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Hermione woke up on her birthday to the smell of something burning, tickling the inside of her nose when she sat up in bed. Even more concerning was that when she looked to her right, Harry wasn't in his normal spot next to her.
She threw on the first shirt she could find over her head (thanking her irrational fear of firefighters seeing her in just her knickers) and bolted down the stairs to the source. It was coming from the kitchen, where her husband was standing in front of a smoking pan and using his wand to try to put it out, while Artemis screeched and made frantic circles around his head.
"Harry, what on Earth are you doing?"
"Hermione," Harry groaned, but didn't turn away, more focused on rescuing their house, "go back to bed. You weren't supposed to be up yet-"
"I thought the house was burning down!"
"I'm making you breakfast." Once the smoke was gone and Harry tossed the pan in the sink, pulling out another. "I just…" Artemis whizzed up the stairs, probably to try to find an open window, and Hermione ducked to avoid him.
"It looks like you're making a mess."
Taking his glasses off to rub his eyes, Harry looked at the sink for a few seconds, at the multiple pans and mixing bowls he already needed to wash, the flour covering the counter, strewn about further by Artemis's panic, and even a single paw print - when had Crooks been up there? "I can figure it out, I promise! It's your birthday! Just… go back upstairs. Please?"
The way Hermione was standing at the bottom of the stairs, with one hand on her hip, told Harry she wasn't going anywhere. "Just let me help, Harry. You know I can't just go upstairs with you doing all of this down here."
Harry took a deep breath, struggling to admit defeat. It was Hermione's first birthday as his wife, and he'd wanted to make this special for her until he realized that he had no idea what he was doing, and clearly, winging it wasn't doing him any favors. She was right - he was just making a mess.
Once the chaos calmed down, Artemis swooped in to land on the back of a chair, preening his wings in annoyance.
"What are you even trying to make?" Hermione asked softly, moving closer to Harry and wrapping her arms around his waist to kiss his cheek.
"Chocolate pancakes." He pulled his wife in for a hug, muttering into her hair and rubbing her back comfortingly. She just leaned further into him, humming out a giggle.
"Well, they're not that hard. I do know how to make them, if you remember. I can teach you."
"But-"
"And next year, you can make them all by yourself. Without all the feathers and cat hair, though I know you're about to say that's just extra flavor," she teased.
Harry rolled his eyes. "You're not going to leave this kitchen until you've got chocolate pancakes in front of you, are you?"
"Nope!" She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and shoved all the dirty dishes to one side of the sink before pulling the blender out from one of the cabinets. "Now, your first problem was trying to mix all of this in a bowl, when you need to use this . The consistency will be all wrong if you try to mix it by hand. You're lucky we've got all the ingredients, too."
They were rarely in the kitchen together, and there was a reason for it. As with anything Hermione did, cooking was a very important task that had to be done with exact precision. If Harry wanted to "help", the only thing he really could expect to do was stand by the side and observe.
Hermione teaching meant Harry watching, which had resulted in a few very informative evenings about multiple aspects of their lives over the nearly six years they'd been together. Usually he didn't mind, as he was a hands-on learner in every sense of the word, but Hermione had already started pulling additional items out of the fridge and measuring them.
"Hermione."
"Hmm?"
"What happened to me helping?"
"Oh." She paused, raking the back edge of a knife over the measuring cup. "Sorry. I'm doing it again, aren't I?"
"Yes," he grinned.
"Right." Reluctantly, she stepped back from the counter, gesturing for Harry to take her place. "So… it's actually really simple once you measure out the ingredients." With each one, she told Harry how much to use, using all her restraint not to take things into her own hands (mostly because her standing over his shoulder always made him nervous for a multitude of reasons), but once everything was in the blender and the batter was done, she instructed him that it needed to rest for fifteen minutes. "Perfect time to clean everything up."
Harry waved his wand, and all the bowls in the sink cleaned themselves up and stacked themselves back neatly in the cabinets. "Now what?"
Hermione smirked, and it made Harry's heart flutter. Merlin, he couldn't believe she was his wife . "You can't think of anything you'd want to do for fifteen minutes?"
"I can think of a few things, actually." Even with Crookshanks winding around his feet, he pulled her close to him, then lifted her onto the counter (far away from the blender), and settled in the space between her legs to kiss her.
"That's the first kiss you've given me all morning," she muttered against his lips, running her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.
"Maybe that's because you came downstairs and immediately started getting onto me," Harry laughed.
"Oh, I'd like to get onto you."
Harry had to admit - that was a good one. He'd been teaching her well. "With only fifteen minutes?" he teased.
"How about after breakfast, then?"
"Breakfast can wait, can't it?"
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Here you were, so insistent on making me chocolate pancakes and now you don't even care about them?"
"Of course I care about them… I just… there are other things that I know how to do," he began to pepper kisses over Hermione's jaw and neck, making her tilt her head, "that I know you'll enjoy, too."
"And did you have any other plans of things you're wanting to do for me today?"
"Nope. Whatever you want to do, love."
They'd talked in length about holiday expectations before they even got married. For birthdays, unless otherwise specified, the birthday celebrator would be able to completely plan the events of the day, and they'd switch up each year for anniversaries. They didn't decide who was going to go first, but they still had a few months to go before they really had to worry about it. It was a good deal for both of them.
"As long as I get to spend the day with you," she said sincerely, brushing his hair out of his face. "And I might not let you leave the house."
Thank God it was the weekend.
Before they knew it, the fifteen minutes were up and the batter had set. Hermione hopped off the counter and pulled out a pan, setting it on the stove. "Now," she began, "here's where things get a little trickier."
"Uh oh."
"No, you'll be fine! You've just got to keep the heat low and the batter thin, otherwise you'll burn them. But, honestly, I always burn at least two every time I make them, so don't worry about it."
"Well, that gives me no confidence whatsoever," Harry deadpanned, staring at the pan as it started to come to temperature.
"Come on, Harry. You've fought Voldemort. You can cook pancakes." Hermione teased, knocking his shoulder and holding her hand out over the surface of the pan. "Okay, should be ready."
"You first."
Hermione rolled her eyes but obliged, pouring a bit of batter into the center of the pan and showing Harry how to tilt it to spread it out, keeping it thin. Harry, however, was too busy paying attention to the creases between her eyebrows that show up when she's concentrating.
When she was done with the first one and it came out a bit overdone, but not burnt, she looked to him. "Ready to try it yourself?"
"Uh…" Harry's eyes widened as he realized he had no idea how the batter had gotten from the blender to on the plate. "Can I watch another one?"
She fixed him with a look he'd come to know well: a mix of annoyance and irritation that he hadn't been listening, with an undercurrent of nothing but love, knowing that she was the reason for it. "Do you know how lucky you are that I love you?" she asked as she began working on another.
"I try to figure it out every day." He moved to kiss her again, but she pulled back just a hair.
"No more of your distractions or these will never get done."
He reached down to squeeze her bum anyway.
By the time there were five stacked on the plate, only one was burned and Harry had been tasked with finishing the rest of them while Hermione busied herself by filling some of them with strawberry jam and making whipped cream for the top. It was her favorite way to have them, and so easy that it took no time at all. Then, as Harry had done to her, she leaned against the counter and just watched her husband work.
Her husband . Something she'd never in a million years thought she would be saying about Harry Potter. Now, of course, she couldn't imagine calling him anything else. It had been a long time since the war, and though they commemorated the event with a memorial each year and a potluck at the Burrow where memories were swapped and tears were shed, she felt like everything was as it should be. As it was meant to be.
Harry hadn't been perfect. Neither had she. But she was happy, and Harry was happy, and they were married and honestly, she couldn't think of any better way to spend her birthday.
They'd moved in together shortly after graduation, into a tiny flat in Muggle London, not far from Lia and Claire's. Or, now it was just Claire's, since Lia and Ginny had gotten a flat of their own a little less than a year ago. Though Hermione had a feeling Claire would be out once the lease was up, since she was at George's more often than not these days. It was strange if she really thought about it, how they'd all met each other as children and now they were proper adults, working jobs and getting engaged and getting married and… well, there weren't any babies in the pictures besides Victorie and the one Fleur was currently carrying, but Harry and Hermione had relocated into this townhome a couple years back with the intention of eventually growing into it. Though some days, between Artemis and Crooks, it still didn't feel big enough.
Not that she'd ever pass up the opportunity to try.
"You know I can still feel your thoughts, right?" Harry teased, flipping the pancake with a bit more flourish in his wrist than he had with the others and depositing it onto the stack.
"I'm aware, yes."
"I thought you said no distractions."
"Well, I can't help that just looking at you is distracting enough." Hermione just grinned, moving behind him to wrap her arms around his waist and rest her cheek between his shoulder blades. "I love you."
"I love you too. Any particular reason you were thinking about babies?"
"Well, technically I was thinking more about making them than having them. You've lost your touch."
"You know I try not to pry."
Hermione smiled softly. "I know," she whispered.
They had made a silent agreement to not use their bond too much. They were grateful it was there, of course, but there was no real reason to use it in their day-to-day lives. They'd continued to visit Miss Greenwood, but as a couple this time. She was thrilled to see that they'd worked everything out, though she tried to keep things as professional as possible. Following that was just an increase in communication so that they didn't need to use the bond to see what the other one was feeling, but every once in a while, when something really strong came though, it was hard to resist.
Harry slid the last pancake onto the plate while Hermione brought two mugs of coffee to the table. Once they sat down, Harry made Hermione take the first bite.
"You've got to! It's your birthday!"
"No, you just want me to be the one to eat them if they're awful!" Hermione laughed, nudging Harry's shoulder from her spot next to him, but cut off a chunk of one of the jam-filled ones and carefully chewed. She let Harry sweat it out for a few seconds, then a smile came over her face. "They're really good."
Harry's eyes widened in genuine surprise. "Really?"
"Mmhmm."
"You know," he replied after he'd eaten nearly half of one in a couple bites, "I think these are even better than the ones you made us in Grimmauld Place."
Hermione snorted. "I'm offended, Harry. That was my best culinary work. The atmosphere didn't do it for you? Or were you too worried about realizing that you were madly in love with me to really appreciate the effort?"
"I didn't-!" Harry began, then quickly gave up. They had been over this way too many times for it to ever make a difference. He could still remember it now.
"I think I like Hermione."
"You think? "
And his explanation: "I've thought about kissing her before, but… that's normal isn't it?"
How could he have been so oblivious?
Not that it mattered now, of course. He could kiss her whenever he wanted now. Which he did. A lot.
They ate in silence for a couple minutes until Hermione said, "Oh! I did want to do some rearranging in the extra bedroom. I know we don't have anything really planned for it just yet, but-"
"Are you trying to talk about babies again?"
"No! No, I wanted to get a new bookshelf. And all the stuff we have in storage in there is just taking up way too much space. We could just use a shrinking charm on it all and put it in the corner, and then just imagine how much more room we'll have! Maybe we could even get some more plants in there!"
"Hermione, you've killed every single plant we've had since we've gotten married," Harry laughed. "I don't think that more would be a good idea."
"I just think we need some color in there."
"Why don't we paint, then?"
Hermione paused, fork midway to her mouth. "Paint?"
"Yeah." Their old flat had a policy against painting, and they didn't want to risk anything even with magic, but they could do whatever they wanted here.
"Neither of us know how to paint, Harry."
It never ceased to amaze him after all this time, how every once in a while, she would forget. "We don't need to know how to paint," he stated.
"Oh. Right." Hermione fought back a laugh. "That's a brilliant idea, though."
"I do have those every once in a while."
Once the pancakes were gone and the dishes were cleaned up, Hermione decided she wanted a bath, and while Harry was running it for her, she had already started in the guest room. Harry should have known better, really. She started off wanting to not leave the bed all day, but as soon as she got up and had some food and coffee in her, she was ready to get to work. He loved that about her, honestly, and was glad it hadn't changed since she'd become an adult. Most of the time, it kept him motivated.
His job was to help her relax, something she routinely forgot to do. Which was why he'd filled the tub with bubbles and rose petals, scented beads and a bath tray with the book she was currently reading already set on it (with a waterproofing charm, too, of course), and set it with a temperature stabilization charm.
By the time he called her that it was ready, she'd already redone her hair into a bun to get it off the back of her neck, but when she saw everything he'd set up for her, she brought a hand to her mouth in surprise. "Oh, Harry…"
"Is it okay?"
"It's perfect. Though…" she took a glance at him, "you might want to take the tray out."
"Oh." Harry frowned. "Figured you'd want to finish your book."
"Well, I do ," Hermione began, taking her hair down and stepping out her clothes, "but you're not going to have a lot of room if it's in there with me."
"M-Me?"
She smirked. "You thought I wanted to take one by myself?"
Harry was undressed by the time Hermione was settled down in the water.