Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns these characters. I'm writing this just for fun.
A/N: This is a billion and a half years late hahaha. But it's here at last! And there should be more to come! The prompt for this one is "apple sauce" Again, reviews are a girl's best friend 3 (On a side note, writing house elf dialogue sucksssss. XD Never again. Ever.)
The second time Harry proposed to Snape, he was fifteen, and he and Ron were in the kitchens pilfering some late night snacks from the eager-to-please house elves.
Ron, the hungrier of the two, immediately reached for the double chocolate cake with one hand and a bowl of ice cream Sunday with the other. Merlin knew how he intended to hold a fork. Harry grimaced and turned his head when he realized Ron wasn't going to bother with one.
"Gross, Ron."
"Hrrgh?" Ron said around a mouthful of cake.
Harry just shook his head and tried to decide what he wanted. Watching his best friend inhale chocolate was enough to put him off the stuff for months, which eliminated a sizeable amount of the options before him.
Then he noticed the small glass bowl near the middle of the table, practically invisible behind stacks of double fudge brownies and cupcakes buried under rich, colorful icing. It was apple sauce. Simple, straightforward apple sauce. Call it intuition, but Harry was almost positive the house elves hadn't made it.
As soon as his hand closed around the side of the bowl, a house elf squeaked, "Please, Harry Potter, we is not making that! We is not sure Harry Potter will be liking it! Perhaps he would please pick another dish?" The poor creature looked pleadingly at him.
"You mean… someone from the castle made this?" Harry asked slowly. All the house elves nodded fervently. One stepped forward to take it from him. Harry turned back to the table and picked up a spoon. "I'd like to try it."
The first spoonful was nothing short of heavenly. Somehow, this simple dish contained more flavor than everything else on the table put together. If he was Snow White, and someone told him that the next bite was made with poison, he would have continued to eat anyway. His death would be pure bliss.
"This is the best thing I've ever tasted!" he said in surprise.
"And it was made by someone in the castle?" Ron asked, his mouth empty for the first time since they arrived. "That's perfect! Finally, a witch who knows her way around the kitchen!"
"Ron!" Harry exclaimed, scandalized.
"I'm jus' saying! Find out who made it, and then go get her! Wouldn't you rather have a girl who can cook like this than say—"
"Hermione?" supplied Harry. A dark blush crept across Ron's face.
"Just… just give this girl a shot, Harry. It can't be coincidence that we're here right after she was, you know. And that you just happened to pick the one thing on this table she made. It could be fate! She could be your future wife!"
Harry shrugged his shoulders. It couldn't hurt to ask. He turned to the house elf beside him and asked, "So, who is my bride-to-be then?" Ron grinned encouragingly.
"Please, Harry Potter, sir…" The house elf looked downright uncomfortable. It couldn't be that bad, could it?
A dark shadow swept over him, filling him with dread. He guessed who was standing above him before he ever looked up.
"Disregarding the blatant sexism and immaturity demonstrated by this conversation and your entire generation, it behooves me to point out that both of you are out of bed past hours. As such, I expect to see you, Mr. Potter, and you, Mr. Weasley, in detention tomorrow night."
Snape turned and strode toward the door as Ron's face fought expressions of horror, embarrassment, and amusement. Harry guessed that he had been concealed in the back room, where all the cooking actually took place, listening the entire time they had been here. He stopped with his hand on the door knob.
Without turning around, he said, "I pity the unfortunate young woman who eventually burdens herself with the title of Harry Potter's bride-to-be." Then he was gone, and Ron collapsed in a fit of laughter.