Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all Harry Potter content, I own none
Chapter 12
"What's next?" Hermione asked. Her face held an expression of fierce determination, and her eyes were locked onto the book in front of her. Her hands gripped the edge of the table hard enough to turn her knuckles white, and she stood perfectly still as she analyzed her page. She emitted an aura of such seriousness she rivaled Minerva McGonagall.
"Combine the eggs, sugars, and butter in the mixer." Harry responded, not even looking in her direction. He was carefully measuring out salt and baking powder for his best friend to add to their concoction.
"How do you even – ugh, you're right. Okay, let's do it." Hermione sighed, lifting her eyes from the cookbook and walking over to Harry. He smiled at her, but quickly looked away at the resoluteness of her expression.
The two were in the kitchen of the Granger residence, a place where they'd spent an increasing amount of time since their adventure in the Forest of Dean. Harry had been introducing Hermione to the art of cooking for the past couple of weeks, starting with simple recipes like cheese toasties on a relatively dreary day that seemed like the perfect occasion for a simple hot sandwich.
It took ten agonizing minutes for the smoke detector to stop beeping, so Harry opted to let Hermione observe him first, then try on her own rather than him verbally explain the instructions and then give her free reign of the kitchen. Once this new strategy was implemented, Hermione gradually became more comfortable when it came to preparing food. After she made an incident-free grilled cheese, they moved on to a variety of recipes of increasing complexity.
Today, however, was a monumental day for Hermione. It was her first attempt at baking. Harry had decided on chocolate chip cookies, a simple recipe, but one that required lots of precision and attention. He figured Hermione would be a natural at baking considering her brilliance in Potions class, but after she managed to set a piece of bread on fire a couple weeks ago he lowered his expectations quite a bit.
Currently, Hermione was observing the contents of the Grangers' electric mixer with profound intensity, as if she were having a staring contest with it. "How long?" She asked Harry without moving her eyes.
"Until they're just about combined." He responded.
"What does that mean?"
"See, right now, they're separated. But as they continue to mix, they'll get more and more combined, until they're almost in harmony."
"Well, 'in harmony' does nothing for me, Harry. What will it look like?"
"You'll know what harmony looks like."
Hermione rolled her eyes, knowing she wasn't going to get a definitive answer. Harry smiled internally. He liked the feeling of being a teacher, providing all kinds of feedback and coaching his friend through her struggles. And, of course, he enjoyed being cryptic when possible. After all, Hermione had spent months refusing to write his essays, instead offering vague advice while claiming it was better for him.
'Oh how the tables have turned…' He thought to himself. Hermione suddenly stood up straight, her hand flying to the mixer to turn it off. She peered at the golden-brown contents and turned to Harry expectantly.
"Did I do it right?" She asked pleadingly.
"It's perfect." Harry grinned, turning to meet her eyes. "Now, you know what to do next?"
"Whisk the dry ingredients, and…" She trailed off, closing her eyes as she tried to remember the words on the page. Harry saw her eyebrows scrunch together in deep concentration, her nose twitching slightly. She turned to look at the recipe, but Harry grabbed her arm.
"You know the answer." He offered gently.
Hermione sighed again. "Whisk the dry ingredients, and…add the vanilla to the mixer?" She asked uncertainly.
"And?"
"There's more?"
"Blimey Hermione, use your head. After adding the vanilla you'll have used every ingredient on the list. Which means…" He tilted his head forward expectantly.
"Which means we add the dry ingredients to the mixer! Because there's nothing left to add!" She exclaimed triumphantly. Harry nodded, and stepped back to let her get to work.
Ten minutes later, Hermione was gingerly sliding a tray of cookie dough gobs into the oven. She closed the door and stood to look at Harry.
"Did I do it right?"
"Is the tray inside the oven?"
"Harry, come on, you know I'm nervous!"
"You shouldn't be. You did great!" He smiled. "Now it's time for my favorite part."
"What's that?"
"There should be a measuring cup over on that table, can you go grab it?" He asked, barely subduing his smirk. Hermione nodded eagerly and turned, marching over to the kitchen table.
"Harry, there's nothing here." She stood confused, hands on her hips as she surveyed the table in front of her. The only thing on the otherwise bare surface was the cookbook they'd been using, still flipped open to the chocolate chip cookie recipe. Harry, barely listening, was tiptoeing behind Hermione as quietly as possible, picking up a pinch of flour along the way. His smirk had grown into a full-blown mischievous grin. He crept up until he was within striking distance of his brown-eyed friend.
"No hard feelings, right?" He whispered. Hermione jumped and turned her head to ask what he was talking about, only to have the entire right side of her face and hair coated in a fine white powder.
"Harry Potter!" She coughed, rounding on him. She was hacking up a lung, but her eyes were laced with fury and embarrassment as Harry cackled at his friend's makeover. Her narrowed eyes only made him laugh harder. "You'll pay for that!" She growled once she could breathe, but she was obviously still flustered. Harry was doubled over, with his hands on his knees and tears streaming down his face from laughing harder than he'd ever laughed before. He saw Hermione look around in shock out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't see her reach for the nearest ingredient.
CRACK
A cold liquid spread across his scalp, sending shivers down his spine. He whipped his head up, sending white shards flying across his field of vision. Shards that looked suspiciously like eggshells. He physically cringed as he realized what his friend had done in retaliation, earning a small burst of laughter from Hermione.
"Hey, mine was funny! This is just gross!" He complained, gingerly laying a hand across his scalp. He pulled it away to reveal more eggshells and egg whites sticking to his hand. He turned to Hermione, whose cheeks were burning red, her lips curled into a sheepish grin.
"You started it…" She whispered, before breaking into a fit of laughter at her friend's defeated look. "I'm sorry, Harry." She managed once she stopped laughing. "But look at my hair! I'll need to wash this out for hours…" She sighed distraughtly, pulling locks of her bushy brown mane in front of her eyes and grimacing at the flour scattered across them.
"Yeah, you're right, that does make me feel better." Harry chuckled, the mischievous smirk returning to his face. Hermione smacked him on the shoulder with mock disdain.
"That's not what I meant and you know it!" She sighed, before breaking into a giggle of her own. "At least you look ridiculous too…"
Harry sighed, still smirking in satisfaction. He grabbed a roll of paper towels and tried in vain to tidy up his even messier than usual hair. Hermione wiped off her face but didn't even attempt to fix her hair. The two sat in smug silence as they cleaned themselves, until a sharp DING of the oven signaled that the cookies were finished.
Hermione eagerly pulled out the tray and laid them next to the tray of cookies Harry had made to demonstrate before Hermione tried the recipe on her own.
"Mine look so much worse…"
"Hermione, they're literally identical."
"That one's all smushed, I've ruined it…"
"I think it looks cute."
"You don't even know which one I'm talking about."
"I'm sure whichever one you erroneously claim to find ugly will actually be the tastiest one of the lot. That's usually how baking goes, anyway." Harry explained, eliciting a small smile from Hermione. He turned to her, feeling his heart swell with pride. "You did it, Hermione. You baked something. Something…" Harry trailed off as he picked up one of the cookies. "…delicious!" He grinned as he took a bite.
Hermione's cheeks were turning pink, but she turned back to her tray of cookies and beamed with self-satisfaction. "I did it." She said in a small voice, mostly to herself.
The pair quickly transferred the two dozen cookies from the trays to a plate and plopped themselves at the kitchen table across from each other. Hermione poured them two big glasses of milk, and they feasted with glee. They talked for a few minutes, mostly about what they had most recently checked out of the library, until Hermione straightened suddenly.
"Are you excited for your birthday tomorrow?" She asked, her eyes reflecting her expectancy. Harry nodded slowly.
"I am. I don't think I've really wrapped my head around the idea of it, though. I mean…" He let out a shaky breath. "I mean, I didn't have someone even wish me a happy birthday for ten years. I've never really looked forward to it before. Then, last year, out of nowhere, an eight foot tall stranger breaks down the door and tells me I'm a wizard. That's been my best birthday so far, despite how bizarre everything really was…" He sighed with a smile. "Anyway, I've never had a reason to be excited for a birthday before. So this is different. But I like it." He added hastily.
Hermione let out a sigh of her own, and Harry glanced towards her to see her eyes were welling up with tears. He offered her a smile, and she returned it happily, her tears seeming to vanish as her face brightened.
The front door suddenly clicked open, and the duo stood up quickly, eager to welcome Mr. and Mrs. Granger home. The two dentists walked into the kitchen, and Hermione happily brandished their plate of remaining cookies.
"Well, they certainly look good. Although, you know you're supposed to put the flour in the cookies, not your hair, right dear?" Mrs. Granger smirked as she grabbed a cookie off the plate. "Oh my!" She exclaimed. "Dan, try this!"
"Jean, let me just – ack!" He cried out as his wife practically shoved half of her cookie into his mouth. "I was going to – oh my goodness, that's delicious! Hermione, was this you?" He asked, his eyes lighting up at the taste. Hermione nodded so fast that flour flew out of her hair, and Harry felt his heart soar as Mrs. Granger clapped her hands together in jubilation.
"Well done, sweetheart! I'd hug you, but this is a black top I'm wearing, and you've got…you know…" She smirked again, gesturing towards her daughter's hair. Hermione blushed, and glared daggers at Harry for a moment before excusing herself to go take a shower.
"I think I should do the same. I, uh, well…" Harry trailed off, pointing to his own hair.
"You don't have to walk on eggshells around us, Harry." Mr. Granger laughed to himself, eliciting a groan from his wife.
"Go upstairs and clean up so you don't see me murder my husband." She sighed, and Harry grinned before dashing upstairs.
The Next Day
Harry blinked his eyes open the moment he felt sunlight filter through the curtains into his room. He felt himself grinning stupidly as he fumbled for his glasses. Once he could actually see, he turned to the window and saw the sun was barely poking out above the horizon, so he laid on his back and sighed contentedly. The Grangers had ended the previous night by promising him an unforgettable birthday. Hermione in particular had looked more excited than he'd ever seen her, and he grinned at the thought of whatever tricks she had planned.
He checked his watch, reading that it was barely after seven, and thought about closing his eyes for an hour or so until Hermione & Co. woke up when Hedwig suddenly hooted. Harry turned to face his pet owl, who was perched on the edge of his desk, practically glaring at him.
"What? Wishing me a happy birthday, are you?" He muttered. The snowy-white bird let out something that sounded suspiciously like a sigh, before cocking its head towards the window. "You want to go out?" She hooted again, impatiently. "Expecting a couple owl friends to hang out with, carrying birthday cards and all that?" Harry sighed, sitting up. Hedwig remained silent, and Harry took that as a yes. "Me too…" He sighed as he began to think about something he'd been trying to push out of his mind.
Harry had yet to receive a letter from anyone from Hogwarts. Hermione, too. Harry understood that he was spending every minute of the summer with the person most likely to write to him, but he'd spent plenty of time with those in his year in Gryffindor when he wasn't undergoing life-endangering missions. Surely Ron, or Neville, or Dean, or Seamus would write? Maybe even Lavender or Pavarti would send him a birthday message. They'd all become alright friends, at least according to Harry. And all eight of them had shared that compartment on the way home on the Hogwarts Express, where everyone had promised to write. Harry had none of his friend's addresses, however, and he didn't want to send Hedwig out without an exact address when they were surrounded by muggles. He and Hermione had given all of their housemates the Grangers' address in hopes of getting a handful of letters to correspond with over the course of the summer. Instead, nothing.
Harry sighed dejectedly at the thought of his friends forgetting him, until he heard a rapid series of knocks on his door.
"Harry! Are you decent?" He heard Hermione call out from the hallway. Harry whipped his head around, and before he could stammer out an answer she practically kicked the door down. "Happy birthday!" She cried out joyfully as she ran over to the side of his bed and leapt in next to him.
"Thanks Hermione, I – ow!" He winced as he felt a wall of force crash into his side and a pair of arms wrap around him. "Blimey, Hermione, I haven't even gotten out of bed!"
"Oh, hush. It's your birthday! Your first real birthday celebration!" She grinned, rocking back and forth in excitement as she kept her arms in a vice grip around her best friend.
"Look, I love your hugs more than anything, but I – "
"Hermione, dear, he's turning blue." Laughed a voice from the doorway. Hermione leapt away from Harry in a panic and stood next to his bed, dusting herself off hurriedly. She blushed as Mrs. Granger crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "Happy birthday, Harry."
"Thank you, Mrs. Granger."
"Jean."
"Thank you, Jean." Harry corrected himself with a sheepish grin. Mrs. Granger gave him a warm smile.
"My husband is downstairs making pancakes, whenever you're ready." She added before walking away, throwing her daughter a glance Harry couldn't quite read. Hermione turned back to him eagerly.
"Are you excited?" She asked, her eyes almost pleading.
"Of course I am!" He responded with a grin. Hermione beamed at him, and stepped towards him and practically dragged him out of bed. Well, no, she did drag him out of bed, and he landed on his back with a painful thud.
"Sorry!" She whispered frantically, tuning out his swears and yanking him up to his feet and leading him down the stairs. Harry stumbled into the kitchen with a grin.
"Happy birthday, Harry!" Mr. Granger exclaimed, clapping him on the back and handing him a plate. Harry widened his eyes at the height of his stack of pancakes. "Plenty more where that came from." The dentist winked as Harry took a seat at the table.
The four of them didn't hesitate to dig into the massive breakfast. Harry glanced at the clock and realized Hermione's parents must have gotten up quite early to do such a thing before they had to go to work, and he felt a pang of guilt reverberate across his stomach. He glanced nervously at them, but they each grinned at him with such genuine happiness that he felt any unpleasant feeling in his body melt away.
Once the birthday breakfast concluded, the Grangers told them to behave until they got home for the afternoon and evening. As they departed for the dentist office and the door shut behind them, Hermione leapt towards Harry once again.
"Happy birthday!" She cried out as she enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug.
"Hermione!" He cried out in surprise as the oxygen was squeezed out of his lungs. "Is this what you're going to do all afternoon?"
"I'm just so happy for you!" Hermione giggled into his shoulder. "Do you have a better idea?"
'No, you definitely don't.' Harry's inner voice taunted, and Harry fought the urge to rip his brain out of his skull and beat it to death. He gave his friend a gentle squeeze before answering.
"I was thinking we could go to Sapphire Park. Maybe get some ice cream, enjoy the fresh air. I thought it would be nice."
"Anything you want!" Hermione pulled back and grinned at him before grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the door.
The two of them practically sprinted up the street and along the sidewalks that led to the entrance of the park. They roamed the beautiful grounds for the better part of an hour, exchanging smiles with all kinds of happy park-goers as they meandered along the walking path. After they had wandered the length of the path and back, Hermione led Harry to a park bench that overlooked the pond. The pair sat in a content silence for a few minutes before Hermione turned to him.
"Are you having a good birthday so far?" She asked anxiously. Harry couldn't help but laugh.
"What could possibly give you the idea that I'm not having a good birthday?" He asked with a grin. "Everything so far has been perfect. Breakfast with everyone, the nice weather, walking around with you out here. Truly, it's been amazing, Hermione."
"So there's nothing you're wishing for? No changes you'd make? Nothing would have made your day better?" She asked, the nervousness in her tone growing more apparent. Harry pursed his lips as he realized what his bushy-haired friend was trying to subtly refer to.
"Hermione, I know you're worried about neither of us getting letters – "
"Honestly, Harry, I couldn't care less that I haven't gotten any letters. It's that you haven't gotten any. I mean, sure, Ron and the other Gryffindor boys don't strike me as some rather perfunctory summer pen-pals." Harry snorted in agreement. "But at the very least they should have sent you something for your birthday. Maybe even Lavender and Pavarti. Or the Weasley twins, they should have sent you some prank-based gift. Harry, something's wrong." She rambled, her eyes reflecting her worries.
"Look – "
"And don't get me started about Gringotts. You still haven't heard from them, have you?" She asked. Harry suddenly found interest in the shaking hands laying in his lap. "Have you?"
"No, alright, I haven't. I haven't heard from Gringotts, or anyone. But, Hermione, right now, that is not what I want to think about. Tomorrow, maybe we can owl Hogwarts or someone to see what's wrong. But right now, I'm a perfectly normal kid celebrating his twelfth birthday with his best friend." He sighed, turning to meet his friend's eyes. They were darkened with concern, with apprehension, but she relented.
"Tomorrow, then. But for now – " She stopped as a familiar tune rang out across the grounds. Her eyes immediately brightened, her mouth curling into a smirk as her hand latched itself around Harry's arm.
"Oh, please don't start running again, we just – ack!" He groaned as his friend leapt off the bench and took off. Harry followed close behind, barely managing to stay on his feet.
The two arrived to meet the ice cream truck at twelve on the dot. The driver recognized them now, considering how frequently they visited him. He was a chipper-looking teenager with fiery red hair, and Harry wondered absent-mindedly if he was a long-lost Weasley cousin. His thoughts of Ron's family were quickly wiped from his mind when Hermione led him to their usual picnic table.
"Cheers. To you!" She grinned as she held her mint-chip cone out. Harry gingerly bumped it with his like they were toasting at a banquet, and laughed amongst themselves.
The pair decided to wander back to the house, opting to read on the patio and enjoy each other's company until Hermione's parents returned home to take the pair out for Harry's birthday dinner. They hadn't revealed much about the restaurant, just that it had delicious food and that Harry should wear some of the sharper clothes he'd picked out on their shopping spree a month prior.
The two of them were reading silently, Harry his copy of A Few Good Men for the umpteenth time, and Hermione a tome about muggle-based astronomy, when the Grangers returned home. Harry hadn't even noticed the hours creep by, but the sun was starting to dip beneath the horizon as he trudged inside to get changed in his room.
KNOCK KNOCK
"Come in." Harry said quietly as he desperately tried to neaten up his hair in the mirror. The door creeped open and Mr. Granger stepped in. "Hi, Mr. Granger." He greeted with a smile before returning to the mirror.
"Hello, Harry. I thought you might need help with your tie, but yours looks even better than mine!" He smirked. "Where'd you learn how – " He trailed off suddenly as Harry's expression darkened, but only for a moment.
"My cousin never bothered to learn. So instead of teaching him, my uncle had me tie his school tie for him in the morning…" Harry trailed off. "First time I've worn a tie outside of school, though, and they tie themselves in the castle. It's a nice feeling, tying your own tie." He mused, distractedly moving his hands from his hair to straighten his tie. He turned from his reflection towards the dentist, who stood silently by the doorway. "How do I look?" He asked, peering down at his outfit. He wore the white dress shirt paired with the blue and black striped tie he'd gotten from J. Crew. He figured it was as nice as he could get, and he wore a pair of black dress pants to go with them.
"You look great, Harry. But…" Mr. Granger smiled almost mischievously. "…I have a birthday present for you. One that I think you should open before the rest of them." He handed Harry a bag marked with a few words he didn't recognize.
"What does Mar-gee-ella mean?" Harry asked, sounding out the foreign looking word. He half expected his bedside table to start hovering off the ground when he said it out loud.
"Margiela, Harry. It's a brand." Mr. Granger smirked. "Go on, see what's inside."
Harry gingerly opened the bag and reached his hand inside. He felt a smooth fabric and carefully grabbed it and pulled it out. At first he thought it was a cloak, but he held it up in front of him and got a much better look.
"Mr. Granger – "
"Every young man needs a quality blazer." The dentist smiled with satisfaction. "Try it on, go ahead." Harry eagerly whipped it behind his back and slid his arms through the sleeves. He pulled the jacket over his shoulders and straightened it out. He turned to the mirror and saw that he looked like a completely different person. He felt like a completely different person. He turned back to Hermione's father, who winked.
"Looking sharp, Harry!" Mrs. Granger grinned as she walked in and leaned against her husband.
"Thank you. Mr. Granger, thank you so much for this, I – "
"You've earned it, Harry." He replied.
Harry nodded quietly and turned back to the mirror to make a few unsuccessful adjustments to his hair before asking if everyone was ready to leave.
"We're still waiting on the beauty queen." Mrs. Granger smirked. Harry couldn't hide his surprise that Hermione was taking so much time to get ready for something. It didn't strike him as very Hermione-esque, but regardless he followed the adults down the stairs to wait in the living room.
The three of them waited, listening to Hermione's footsteps pitter-patter throughout her room upstairs. Harry silently wondered about what she was doing that required so much time and energy. He sighed distractedly and took to staring out the window, where dusk had just fallen.
Finally, Harry heard Hermione make her way down the stairs. He stood up eagerly, his eyes locked on the staircase as she came into view.
'What did this stranger do to Hermione?' Harry found himself marveling as a girl with sleek brown hair carefully strolled down to the living room. Her hair was shiner than he'd ever seen, shiner than how it glowed in the sunset in the Forest of Dean, or when she was sitting by the campfire that night. Her skin was radiant, especially her face, which was framed by her hair, which hung in loose curls.
She locked eyes with Harry and beamed at him, and he couldn't help but do the same. She was wearing the blouse he'd seen her try on at the mall, the periwinkle blue making her skin look that much more dazzling. She looked like a completely different person, but at the same time she still held Hermione Granger's eyes and smile.
'She even wore makeup…' Harry realized as she stepped closer to him.
"You look nice." Hermione managed rather awkwardly.
"You l-look, really pr – nice. You look really nice too." Harry stammered, his face feeling like it had caught on fire. Hermione's cheeks turned pink as well and she looked down to her shoes. The pair shared another smile and turned to the Grangers, who were observing with unreadable expressions.
"Ready?" Mr. Granger asked. Everyone nodded eagerly and they ambled into the car, towards the restaurant.
Harry had never had French food before, unless you counted French fries (a joke that elicited an eye-roll from his best friend). Hermione happily explained everything on the menu, which was an enormous help because Harry saw so many foods he'd never heard of he was starting to think he was reading French.
He decided on trying steak frites, and when he finally dug in Harry thought he had entered another dimension. He was certain that the words to describe how delicious it was did not exist in the English language, or any language.
"Hermione thought you would like this place. Although I think she just really wanted to come here herself." Mrs. Granger smiled as she took a sip of wine.
"Mum!" Hermione sighed in exasperation. "That's not true. It's my favorite restaurant in the world, I just thought you should have the best for your birthday." She told Harry as she dug into her gnocchi. "Do you want to try some?" She asked Harry, holding out a piece on her fork.
Harry shrugged and he and Hermione swapped a few bites of food, both admiring how delicious the other's was. Harry enjoyed every second of the meal, and couldn't help but notice how comfortable he felt. It was without question the fanciest restaurant he'd ever been to in his life, but he was with the Grangers. Maybe at the beginning of the summer he'd be much more nervous about how to act, but not today. He was with the most helpful and most sincere people he'd ever met, enjoying a birthday dinner like he'd always wanted to. He smiled happily to himself as he redirected his attention to his plate.
The four of them returned home, all stuffed to the gills with French food. They were so full, that the Grangers insisted on skipping dessert and heading home, which Harry didn't mind. He was feeling particularly tired and was about to thank everyone and head upstairs when Hermione grabbed him by the hand. He raised an eyebrow as she dragged him towards the kitchen table and sat him in his usual spot.
"What is happening…?" Harry wondered out loud as Mr. Granger hit the light switch and plunged the room into semi-darkness.
"Happy birthday to you..." The three Grangers began to sing, and Mrs. Granger appeared beside him, holding a birthday cake with red and gold icing. "Happy birthday to you…" They continued as she placed it in front of him, and he saw twelve candles dotted across the surface. "Happy birthday dear Harry…" He looked up and smiled embarrassedly at the three of them. "Happy birthday to you!"
"Make a wish, kiddo." Mrs. Granger smiled, and Harry nodded.
'I wish this could last forever.' Harry thought to himself before blowing out his candles triumphantly. The Grangers applauded and quickly took their seats.
"So, I know she wanted me to not tell you until you tried it," Mrs. Granger smirked as she flicked her eyes towards her now blushing daughter, "but this cake was made by none other than Hermione Jean Granger."
Harry turned, bewildered, to his best friend. "Really?" He asked. She nodded blushingly, averting her eyes. "You made this for me?"
"She did the Gryffindor colors and everything! Snuck downstairs last night while you were sleeping. I thought she'd never get to bed, she wouldn't listen to us. Wouldn't even let us help – "
"Dad!" Hermione squeaked, and Harry couldn't help but grin. Hermione had made him a birthday cake – the very girl who was terrified of the kitchen just two weeks ago. He admired the slice of cake on his plate for a moment before digging in.
"Hermione, this is delicious!" He cried out, unable to hide his amazement. "You're a natural." He added, and somehow Hermione's cheeks got even redder.
The four of them each enjoyed a slice of cake, but eventually decided that they were pushing the limits of their stomachs and decided to save the rest of Hermione's creation. Mrs. Granger carefully wrapped it up and placed it in the fridge, and before Harry could excuse himself to go to bed she returned with several gifts wrapped immaculately in wrapping paper adorned with lightning bolts.
"Are these all – "
"It's your birthday, Harry. Come on, open up!" Mr. Granger grinned, and Harry happily – albeit nervously – obliged. The first he opened was from Mr. and Mrs. Granger. He pulled out a booklet and flipped it over to see the cover. He couldn't help but grin as he read the words A Few Good Men emblazoned across the front. "We figured the Hogwarts library might be short on copies. Open it!" Mr. Granger whispered, and he did so – almost dropping the book in surprise at the sight of Aaron Sorkin's signature.
"Thank you so much!" He managed, unable to hide his disbelief. Hermione handed him another present, this one much smaller. He carefully removed the wrapping paper to reveal a small black box. He lifted the lid and a flash of gold shot upwards. "Woah!" He cried out before instinctively reaching out and grabbing it. He felt the familiar cold metal of a Golden snitch as the wings fluttered and slowly stopped. He turned to Hermione in shock. "Where did you get this?"
"I read about a Quidditch store in Wales that sells them. It's not authentic, you can get it to come back just by opening the box." She demonstrated by carefully lifting the black box's lid. Immediately, the Snitch zipped out of Harry's hand and into the box, tucking its wings in and laying perfectly still. "It won't take off again until you close it and re-open it. I figured you could practice your reflexes indoors since flying is pretty difficult out here. I got just before we left the castle for the summer."
Harry found himself in disbelief once again. Hermione had found the perfect gift – all summer he'd secretly been wishing he could practice for Quidditch but to no avail. Even if it wasn't flying on a broomstick, he couldn't help but feel excited at the prospect of using his new Snitch.
He opened a few more gifts: a hat for the winter from the Grangers, an empty photo album for him to fill with memories, and a Gryffindor sweater Hermione had also gotten before they left Hogwarts. Harry couldn't help but admire her dedication to finding such great gifts so far in advance.
"I don't know what to say." Harry managed, suddenly feeling a rush of emotions as he looked at his gifts on the table in front of him. "Thank you all so much!"
"Of course, Harry. Happy birthday." Mrs. Granger beamed. Her husband nodded, and Hermione had the brightest smile he'd ever seen.
"Alright, I think we can all head up to bed now. It's been quite a day, I'll say." Mr. Granger sighed with a smile as he stood from the table. The rest followed suit, and soon all four were upstairs. Harry and Hermione walked to their end of the hallway and stood awkwardly outside their doors.
"Thank you for the gifts, Hermione." Harry smiled. "They really were perfect. I don't know how I'm going to top it for your birthday." He smirked. Hermione blushed.
"Oh, don't worry about that. I'm glad you like them, though. Even if Quidditch is a dangerous, mind-numbing – "
"Alright, alright, you've made your opinions on Quidditch very clear. Don't expect me to quit, though." He grinned, and Hermione sighed.
"I figured as much." She said, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. "Good night, Harry." She said quietly, her eyes locked onto his, holding all kinds of emotions he couldn't recognize.
Harry felt a nervous feeling grip his heart. He hadn't felt it since that night in the Forest of Dean, when Hermione had been so…weird.
'You were caught staring at her, I think you're the weird one.' The voice in his head retorted, and Harry once again wished he could hex his own thoughts.
"Good night, Hermione." He gingerly opened his door and laid his gifts on the floor of his room before turning to give Hermione a hug, a nightly tradition he was happily getting used to. He felt Hermione settle against his shoulder and sigh contentedly. She pulled herself on her tiptoes and rested her head on his shoulder, before suddenly backing away.
"What?"
"Harry, who is that?" She pointed worriedly towards his room. Harry was certain there was nobody in his room, until he turned and saw a funny-looking creature he'd never seen before sitting on his bed.
"I…I don't – what the?" He stammered. The creature had ears like a bat and an unnervingly long nose. Its eyes were green like tennis balls, and they were currently locked onto Harry. The three of them stayed in an uncomfortable silence. Until…
"Hello, Harry Potter! Hello, Hermione Granger!"
Hermione squeaked and clung to Harry's arm.
"Harry, it just talked!"
"Yeah, I noticed." He whispered, slowly walking into his room with Hermione in tow. "Erm, hello. What are you doing here? And how do you know who we are?" He sounded much calmer than he really was. Was this bizarre creature what Voldemort had sent to do them in? Harry was jarred from his fearful thoughts when the thing spoke again.
"Oh, Dobby has heard all about you two! You are mentioned very often in my master's house. It seems Master is not the only one…" The creature grinned, pointing to two piles next to Harry's bed. Harry stared quizzically at them, until he recognized the handwriting of his classmates.
"Are those…letters? Have you been stopping our letters?" He asked, and Hermione hitched her breath in surprise.
"I'm afraid so, Harry Potter. Dobby had to do it. Dobby wants to protect you both from what is to come!"
Harry turned to Hermione, who looked equally curious and horrified. The boy wizard was starting to think he wasn't getting his birthday wish redeemed. He turned back to Dobby.
"Start talking."
A/N: Howdy, everyone! I know, I know, I didn't update yesterday. It was a pretty rough day – I had an exam in the morning, and from that I had to go straight to work until 8:00 PM, and then I got some pretty crappy news, which made it next to impossible to write out a chapter worthy of your guys' time. So, I thought I'd make it up to you with the longest chapter yet!
Harry helping Hermione learn to cook and bake was something I always loved reading in other fics, so I thought I should try and put my own spin on it. And it wouldn't be Harry if it didn't involve messing around. That combined with the birthday extravaganza was originally going to be its own chapter, but I decided to lengthen it to make up for yesterday. Regular updating schedule will resume starting today, as I have a much easier schedule for the near future.
Hopefully you guys enjoyed this chapter, and yes, as you probably guessed from the ending, the fluff will now become less of a priority in favor of the coming events. Next stop, Diagon Alley!
Once again, I cannot thank you all enough for your incredibly kind reviews. Each and every one of you is amazing, as are those of you who have added this story to your favorites and follows. It means the world to me, and if you haven't done so yet and are enjoying the story please do so! Thank you all, and stay safe!