Hi guys!

This chapter: Harry baking cookies (yay!), a stern talk with Jerome and some kind of cross-examination with thrilling results...

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Love,

Flora

Chapter 8: How Hermione made Harry realize he was head over heels in love with her.

Cooking with Aunty Penelope proved an absolute joy. She had a very good taste, an eye for detail and excellent teaching skills. Harry found himself creating a few batches of batter that contained the most delicious cookie-dough he had ever tasted. As Mister and Mrs. Granger started to prepare the dinner for that night, Hermione installed herself on a kitchen stool, engrossed in a Charles Dickens-book she had grabbed from a bookshelve, Aunty Penelope next to her, as she was unfortunately too frail to actually stand behind the counter for longer than a few minutes at a time. Harry gave them a few test batches of dough to try, and the two women delighted in commentating on Harry's baking skills. They were either going easy on him, or he managed to do quite a good job right away, because Hermione gave nothing but praise and Aunty Penelope would occasionally suggest a bit more nutmeg or a bit less salt. Following Aunty Penelope's list of ingredients, Harry finally made one batch containing white chocolate chips and cranberries, and one batch containing dark chocolate, almonds and orange zest. They both reveled in the delicious smell filling the kitchen, as Harry decided to help out Mister and Mrs. Granger as well.

'You're sure I shouldn't help too, mom?' Hermione asked.

'Absolutely - remember last Christmas?' her mother said, with a knowing laugh. Hermione huffed and assisted Aunty Penelope back to the lounge. Harry looked at Mrs. Granger quizzically.

'Last Christmas?'

'You know we love Hermione with all of our hearts,' Mister Granger answered, 'but she is not that great in the kitchen. Last year at Christmas Day, she insisted on making the main course without any assistance. When we sat down to eat it, she had messed it up so bad, it was absolutely inedible. Oh, how disappointed she was... We had a laugh about it eventually, but you know how insecure Hermione can be.'

Harry nodded, cutting open a chicken breast, filling it with red pesto, mozzarella and basil.

'It does explain why she was so silent last New Year's Eve when I asked how her Christmas had been, though.'

They chuckled, working with the food in silence.

'So,' Mister Granger finally said. 'You and Hermione are still engaged, right? How is that going for you?'

Harry tried very hard not to hide his shame, but he felt redness creep on his face immediately

'Good,' he lied, shortly. 'It's just a-... Well...'

He fell silent as he stuffed one of the chickens a bit too full. He wasn't able to fully wrap the bacon around it and muttered a curse under his breath.

'Jerome told me about what happened at the Christmas Ball,' Mrs. Granger pressed on. 'Under the mistletoe.'

He knew that would come back to bite him in the arse. He gulped and managed a fake smile. A knot had formed in his stomach that made it difficult for him to breathe.

'Yes. Hermione and I are sorry about that, by the way. We didn't mean for you to see that, Mister Granger.'

'Jerome, Harry!' Mister Granger corrected him. 'Hermione said it was all part of the plan. We obviously don't want to pry, but we just want to make sure that you both are okay. We know how much you mean to Hermione. You have been her rock through all the bad things she faced since her eleventh birthday. We don't know how well she would cope without you. To be honest, it was a fear Isa and I used to harbor a lot before the end of the war.'

Jerome looked at his wife, and she smiled at him.

'Don't get us wrong,' Mister Granger continued. 'Hermione did a stellar job at hiding the largest part of the chaos in the Wizarding World to us, but we managed to sneak away enough Daily Prophets to get a grasp of how big it was. She finally admitted to us that there would be a chance that you wouldn't make it out alive, and she was absolutely broken. I'm not saying that this engagement-ruse is the same as then - the contrary. This is a happy, joyful thing, a joke between friends, right? But we just... I guess we just want to warn you, Harry.'

Harry felt the knot tighten and tried to look as naturally at possible. Of course Hermione's father would warn him - to stay away from Hermione and try nothing funny, for example. The things he had told himself over and over, especially after he had woken up from a vivid dream.

'Your friendship is powerful, and it will withstand a few blows, but you need to be mindful of her heart too. Hermione is a very sensitive soul, and although we would love to welcome you into our family as something more than just Hermione's friend, you know she compromises. That's her nature. She will downplay her own feelings in order for others to feel better. Especially you, Harry. We know that you wouldn't take advantage of her, not in a million years. We just ask you to pay attention. And we just want you to know, how she is possibly more affected by all of this than you understand right now.'

Harry hadn't expected that, to say the least. It confused him. First there was the fact that they would gladly welcome him into the family - that was... something. And what did Mister Granger refer to in terms of her vulnerability? Did he suspect Hermione to actually harbor feelings for him? But she had told him it had been a fleeting thing, something that came over her, nothing more, nothing less. Surely, he was ought to trust Hermione's own words, right? Right? "She will downplay her own feelings... For others to feel better..." Harry thanked Mister Granger, assured him that he would be very good to Hermione, as always, and then they finished up the preparations for the meal. "Especially you, Harry. Pay attention."

Harry was lost in thoughts when he washed his hands and cleaned the kitchen block. When retreating to the lounge, he saw Hermione had curled herself up on one of the loveseats again, Crookshanks pressed up neatly against her. She looked absolutely serene - her large eyelashes batting slowly as her eyes devoured the pages in front of her, a content relaxation showing on her face. Crookshanks's loud purring filled the room. It almost felt like they were back in their common room. There was no sign of distress or insecurity on her face, and she pretended to look up when Mister and Mrs. Granger announced that they would go for a little stroll. "She is possible more affected by all of this than you understand."

He sat next to her, and she looked up briefly to acknowledge him.

"Pay attention."

He decided not to touch her this time, but turned his attention to Aunty Penelope, who was reading a glossy magazine, with some members of the Royal House printed on them. Prince Charles and his new fling (a women he thought looked remarkably like a horse), grinned sheepishly at the cover.

'I take it you don't cook a lot anymore, Aunty?'

'Oh, Harry, is the preparation for tonight done? No, I'm afraid not. I'd love to, but I can't reach the counter anymore, you see. I could sit on my walker, I guess, but my arms get too tired. I miss it a lot, actually. I had quite my way with a whisk, if you'll believe me.'

She feigned a smile.

'On the other hand, Alan gets to serve me every day now, which is a blast for him, isn't it, Alan?'

She had meant it as some kind of jab at her servant, but if he realized, he didn't show it on his face when he answered.

'Certainly madam.'

'Are you going home for Christmas tonight?' Harry asked.

'Absolutely, Mister Potter. My girlfriend and I plan to visit church and then we get the first slice of her Christmas Pudding.'

'He has a girlfriend,' Aunty Penelope said giddily. 'He asked her out not that long ago, didn't you, Alan? He met her in Turkey.'

Alan, who looked a lot less stiff when he talked about his girlfriend, explained how they met during a scuba diving lesson. He had been divorced, she had been widowed. They hit it off instantly.

'Don't you have the intention of marrying her, dear Alan? I mean, if my soon-to-be son-in-law can pop the question, so can you!'

Harry laughed nervously and glanced over at Hermione, but she was too engrossed in her book. The tip of her tongue stuck out of her bottom lip and he knew she was too far gone to hear anything from the conversation.

'I have been saving for a ring some time now,' Alan confessed. 'It's just hard to know what a woman likes, if I'm completely honest.'

'Take a look at Hermione's ring,' Aunty said. 'Maybe that will inspire you.'

Hermione looked disturbed as Harry loosened her tight grasp on her book.

'What are you doing? I was just in this really exciting bit about-...'

'Your ring, dear,' Aunty Penelope chirped. Harry looked apologetic and Hermione sighed. She removed the small band from her finger and showed it to Alan, while she kept on reading with one eye.

'Oh, that is very delicate indeed,' Alan nodded. 'May I ask you where you bought it, Mister Potter?'

Harry tried to keep a straight face.

'I... I didn't,' he said, truthfully.

'You didn't?' the old woman asked, puzzled.

'No, because... Well... It's an heirloom, you see,' he lied.

'Oh, is it really?' Aunty Penelope sighed lovingly. 'That gives even more meaning to it. You said your parents were wealthy, Harry.'

'Yes, they were. My grandfather was the inventor of a product for haircare, but they also had some old money,' Harry jumped into the subject, now he had deflected them from the engagement. 'When my parents died, their house was sold and let's just say that I don't have to worry about my finances, I'm very lucky in that sense.'

'So Hermione's marrying well off,' Aunty Penelope said, approvingly. 'I wouldn't have mind it if you were more common, Harry, obviously, as Geoffrey was. But it's good to know that a man can provide for their family. Especially a woman as sweet as my niece.'

Harry didn't like Aunty Penelope being this conservative, but well, she was seventy-seven. He couldn't blame her that much, he supposed.

'So, tell me, Harry,' she continued. 'I know you met at boarding school, but how did you get together?'

There it was. The predicted cross-examination.

'That is a very, very interesting story,' Harry said, with a broad smile. 'And I think Hermione should be the one to tell it.'

He nudged her in the side and she scowled.

'I'm reading!'

'But Aunty Penelope wants to know how we got together,' Harry said, slowly. The look on Hermione's face changed from angry to stressed to fake laughing.

'Oohh, well, that is a wonderful story,' she said.

'It is, right? I thought you could tell it best.'

'Me? Oh no, Harry, we both know you are the best story-teller.'

'Absolutely not,' Harry replied, trying to do as good of a job as her at fake complimenting. 'Besides, she is your Aunty. She probably wants to hear it from you.'

'I'm sure she'd love to hear it from you as well, Harry. You are a lot better with words.'

'You remember more details.'

'You...'

Hermione was out of words and squinted her eyes.

'No, you tell it,' she decided. 'I always have to tell it, you always pull this on me. I want to hear if you actually remember.'

'I-... Ohh. That one's filthy, Miss Granger.'

'I play dirty. You know me. And by the way, that's "Future Mrs. Potter for you", Harry.'

She grinned at him and playfully stroked his cheek. He felt his skin light up with her touch.

'Now, let's hear it.'

'Why did I have to date the brightest-... woman of her age?' Harry asked, with a hint of drama in his voice. Hermione chuckled and couldn't help but place a small kiss on his cheek.

'You'll do fine. Now tell Aunty Penelope, and if you miss something, I might be gracious enough to fill you in.'

'Oh, you might be gracious enough? Lucky me!'

She slapped him playfully on the arm. Her eyes were glistening cheekily and he couldn't stifle a grin.

'Fine. Fine, you little minx.'

Aunty Penelope looked very amused at their bantering and he possessively put an arm around Hermione's waist and pulled her closer. "We know you won't take advantage of her, Harry..." She leaned into him, with a sigh and a smile, and he knew that he shouldn't be doing this, but her touches were absolutely addicting. He brought her against his chest and nuzzled his nose in her hair, kissing the top of her head.

'Hermione and I have always had a very strong bond,' he started, figuring that it would be easiest to keep it as close to the truth as possible. 'We were always together, and throughout our teenage years we had quite a few adventures. And obviously, since she's the next best brilliant mind since Einstein, she-... Ouch, Hermione!'

Hermione slapped him, while Harry continued: 'She helped me pass about every course I ever took, because of her supreme intellect - I'm sorry, I won't be sarcastic, stop!'

They both laughed as she ended their wrestling.

'I think the first moment I kinda started to notice something different, was when we had the Yule Ball. She wore a beautiful blue dress, and I was completely floored, do you remember that?'

'I didn't remember you were "completely floored",' Hermione joked. 'You had a different date, remember? And you were totally eyeing Cho Chang the entire time.'

'Well I absolutely noticed you, Hermione,' he countered. 'It was the first time I saw you not wearing enormous sweaters or school robes, and me, being a simple teenage boy, absolutely took note of that.'

Aunty Penelope laughed out loud and so did Hermione.

'Classic. Go on.'

Harry paused for a moment, remembering Hermione said that they were dating for a bit more than 3 years during Eugenia's birthday party.

'I think it slowly developed into something more. I always cared for you more than I cared for anyone else, obviously, but my eyes weren't opened until after graduation. I dated Ginny in between. You dated Ron-...'

'Worst mistake of my life,' Hermione mumbled nodding and Harry grinned.

'True. Total train wreck. I've seen crime scenes that were less messy.'

Hermione elbowed him again and Harry laughed.

'Ouch! Stop attacking me!'

'You're asking for it!'

'Well, then, one afternoon, we had this game night planned with our group of friends and everyone blew us off, remember?' Harry fabricated. 'Neville and Luna went on a date night, Ginny had Quidd-... I mean, sport-practice... And we were like "screw them, we're going to have a fun evening either way".'

That night had taken place, around that time, and Harry clearly remembered how that went.

'Now comes the interesting part,' Hermione said to Aunty Penelope. 'What happened?'

'We ended up on the couch together, and we started talking a lot, and drinking, and we had fun. And then there was that moment...'

He remembered it as clear as day. They had a great evening, but suddenly, on that couch, Harry had felt a pull between him and Hermione that he couldn't quite describe, but it wasn't the first time he had felt it. He had felt it at school, a few times, and in the tent, a couple of times, and when they had been alone after that, quite a lot of times. This pull was the largest he had experienced up until that point, and he had looked at Hermione, and she had stared back, and he counted every freckle on her face and thought to himself that he never allowed himself to entertain the thought of being something more than just her friend. He'd moved in closer, and so had she - the firewhiskey had clouded his mind, almost as much as her eyes looked clouded, and then they heard the noise of the fireplace and knew Ginny had returned from her practice. He and Gin had still shared Grimmauld's Place at that point and were living together, although it was more for the fact that he wouldn't charge Ginny rent and she functioned as a facade to keep Rita Skeeter and her annoying reporters at bay. The moment between him and Hermione broke, when Ginny stepped through the door, but for a few weeks he had thought about it, almost obsessively. What if Ginny hadn't walked it? What then?

'I looked at her and it all just dawned on me. That she was the one I had always been looking for. That all that time, it was more a realization of "oh, so it is her!", rather than anything else. Suddenly it all looked so simple. So, I gave her a kiss.'

'And I kissed back,' Hermione chimed in. 'Then we had a few dates, and finally he asked me to be his girlfriend. We have been together ever since.'

They looked at each other - Hermione's eyes brightly shimmered, and he counted her fading freckles again.

'Oh, that is a very sweet story,' Aunty Penelope squealed. 'And you told it so gentlemanly, Harry!'

Harry grinned, ruffling his hair.

'Give your lady a kiss, then,' Aunty Penelope pressed on. 'Only appropriate after you've told such a sweet tale!'

He wanted to. Merlin, he wanted to. Since the moment they had agreed not to kiss he had only thought about her lips. He sensed Hermione's breath on his skin, and he felt her tilting her head to allow him access. You have an agreement, you stupid arse! He heard an angry voice yell at him. You both agreed that you wouldn't do this again, no matter who asked you, no matter what circumstances!

Well, it takes two to tango, Harry countered in his mind, as he stroked her loose strands of hair. And she's not backing off either, is she? He slowly leaned forward, being incredibly aware of how intimate their positions were, as Hermione was nearly sitting on his lap, and kissed her. It was brief, it was quick, but it was probably the most meaningful kiss they shared yet, as Harry softly pressed his lips to hers, basking in the sense of her mouth against his. Hermione hummed softly, a sound so amazing that it shot arrows through his spine and made him realize that that was quite possibly his favorite sensation in the world: her voice vibrating against his lips, the smell of her on his skin, the touch of her hands against his face... The kiss couldn't have lasted more than two seconds, but when he opened his eyes again to stare at her, he knew he was in trouble.

And that's the moment it all just dawned on me, he thought, ironically, but he knew it was true. The look in her eyes, the comfort he felt when she was in his arms. It was her. All this time, it had been her, and it would probably always be her. Hermione. His best friend, his big-brained bookworm, his saving grace, his comic relief, his everything, was now not just everything, but so much more than that. He saw it. He sensed it. He felt it. It ran through his veins, it settled in his head, and it made his heart burst. So it was her. So it had always, always been her.

'I love you,' he heard himself say, simply because it was the only sentence that his vocabulary seemed to contain in that one moment. Right after he said it, he knew he shouldn't have. It made things more complicated, more hard, but then he realized Hermione didn't look like she was freaking out or stressing.

'I love you too,' she replied.

And as their lips slowly touched again, Harry figured that this would absolutely be the best Christmas Eve he ever had.