AN: Thank you for all the support! It is very deeply appreciated!
Dare I hope I can bake?
Hermione peeked into the bowl of dough. It seemed to be the consistency Severus said it should be.
"Do you plan on staring at the dough all day, or would you like to bake your cookies?" He teased, his voice contained no venom.
"Of course they won't." She arranged the dough into circles, careful to space them properly. Once the final clump was put atop the cookie sheet, she glanced at Severus.
"Well done," he gave her a small smile. "I could not have done it any better."
"Don't say anything yet," she opened the oven door. "For all I know this oven is broken from lack of use and the cookies will be severely undercooked, or worse, burnt."
"If it is undercooked we can put them in for more time. If they are burnt, you will smell it."
"I know." She exhaled. "I don't know if I trust this oven though given how little I've used it."
"It made the roast just fine."
"True." She placed the cookie sheet into the oven and shut the door. "But that isn't as delicate as baking cookies."
"Heat is heat regardless of what is being baked," he noted. "If you set the correct temperature then I assure you, you did everything perfectly."
"Perhaps." She cast a spell to let her know when the baked good were complete. "I hope I put enough sugar in it."
"Believe me, you put in the perfect amount."
"Are you certain? Scorpius and Cassie like sweet things. What if the cookies aren't sweet enough?"
"If you add another cup of sugar you will ruin the consistency."
"I know." She leaned against the counter. "I'm still trying to wrap my mind around baking though."
He opened his mouth.
"I know." She held up her hand. "I know it's just like potions and the process is the same. It's just hard for me to imagine how a cookie is like a potion."
"Why?"
"Because I could brew a potion, but I would only destroy cookies, at least according to Molly."
"You should never have listened to Molly." Severus frowned. "She was wrong about you in so many ways."
"I know that now, but at one time, she was like a second mother."
"She seemed to be an inconsistent one."
"What do you mean?"
"From everything you've told me, she wanted you to be the perfect housewife, but thought you were too incompetent to do so. I have never seen such a case of mixed signals."
"But I needed her help. I was a muggleborn. How could I ever be a good wife to a pureblood if I didn't know what I was doing?" She bowed her head.
"I never imagined her as a pureblood supremacist." He raised an eyebrow.
"Of course she isn't, I never meant to imply otherwise. Still, she had ideas for who her sons were to marry. She wanted her grandchildren to be raised a certain way. Actually," she swallowed. "She wanted biological grandchildren period."
He turned blue.
"I think that's why I took what she said to heart." She looked at him. "I already felt like a failure as a woman when the healer told me I was sterile. Babies are so important to wizards. It's a woman's duty to have a child. If I couldn't handle one thing like have children, then why bother with any other domestic duty?"
"You are far more than your uterus."
"Am I to the Wizarding World?" She whispered. "You know how things are. Everyone is obsessed with bloodlines. Purebloods, halfbloods, muggle borns, they're all categories which define people. Every pureblood can trace their family back generations, even the Weasleys. Sure, some say that having children is not everything, but in reality, the Wizarding World wants women who can breed, something I can never do."
"Damn the Wizarding World," his voice was low. "They can all burn in Purgatory or hell for all I care."
She swallowed.
"You are intrinsically valuable regardless of any bloodline," his glow intensified. "Never forget that."
"You only say that because you love me and you cannot have children anyway. You have no stake in any of this."
"First of all, I have quite the stake in your happiness given that I love you and want nothing more than to see you content with life. Second, you are intrinsically valuable, and should never doubt your worth."
Doubt clouded her eyes.
"If there is one sin I should spend more time in Purgatory atoning for, it is contributing to your inferiority complex. You deserved to be nurtured, not indoctrinated with bloodline tripe which nobody in the afterlife cares a thing for."
"I wonder if anything would've changed if we'd all known what the afterlife would be like." She took his hand.
His glow flickered.
"If we had known that muggles and magical beings would have equal power one day and could do all the same things, if we knew nobody cared about bloodlines, if we knew the tasks we would have to undergo to atone for our sins, if we knew what it would take to go to heaven immediately, would wizards have such a superiority complex? Would there have ever been a war?" She mused.
"I think Voldemort would've still feared death and done something to prevent it."
"Would anyone have helped him if they'd known about the afterlife and what was valued?"
"I don't know," he replied. "All I know is that if I had known I had a chance to find love in life, I would have taken steps to remain alive, not joined a group which endorsed something as meaningless as one's genetic structure."
"If you had lived, do you think we would have fallen in love with each other?" Hermione released him.
"I would like to think so, but I doubt I would have done the self-reflection needed to accept your love."
"I may have been too distraught over everything to seek you out. Who knows if our paths would have crossed?"
"We could have attended a Ministry Ball together."
"I detest those things, and refuse to go to them. Every year I incinerate the invitation."
"Perhaps the Trinity had more foresight than I gave them credit for, then."
"Are you saying they wanted you dead so you could find love?" She asked.
"I don't think so, but they seemed to have wanted me to experience love, whatever form it may take."
"They seemed to want that for me as well."
They stared at each other in a comfortable silence.
"Once we show them how much better the world is with you in it, they'll have no choice but to allow the program to continue," Hermione began.
"I would hope that to be the case," his glow lessened. "Though perhaps we should prepare ourselves for it to end."
"Not today though," she replied. "Not before the Malfoys arrive."
"No," Severus grinned. "Not before I see Draco again."
Her wand glowed red.
"Let's see how they turned out." Hermione put on her oven mitt and took the cookies out of the oven. She inhaled the scent and let out a sigh. "These smell amazing."
"Did you have any doubts?" He smirked.
"No, but I didn't think I could bake and honestly," her expression matched his. "I was still struggling to see my feared potions master baking cookies for his toddler godson. If I cannot envision that, how can I determine how great your cookies truly are?"
"I assure you, I baked for Draco quite often."
"I suppose so." She set the cookie sheet on the stove. "I mean, you are the most amazing spirit in the afterlife."
"That is far from true and you know it."
"You're right," she replied. "My grandmother is dead. She is by far the more amazing spirit."
"The one who made the," he twisted his lips. "Interesting recipes."
"Yep, she is in heaven and baking delicacies which taste more delicious than you could ever dream of."
"Oh she is," Severus purred.
"Yes, her strawberry green bean casserole is superior to these cookies."
"I suppose I will have to teach you how to make strawberry green bean casserole, then, or find a way to put green beans on these cookies."
"If you ruin these cookies I will never forgive you."
"Yes, you will." He kissed her.
She laughed as he embraced her, pressing his essence against hers. Although he stopped short of fusing with her, he could not help but feel euphoric.
Making the frosting could wait another few minutes.