Work Text:
“Okay, then we need one and a half cups of sugar stirred in with the butter.”
“You could just dip your finger in there, my sweet little sugar plum.”
“No, you’re the sweet one, my ginger -bread man.”
Ron turned and shot a lopsided grin at Harry. “She calls me that ‘cause of my hair.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Right. Got it.” Beside him at the table, Ginny snorted a laugh. “You two aren’t planning to leave me with any appetite for the cookies you’re baking, are you?”
Ron shrugged unapologetically. “More for us, then.”
Harry turned to Ginny, who was flipping through her new Charms book, and changed the subject in an effort to tune out his nauseatingly-in-love best friends. “Are you looking forward to going back?”
Ginny’s brow furrowed. It hadn’t been easy, that summer, rebuilding any semblance of a relationship after being apart for a year, and a part of Harry had considered returning to Hogwarts just to salvage the momentum they’d been slowly gaining, but Kingsley’s offer to start Auror training without the typically-requisite NEWTs was too good an offer to pass up. He knew it was, because Hermione had accepted his and Ron’s decisions not to finish school without any argument.
“It’s weird, really. If we’d had Quidditch last year, I’d probably bail out with you and Ron, but I need my seventh year to show off to the scouts.”
“And for your education, of course,” Hermione put in from the stovetop.
“Of course,” Ginny echoed, before giving Harry a conspiratorial eye roll. “Plus...I dunno. I don’t want to remember Hogwarts the way it was last year. And I don’t want my last memories to be of the Battle.” She sighed. “It’s a silly reason to go back, I suppose.”
“I don’t think that’s silly at all.” Ron slid the tray of cookies into the oven and then took Hermione’s hand to lead her from the kitchen. “Where are you two going?” Harry asked.
“To snog while the cookies bake,” Ron replied matter-of-factly.
Harry groaned as they disappeared and dropped his head to his arms on the table. “It’s not just me, right?” he muttered. “They’re disgusting.”
“It’s just you,” Ginny laughed, “because they are totally taking the mickey.”
Harry raised his head to look at her. “What? You don’t think they’re really sneaking off for a snog?”
“Oh, that they definitely are. But you don’t really think they call each other those goofy pet names, do you?”
“I guess I just assumed they were making up for lost time or something.” Harry cast a longing look over at Ginny, who had gotten quickly reabsorbed in her book in a fine imitation of Hermione. “But yeah, your reason makes much more sense.”
If the proper bake time for a sugar cookie were any longer, Harry would have had serious qualms about hiking up the stairs to Ron’s room to retrieve them, but he reckoned he wasn’t likely to be interrupting anything too intimate after only eight minutes. He stopped short a few steps from the top when he realized they had left Ron’s door cracked open and fought against the instinct to shield his eyes, just in case. But they seemed to just be talking, as Hermione’s voice floated out to the landing.
“I’m just going to miss you so much,” she said softly. “Maybe I don’t need to go back.”
“I’ll miss you too, love, but of course you’re going to go back,” Ron replied. Harry hesitated; had Ron really just called Hermione love ? “Besides, I’ll be at every Hogsmeade weekend. You won’t even miss me.”
“I know you will, darling, but—“ Darling ?! “—I just don’t know if it’s really worth us being apart.”
Harry retreated back down a few stairs, suddenly feeling like the moment he’d accidentally overheard was much more intimate than if he’d walked in on them snogging. And apparently, Ginny was right—the silly nicknames were for him; the terms of endearment, the ones they truly meant, were just for them.
He made a point to stomp back up the last few stairs, calling as he did, “Ron! Hermione! The cookies are done!” He heard the shuffling from Ron’s room as they emerged, holding hands.
Ron gestured for Hermione to go first. “After you, buttercup.”
“Thank you, pumpkin, you’re such a gentleman.”
As Harry followed them back downstairs, he smiled to himself. He was happy that they were finally happy, and perhaps they weren’t so disgusting after all.