"150 grams of sugar…" Hermione muttered, measuring out the requisite amount and dumping it into the mixing bowl in front of her.
"Hermione, are you home?" a voice rang out from the fireplace in the next room.
"Yep, floo is open, come on in!"
A minute later Harry walked into the kitchen, scourgifying the soot from his jumper.
"Hello love," he said, dropping a kiss on her cheek before conjuring a stool to sit at the counter. "What are you up to?"
"Making dough for biscuits."
"And what's the occasion?"
"Fred is coming over in a bit for dinner and holiday baking."
"Dinner and holiday baking, eh? Is that what the kids are calling it?" he waggled his eyebrows and grabbed an errant chocolate chip from the counter, popping it in his mouth.
"Why does everyone do that? I can be platonic friends with a man. And have a platonic dinner with him. And bake some Merlin-be-damned platonic biscuits."
"And do you have platonic feelings for Freddie-boy?"
Hermione paused her stirring for a split second before resuming.
"Piss off. What are you doing here anyway, isn't Ginny home for the holidays?"
"Yeah, I actually came to invite you to Sunday roast at The Burrow tonight, but clearly you have grander plans."
He watched her slowly fold chocolate chips into the dough, a pensive expression on her face. She suddenly dropped the spatula and smacked her hands on the counter.
"Harry, am I being crazy here?" she asked in a strangled voice.
"What's crazy, really?"
"Making four different biscuit doughs, buying a new blouse, and spending two hours braising lamb shanks."
"Is that what that smell is?"
"Oh God," she braced her elbows on the counter and dropped her head into her hands.
"Hermione, you're not being crazy. Anyone with eyes can tell that Fred likes you too."
"You're certain?"
"As sure as I've ever been of anything."
"Harry, you had a panic attack on your wedding day!"
The boy-who-lived paused with another chocolate chip halfway to his mouth and seemed to consider this for a moment before he shrugged.
"Love's a funny thing. I still say Ginny is barmy to have married me."
Despite all the worry and the stress, Hermione felt the tension in her shoulders ease, and she started laughing in spite of herself. The memory of Ron and Neville in formalwear, holding Harry down so she could dose him with a calming draught, was just too entertaining.
"Okay… okay, but you need to get out of here because I have a little over an hour to finish this dough and get dressed."
"Say no more – and try to relax, yeah?"
"Yeah, I'll do that, now scram," she said, swatting him with a towel.
He gave her a quick hug and departed as quickly as he'd come. Hermione turned back to her dough, finishing stirring it before wrapping the top in plastic and placing it in the fridge. She quickly cleared the counter and got everything put back in cupboards, finally removing her apron and heading upstairs to change.
She tried on over a half-dozen outfits before getting annoyed and just slipping into a pair of jeans and a faded grey Gryffindor t-shirt. Baking with sleeves on was a pain anyway. She took a bit more care with her hair and makeup, carefully braiding the front back on either side and fastening it with a pin before swiping on a bit of mascara and dabbing her lips with a tinted balm.
She donned a pair of little spherical silver stud earrings and called it a day, heading back downstairs as it was nearly seven now.
When the floo roared to life fifteen minutes later, the lamb shanks were out of the oven and Hermione was slowly streaming cream into a pot of semi-mashed potatoes.
"Darling, I'm home," Fred joked, walking into the room and carrying a small box with the flaps folded down. Hermione felt foolish smiling at the affection, but she couldn't stop the corners of her lips turning up.
"Hello dear, how was work?" she asked, playing along.
"Dreadful," he said seriously, dropping into the stool Harry had failed to vanish. "I'm convinced that nobody in their right mind works in retail during the holidays."
"I've always said you were barmy," Hermione said, finishing the potatoes and placing them on the stove beside the pot of lamb. "Grab a plate, we have to eat so we can get to baking. I've prepared doughs for chocolate chip, ginger, double chocolate and rolled sugar biscuits."
"Blimey Hermione, how many do you think we're going to eat?"
She laughed as she retrieved silverware from a drawer. "I'm taking them to the school with me tomorrow – Theo and I are doing joint classes Monday and Tuesday since we'll only have a little over a dozen students. By the way, what's in the box?"
Rather than clearing off the table, which was stacked with papers and assignments she needed to grade over the break, she conjured another stool and sat beside him at the counter with her plate and gestured at the crate with her fork.
"Funny you should ask – I may or may not have gotten some books for the orphanage. This is spectacular by the way," he complimented, taking an enormous bite of his food.
"Fred, that's so sweet!"
"I mean, I am pretty amazing," he teased, getting up to refill his already dwindling plate.
"Not that I'm not perpetually thrilled about being in the presence of books, but why did you bring them over here?"
"I figured you'd see Malfoy before I would, no?" he asked, back turned to her as he stood in front of the stove.
"Actually, we'll both see him Saturday at George and Angie's."
"What?" Fred asked in a surprised tone, spinning toward her and knocking the potato-covered spoon that was resting on the counter to the floor.
"Fred," she laughed, not noticing the panic on his face and drawing her wand to vanish the mess. When she settled back into her seat, she picked up her fork and was surprised to find he hadn't moved at all. "What's the matter?"
"You're going to the party this weekend?"
"I mean, yeah… is that not okay?"
He was acting odd and it was making her anxious. Was he so turned off her that he didn't even want to see her? That didn't make any sense considering his accepting her invitation tonight, and it seemed far too vindictive for Fred. Even if they wouldn't work out as a couple, she didn't think he'd want to cut her out completely.
"No, it's – uh, I just didn't think you were going to be there. You never go to holiday parties."
"Yeah, I thought I'd try something new," she said quietly, trying to mask the hurt in her voice. Do not cry, she scolded herself.
"Hey, I didn't mean… I'm glad you're going to be there," he said quickly, crossing the kitchen and wearing a deeply troubled expression. "I just already agreed to go with someone is all."
Well, Luna and Angie were right. He had certainly surprised her.
"Oh," she said lamely, brows pulling together for a split second. He certainly hadn't wasted any time. She thought of the preparation she'd put into getting ready for their evening together and began to feel silly before chastising herself. She was still allowed to make plans with a friend.
"I'm sorry –" he began in earnest before she cut him off.
"That's wonderful," she said in her best imitation of excitement. Years of being in the public eye had morphed her into a proficient actress and she dug deep into that skill set, plastering a smile on her face. "Who's the lucky witch?"
"Erm… Verity," he said, running a hand through his hair.
"Well that makes sense," Hermione said, picking up her half-finished plate and discarding the scraps before placing it in the sink. "You two make a very handsome couple."
"It's not exactly –"
"Which cookie do you want to make first?" she asked loudly, feeling bad about talking over him but not having any interest in lingering on the topic. Of course, it was Verity. She was leggy and blonde and, most importantly, not on the fast-track to being someone's mum.
"I guess we can start with the gingerbread," he said a bit reluctantly, sensing her desire to change the topic. "They're my –"
"Favorite," they said in unison. They locked eyes for a moment and Hermione offered a crooked smile before quickly looking away.
She flicked her wand at the oven and switched it back on, turning to the fridge and ducking in to grab the dough. She paused for a moment with her face hidden and sucked in a breath of frigid air before straightening and turning back toward him.
"So, I can't believe Angie's having twins…"
oOoOoOo
"Are you sure you don't want to take more?" Hermione asked late that evening. It was after ten and they had decided to call it a night, every single surface of the kitchen and dining room covered in trays and tins of biscuits.
"Absolutely not," he said, shaking his head and balancing two packed boxes in one hand. "As it is, I could eat biscuits every meal from now until the new year and still have some left over."
They stopped in front of the fireplace and Hermione was struck with how similar it was to a few days prior in the lobby of the academy. Except there wasn't a question anymore. As Theo had so aptly put it, that ship had set sail and Hermione was still standing on the dock.
"So, five o'clock on Wednesday?" she asked, secretly cursing her offer to help at the shop. It wasn't that she wanted to leave him high and dry, but perhaps a bit of separation would help her come to terms with the fact that their timing just didn't seem to be right.
"Yeah," he said, seemingly searching her face for something, "last chance to back out, you know."
"I wouldn't dream of it," she said, summoning another smile. Her cheeks were beginning to hurt.
They stood there for a moment, each desperately wanting the other to say something and both remaining absolutely silent.
"Well, good night Hermione," he said finally, ducking and placing a chaste kiss on her cheek.
"Night Fred," she said, shifting back so he could step into the fireplace. As the emerald flames engulfed him and faded again, Hermione finally released the mask she'd kept carefully in place all evening and let the tears begin to fall.