled, feeling silly for not thinking of thanking him in the first place.

'Do you suppose that being a Potions Master has helped you become a better cook?' Hermione sounded like she knew it would be obvious to anyone she was grasping at straws, but was determined to push through nonetheless.

'No,' Snape said.

Ron bit his lip in something between amusement and second-hand mortification.

'They're not all that similar, are they?' Harry tried. Ron had to give it to him: out of them all, he sounded the most natural, even as he was talking bullshit. 'I mean, I used to think I'd be good at Potions because I knew how to cook, but that dream ended pretty quickly.'

He said it like a joke, but it wasn't all that funny. The tension in the room, already sizzling, skyrocketed. Ron stared down at his plate, afraid he was going to accidentally make eye contact with Snape, who looked ready to kill.

'Anyway,' Harry said lamely, clearly aware of his mistake. 'I like baking more than I like cooking. What, uh, what about you, Hermione?'

Had anyone ever died of awkwardness, Ron wondered. If they had, maybe Hermione would have read of it.

'I don't know much about it at all,' Hermione's voice pitched high. 'I never really cooked at home. I think the first time I'd tried was when we were, uh, camping out, last year.'

'That explains a lot,' he said, unable to help himself. She sent him a glare. Ron did not feel repentant. How could he, when she'd asked him just today to go on that insane mission with her, when she'd made it clear she wanted him there to help, when he apparently wasn't too boring or useless to be worth her time.

They finished their food in silence. By the time Snape spelled the dishes away, Ron had regained a sense of hope in the future. They had lived through this. They would never be the same again, but they had prevailed. He pushed his chair back to stand.

Then, Snape said, 'Sit. I'll bring dessert,' and hope died.

'I should go help,' Harry told them softly, then scurried to the kitchen after Snape.

Ron and Hermione looked at one another in horror.

'Maybe they'll let us skip it if you say you're dead tired?' he suggested.

'Me? Why me? You tell him you're dead tired.'

'Too tired for dessert? The man's seen me eat in the Great Hall for six years. No way is he gonna believe that.'

The hum of the kettle drifted in from the kitchen, and on its tail voices, tight with frustration.

'—and I don't like you acting like you're my servant all of a sudden,' Harry was saying over the clatter of cutlery. 'I can make tea and I can plate cake fine—'

'Would you like a gold star? Go sit—leave it—'

What came next sounded almost enough like a struggle for Ron to get up, and then something shattered.

'Congratulations,' came a voice, promptly followed by Harry's protest, just before the door drew shut with a thud. Hermione was trying hard to pretend she hadn't heard anything.

A few moments later, Harry and Snape re-emerged. Snape placed the platter of cream puffs on the table with the force of a statement. Harry was carrying the tea and plates. His satisfaction as he poured and set out the cutlery, placing Snape's setting just to his left rather than at the other end of the table, indicated he had won this round.

Ron stirred milk into his tea. The cream puffs looked good at least. He picked up the platter to offer one to Hermione, then made to grab one himself, only for fingers to clamp around his wrist.

He startled so hard he nearly dropped the tray. It angled to the side, the puffs about to slide into Hermione's steaming teacup. With his other hand, he caught them just in time.

He stared at Snape, who released his wrist quickly.

'That one's for Potter,' he said.

'That's okay,' Harry intervened. 'I like raspberry best, but vanilla's good, too.'

For a moment, they were silent. Hermione took a bite of her pastry, eyes fixed resolutely on the table. Harry took a sip of his tea. Ron belatedly thought to put down the tray.

Then, Hermione giggled straight into her puff. At the sound, Harry snorted. His tea came out through his nose.

'For heaven's sake,' Snape threw a napkin at him, but Harry had more interest in laughing, hunched low over his plate so that the tea dripping down his chin wouldn't get on the table. Hermione was laughing, too, like she had never found anything more hilarious in her life, clutching her stomach and gasping for breath. Her puff had fallen apart in her hands, now covered in cream. The sight of her made Harry laugh again, and the sight of him made her laugh again, and they were thus trapped in a loop that wouldn't end until one cramped too hard.

'I think I shall go back to the civilised end of the table,' Snape said, though he didn't move, instead fixing Harry with an overtly serious look that of course only made him laugh harder.

'You mind if I join you?' Ron said, hiding his laugh. 'Some of us would like to enjoy our tea in peace.'

'Of course, Mr Weasley,' Snape said with magnanimity. Hermione was trying to wipe at her tears with the wrist that didn't have cream on it. Harry sounded like he was going to expire at any moment, now folded halfway over Hermione's head as they attempted to find support in one another.

Ron picked up the vanilla cream puff and grinned into his first bite.

This chapter hadn't even been in the outline at all, but then I couldn't not write the awkward dinner scene.

Thank you all for reading. On Thursday, Harry gets a letter and dives into the past for a little while.

Also, I wanted to let you know that Mason Jars is now being posted on AO3 as well as . The chapters will be appearing concurrently both here and there, but if any of you prefer the reading layout on AO3 (as I do), I feel like you should know that is an option - you can find me at /users/gzdacz/pseuds/gzdacz