A/N: And here we are at the next chapter. I hope you like it!
Chapter Twenty-Four
Yasmine flipped through a book of fairy tales, the largest and most beautiful of the books she had found in the bookshelves, with lovely soft pictures made with vivid colors and golden borders, and of course they didn't move, like magical ones did. She only had one magic book, and it was in Ancient Runes, and she had to get Hermione to translate it for her. But for some reason, Hermione didn't seem to enjoy those stories very much, so Yasmine didn't trouble her to read them to her that much, though she often wondered why Hermione didn't like the stories, and she spent a good amount of time imagining why.
Katy said that there wasn't anything too peculiar about that; after all there were some stories Yasmine didn't like to read, like The Railway Children. And Yasmine just didn't like it; there was no reason why, so why should Hermione have a reason for disliking those stories?
"I like that picture," said a quiet voice behind her, and she jumped.
"This one?" she said, after seeing that it was Dusty. She ought to have gotten used to his odd way of moving without making noise, but she hadn't yet. "That's Cinderella, and this is the prince, and…"
He studied the picture over her shoulder.
Cinderella, slender and fair-haired with demure blue eyes, dressed in a graceful blue gown, danced in the handsome prince's arms. The prince had dark hair, and a modest gold crown, and dark eyes that smiled down on the girl in his arms. All of the people at the ball had gathered to watch.
"Good colors." Dusty sat down next to her carefully. Yasmine nodded in agreement.
"Ben said his mother used to dance with him," Dusty said suddenly, touching the couple with a chalky finger, "like that."
He smiled slowly.
"Harry and Hermione went to a ball when they were younger."
Yasmine's imagination went rather wild-Hermione in a long, elegant blue gown, with white gloves and pink cheeks, and Harry looking dashing and princely in a suit, and the dance floor clear except for the two of them, and their faces glowing with happiness as they waltzed around a gleaming white floor, with soft blue light around them and everyone watching…
"Harry says her robes were blue." Dusty touched the gold border with interest, "But they didn't dance together."
"Why not?" Yasmine felt rather disappointed as the vision of Harry and Hermione faded in her mind. Dusty shrugged.
"Doesn't matter. They're together now. Like the picture."
She smiled with triumph.
"I knew it," was Yasmine's first comment when Harry and Hermione had explained their relationship to the group over lunch, "I told you, Jack, didn't I?"
Miffed, Jack had retorted that Yasmine had said they would get married, and that they hadn't, so there. But then Yasmine had said, "I told you they were in love, and they are, aren't you?"
Hermione's dreamy smile was something Yasmine had tried to remember every detail of. The way her eyes had glowed, and the way she and Harry had looked at each other at the exact same time and held each other's gazes for a long moment…
Harry had said in a sort of whisper, "Madly."
And Hermione had blushed, and Jack had made a face, and Ben and Adrian had shared embarrassed smiles. Jackie had fallen into a fit of giggles.
Yasmine had, that night, tried to imagine any boy saying that to her, and although the idea was lovely, the scene always turned out wrong, and Yasmine never knew what to do after the boy said it, so she had resolved to leave that until she was older.
Katy had of course spent the rest of lunch talking happily to Hermione about how glad she was, because they seemed so happy, and she was sure that Harry and Hermione would be happy for a long time, and she didn't know exactly how she knew, it was just a feeling that she had, and didn't Hermione know what she meant? And Hermione had given one those lovely, glowing looks to Harry and said that yes, perhaps she did know what Katy meant. Jack had made another face, and Adrian and Ben had hurriedly started up another conversation with Jack about the tree fort they were planning on building.
Harry and Hermione had been very careful around them, Yasmine realized as she flipped the page from Cinderella to Snow White, they'd only kissed once or twice and held hands while she and the others were present, and not for very long, either. In fact, except for the looks Harry and Hermione shared, and the way they smiled whenever you mentioned the other, she was rather disappointed at how… well, how normal everything was. When she had said this to Katy, Katy had shrugged and continued to examine the cogs of Harry's old wristwatch.
"I can't see why they can't be in love and be normal," she had said, in that matter-of-fact way she had, "Isn't love supposed to last forever?"
Yasmine looked around and noticed that Dusty had slipped away again. She turned back to Cinderella.
She couldn't see anything normal about Cinderella, or Snow White, but Harry and Hermione… they were special. She ran a finger along the golden border, then touched Cinderella's smiling face.
Hermione looked just as beautiful, she thought, when she was with Harry.
Jack would have scoffed at her thoughts, but it was true.
She wondered what the ball had been like. Of course there had been music, and dancing, and… had there been food? Maybe… and why hadn't Harry danced with Hermione? Surely he must have wanted to; after all, she must have looked beautiful. Perhaps… perhaps she had come with a dashing stranger with fair hair, and Harry had felt as though he couldn't compete, and…
She let the thought fade off.
"Yasmine?" Hermione poked her head in the room, "Are you sure you don't want to go to the park with Harry and the others?"
Yasmine shrugged. "I don't really want to go."
Hermione came in and sat beside her on the floor, peering at the book in her lap. "Cinderella?"
"What was the ball like?" Yasmine blurted out, and Hermione glanced at her, startled. For a moment, Yasmine was worried that she wasn't going to answer, for she was silent and thoughtful.
Then she spoke, smiling quietly.
"It wasn't… what I imagined," she said slowly, "It wasn't like the one in your book."
"What was it like, then?"
Hermione paused, thinking for a moment.
"It was… a bit frightening, actually."
"Did you go with a dashing stranger?" Yasmine asked eagerly, and Hermione laughed, looking amused, and Yasmine was too excited to feel embarrassed.
"You could put it that way, I suppose. He was certainly a stranger to me at the time. He's a good friend of mine now."
"But you and Harry didn't dance."
"Goodness, no. I'm not sure he knew how," she laughed again, and there was a faraway look in her eyes, as if she were back in the ballroom. "He had to open the ball with his partner-"
Yasmine couldn't help but interrupt.
"Was she gorgeous?"
"The prettiest in our year," Hermione said, without hesitation, and Yasmine stared.
"Weren't you terribly jealous?" she whispered, leaning closer to her. Hermione smiled.
"No, not really," she said, putting an arm around her and leaning her cheek in her hair, "I didn't have anything to be jealous of at the time."
"But you would be now."
"Yes, I would be," Hermione laughed, blushing that very pretty shade of pink, "But not then."
"But if Harry couldn't dance, then how did he open the ball?"
"He… sort of waffled his way through it. His partner helped him. I think. I'm not sure."
"You must have looked very pretty."
Hermione smiled quietly.
"I've been told I did. I was very nervous, though, and I wasn't sure what people might think."
"Of what Harry would think."
Hermione paused, thinking again.
"Yes, of what he would think, and what others would think, too. It's a bit scary, really, your first date. That's what it was."
"What was he like? Your partner?"
Hermione considered the question, fiddling with the corner of the book of fairy tales.
"Tall. Not particularly handsome, but charming enough. Strong, dark hair, a bit awkward on the ground-he played Quidditch-a good listener."
At the look on Yasmine's face, she laughed again.
"Not exactly the Prince Charming you were thinking of, I expect."
Yasmine shook her head.
"But what did Harry think of him?"
Hermione paused, tapping her fingers on the book and thinking.
"I'm not sure," she said at last, as Yasmine looked at her. "He didn't mind him."
"Did he kiss you?"
Hermione turned pink but shook her head.
"Only my hand," she said, "he was a perfect gentleman. Some people thought that he had kissed me, but that was a rumor that someone started and nothing more."
"So that wasn't your first kiss."
Hermione shook her head.
"No." And for some reason, she looked uncomfortable.
"Who was, then?"
Hermione let out a breath and looked at the floor for a moment, as if debating whether or not to answer.
"It was Ron."
"Ron?" Yasmine blurted out, "But- I thought…" She simply couldn't picture tall, fun-loving Ron with Hermione. It had always been Harry in her mind, and she had never considered the fact that Ron might be a potential match for Hermione.
"You thought Harry would be the person to give me my first kiss, yes?"
"Well, you and Ron, you don't…" Yasmine made a quiet noise of disbelief and half-giggled. "Why?"
"It was silly, really, I just… made a ridiculous decision." Hermione shrugged, "We both fancied each other, but that was it. It didn't have any… depth to it. We tried it and we were both unhappy. And we were smart enough to see through it." She smiled. "Don't look so surprised, Yazzy. It's not quite as easy as stories make it seem."
"But you gave Harry his first kiss, didn't you?"
"Oh, dear," Hermione said with a quiet laugh, "no, I didn't. It was someone else."
"And what was she like?" Yasmine asked, "Was she pretty?"
"Lovely. And very smart, really. Unfortunately, her boyfriend was killed by Voldemort in our fourth year-it was terrible." Hermione's face darkened, "Harry was the last one with Cedric before he died. I suppose that's why she was drawn to him, more than anything. He was her last link to him."
Yasmine fell silent. It was one thing in a story; in real life, it was just rather sobering.
"Did he like it?" she whispered after a pause. Hermione let out an astonished laugh.
"Why do you ask?"
"Well," Yasmine said awkwardly, "You don't seem like you liked your first kiss very much."
Hermione blushed and chuckled sheepishly.
"I suppose he liked it. He was… very dazed when he told us about it. Actually, I had to guess myself, because he couldn't speak."
"I bet he likes it when you kiss him, better," Yasmine whispered loudly with a giggle, and Hermione laughed, turning an even brighter shade of pink.
"Hermione," Yasmine said after a pause, "what's it like? You know, to really, really love someone?"
Hermione paused.
"I think that's something you need to find out yourself, Yaz," she whispered, bending and kissing her forehead, "But know this: it's worth waiting for. It is every bit worth waiting for."
Yasmine looked up into Hermione's eyes, full of light and hope and love, and she hugged her tightly.
"It's going to be an awfully long time for me, isn't it?"
Hermione laughed and hugged her back.
"Well, I met Harry when I was eleven. Who knows?"
Yasmine looked up at her.
"You waited for him, didn't you?"
"Not quite," Hermione smiled and laughed, "We were together so much we didn't recognize what we'd been waiting for. We were odd that way. But you know that story."
Yasmine laughed.
"I was a part of that story."
Hermione smiled and shut the book of fairy tales.
"You still are."
"Because the story isn't over yet."
"Oh, no. The story is definitely not over yet," Hermione said quietly, looking rather far away again, "Harry and I have a while to go."
"But you're excited about it."
She laughed and tickled Yasmine softly. "Very!" Yasmine squirmed and rolled away, laughing.
"Now let's go get some lunch. We can talk more about this later."
~*~
"Let's make cookies!" Jackie said happily, as Hermione put away the last few dishes. "Chocolate cookies!"
"Chocolate cookies?" Hermione laughed, as Jackie hopped up on the stool Harry, Ron, and Katy had built for her. It had two green steps, the top step just high enough for Jackie to be waist-high to the kitchen counter. Jackie had dipped her feet in white paint and pressed two small, white footprints on the bottom step, and Dusty had carefully printed Jackie's name on the top step. "Right now?"
"With frosting!"
"And frosting? My, that sounds like a lot of work."
Jackie gave Hermione her biggest, sweetest smile. "Not if we do it together!"
"Is that right?" Hermione playfully tapped Jackie's small nose, making her giggle. "And what about clean up?"
"I don't know…" Jackie frowned thoughtfully.
"Because if we make cookies, you have to help clean up, too." Hermione said as Jackie thought, "That's part of cooking; you clean up after yourself."
Jackie looked at Hermione hopefully.
"Could we clean up together, too?"
"Yes," Hermione said, smiling, "we could."
Jackie beamed. "Then let's start right now! And the others can have some when they get back from the park, right?"
"That's a good idea," Hermione agreed, pulling out a recipe card and starting to take out the bowls and ingredients necessary for the cookies, "But maybe we'll do frosting some other time. I don't know if they'd taste as good with frosting on them."
"Oh," Jackie looked disappointed. "Okay. Could we make frosting tomorrow?"
"I don't know about that!" Hermione said, "We have the picnic with Harry and the Weasleys, remember?"
"Oh, yeah!" Jackie picked up the measuring spoons and pretended to stir ingredients in the bowl, "And we'll make things for that, right?"
"Right," Hermione said, reaching into a cupboard and pulling out cocoa powder, while waving her wand and starting the oven. Jackie watched the oven knob turn to 350 degrees with wide eyes. "Ready?"
~*~
"Now roll a bit of the dough into a ball about this big--" Hermione held up a small, one-inch ball of dark chocolate batter. Jackie eyed the ball carefully, then obediently rolled a small amount of dough into a ball of almost identical size.
"Like this?"
Hermione absently dusted a bit of the cocoa powder off Jackie's flushed cheek and smiled, "Yes, exactly like that. Now put them about this far apart of the cookie sheet-a little more, there you go-Harry, don't eat that!"
Harry grinned.
"Just making sure you made it right, Hermione," he said innocently, making Jackie giggle. "Come on, you know you want to try it, too-"
He held up a small ball of the dough and popped it into her mouth. Hermione shook her head, smiling and rolling her eyes at Jackie.
"Does it taste good?" Jackie asked eagerly, and Hermione paused, swallowing.
"It's very good," she said as Jack, Ben, Adrian, and Katy came through the kitchen, "Here, you can try a little, too-"
"Oh, I want to try!" Adrian said eagerly, peering at the cookie dough hopefully, "Can I?"
Of course then everyone crowded into the kitchen, and everyone took turns tasting the dough. Jackie positively glowed under the praise of the whole group, and then, obviously feeling important, bossily said, "All right, now we have to bake them! You have to go away now!"
The older kids smirked and exchanged looks that clearly said, Isn't she cute? Let's humor her. And they turned and made a great show of hurrying out of the kitchen, Adrian and Jack adding noises of terror for effect.
Ten minutes later, the cookies were baking in the oven, and Hermione was helping Jackie clean up the measuring cups and the mixing bowl with a rag and some soap.
Jackie, despite her misgivings, seemed to find the washing process enjoyable ("Almost like taking a bath, right?" she had said to a somewhat amused Hermione) and was soon up to her elbows in the soapy water, happily scrubbing at the mixing bowl.
"If only this lasted," Hermione said somewhat ruefully, "I wish the others were so happy about washing dishes."
Harry grinned.
"You've got flour on your face," he said, using a hand to brush it off her cheek, "There."
She smiled. "How was the park?"
"A few small scrapes, but no one died." Harry said with a shrug, "Jack and Yasmine got into another argument over tag, but that was quick to sort out… and they really liked flying the kites."
"Thank you," Hermione said to him appreciatively, "For taking them out."
"It was fun," he said sincerely, "I didn't get to play much at the park when I was younger."
She smiled, looking back at Jackie, who had finished with the mixing bowl and was perched on the counter, watching them in fascination.
"Off the countertop, please. Thank you!"
"Are you going to kiss her?" Jackie asked Harry curiously, obediently standing back on her stool. Harry grinned mischievously.
"Do you want me to?"
"Maybe a little one," Jackie said, holding her small fingers a centimeter apart to indicate how little. Harry nodded seriously, his green eyes twinkling behind his glasses.
"All right. Just a little one."
"Oh, really, I…" Hermione began, but Harry slid a hand up her cheek, playfully running his hands through her hair, and kissed her softly on the mouth. Her eyes fluttered shut as he did, and her arms slid around his waist tightly. Harry grinned, drew away, and glanced over at Jackie solemnly.
"How was that?"
Jackie giggled and shrugged, rocking back and forth on her feet and giving him a thumb up.
Harry bowed deeply, and Jackie laughed out loud. "Thank you very much, Miss Jackie!"
"Oh, all right, that's enough," Hermione said exasperatedly, looking flushed and amused all the same. She picked Jackie up and put her down on the floor. "It's time for the cookies to come out of the oven, Jackie."
She brightened. "Can I take them out?"
"Maybe when you're older," Hermione said, flicking her wand and levitating the hot cookie sheets carefully to the counter. "Look at those! Good job, Jackie!"
Harry picked Jackie up and let her look at the hot round chocolate cookies on the cookie trays.
"Brilliant!" he said, squeezing her slightly. "Good job!"
She sniffed them happily. "Can I have one now?"
"Let's give them time to cool," Hermione said, "And then you can have one."
Jackie grinned and squirmed in Harry's arms, obviously indicating that she wished to be put down. He put her down, and she scampered outside, announcing at the top of her lungs, "The cookies are done!"
Harry chuckled as they heard her dashing up the stairs, still announcing that the cookies were done, and he said, "It looks like you've got a resident baker."
"She'd bake every day if she could," Hermione confirmed, cleaning the countertop with a damp rag, "I don't think I've ever cooked this much."
He shrugged.
"You're good at it."
"I try," she said modestly, "though I have managed to burn a few things. Magic makes it much easier to start over."
She ran cold water over the rag, wringing it out and hanging it on a hook over the sink. He watched her, leaning up against the counter.
"So how does it feel?"
"What do you mean?" she said, puzzled.
"How does it feel, being a mother of seven?" he clarified, and she frowned thoughtfully.
"A bit crazy, a bit frenzied, quite rewarding at the end of the day... It was all rather scary when I started, and sometimes I wonder how I haven't gone mad-sometimes I do…"
She smiled.
"You've been a great help."
He smiled back, taking her hand. "I'm glad."
After a pause, she stood on her toes, framed his face with her hand, and kissed him tenderly.
"I'm so lucky," she whispered, looking at him with her hand still on his cheek. He smiled, leaning forward and kissing her forehead softly.
"That makes two of us."
There was a comfortable silence, and then she said, "I'd better start taking these cookies off the pan."
"Do you need any help?"
"No, that's all right. You're welcome to stay for dinner tonight."
"I feel like I'm over here too much," he said after a pause, "but I'd love to. I don't want to impose."
She smiled.
"Nonsense. We love having you over." She paused, and then added sheepishly, "I love having you over."
He grinned and flushed, ducking his head.
"I'd love to stay," he said as she began moving the cookies off the trays and onto a clean plate. He paused.
"Did I tell you what Ron said?"
She looked at him curiously. "No, I don't think so."
"Merlin, Harry, you're practically married already; I don't know why you and Hermione even bother dating." Harry said in a passable imitation of Ron's bemused and exasperated tone, and she snorted.
"And what did you say?"
Harry shrugged. "I told him he was right."
Her head snapped up. "You did not!"
He looked completely serious. She gaped at him, completely nonplussed.
Moments later, he burst into laughter.
"No, I didn't," he said, smirking, and she glared at him.
"That's not funny!"
"Yeah, it is, you just don't want to admit it." He paused. "But you've got to admit that he has a point."
"Ask me again in about a month and I might," she said dryly, though Harry couldn't miss the sparkle that had entered her eyes, "Meanwhile, remind me to wait until after I'm married to introduce Ron to my parents."
"Should I take that as a hint, then?"
Hermione looked up and saw him looking at her. His eyes were dark with sincerity, and she shrugged, her heart beating even more quickly as she did.
"Maybe."
Harry smiled, and his eyes fixed on hers intently.
"I'll be sure to remind you soon," he said softly, placing a kiss on her forehead.
She closed her eyes, a blanket of warmth settling around her racing heart as he touched her cheek.
"I'll go tell the kids that the cookies are ready, shall I?"
"Yes. You should," she managed to say, looking down quickly and pretending to arrange the cookies on the plate. Her fingers trembled.
Well, you certainly didn't go for the subtle approach there, Hermione. The voice in her mind sounded suspiciously like Ginny's and annoyingly smug.
The moment Ginny had managed to get Hermione on her own (she had been folding laundry), she had crowed, "I told you, didn't I? I told you!"
To which Hermione had replied irritably that she sounded more like an eight year old than a seventeen year-old witch. Ginny had ignored her.
"So has he proposed yet?" Ginny had demanded as Hermione folded one of Dusty's shirts--he had managed to get a bit of paint on almost all of his shirts, so even though he and Jack had much of the same clothing, it was easy to tell.
"Of course not, Ginny," she had said exasperatedly, "We've been dating a week. That's it."
"Oh, come off it, you've been practically married since you took the kids in. He's their father figure, Hermione, and you're their mother figure. Tell me the logical next step isn't marriage. And there you go again, blushing like mad."
"Harry and I are going to date. D- A- T-E. Did that reach you, or do I have to spell it again?"
Ginny had ignored this as well. She had what Hermione called selectively permeable hearing.
"You can't tell me you've never thought about marrying him."
Which of course, Hermione hadn't been able to. In fact, in the past month that they'd been dating, Hermione had been thinking about it more than she would like to admit. Ever. To anyone. Least of all to Ginny. Hermione shuddered, picturing Ginny pouncing on this little tidbit of information and concocting scores of ruses to get Harry to propose.
Ginny was a very good person, and she would do anything to help her friends. As far as Hermione could tell, it had been hard for her when she and Harry had broken up. She was very good at hiding it.
But Hermione had noticed. She had done all she could, and eventually Ginny had gotten over the breakup. She did so surprisingly quickly, and Hermione distinctly remembered Ginny telling her in a businesslike manner, "If I'm not right for him-don't look like that; I really am over him-then I might as well help him find someone who is. Someone perfect for him in every way."
Hermione had been too busy trying to dissuade her from this to notice the odd look Ginny had cast her.
Ginny was a good friend. Really, she was. But she tended to have an odd idea of what `helping' a friend really meant. At one point, Ginny had informed her that it was her job to keep Hermione from going insane.
To which Hermione had replied that Ginny was one of the reasons she had gone mad in the first place.
They got along fairly well along those terms.
Nevertheless, Hermione sometimes wondered if perhaps it wouldn't be better tell Ginny to find a boyfriend so that she could stop bothering about where Hermione stood with hers.
But Hermione didn't know that herself.
"Should I take that as a hint?"
And she had said `maybe'?
Well, I couldn't very well have said, "Yes, you daft git, you should, even though we've been dating only a month, and even though my mother would probably declare you the answer to her prayers and monopolize the wedding plans, and even though my father would probably murder you with his dentist tools. Because I'm insane. Because I can't imagine marrying anyone else. Because I love you."
And again Ginny's voice spoke in her mind. Well, you'd probably be better off than you are now.
And Hermione couldn't help but think that she might have been right.
A/N: So… yes. That's the chapter. Too much of a jump? Too rushed? Too short? Whatever you thought of it, please let me know.
On a side note, if you'd like to bake the cookies Jackie and Hermione baked, you can find the recipe here: http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Soft-Chocolate-Cookies/Detail.aspx
I've never made them before, but the picture looked very appetizing. And they were chocolate. I might make them myself.
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