Tea and scones. There was no denying that Harry and Hermione, no matter how hard they tried, were muggles at heart. On their first date, Harry had taken her to a café that was down the road from his old school, apparently one of the few things that had made living with the Dursleys bearable, when they’d still given him some meagre pocket money. It had been a lovely little place, with a woman who seemed to know Harry well and who gave him a discount. There’d been a warm glow in the room, until the powercut, and the candles had been both beautiful and romantic. Hermione found herself immensely grateful that the war was over and they could steal these moments.

When she’d agreed to a second date, he had invited her to his house instead, and had promised to cook. Hermione had felt like she was walking into her own home when Harry had opened the door for her, pulled her into a hug, and invited her into a kitchen that smelled undeniably like fresh baking.

The room was full of scones, and now that she got a closer look, Harry was up to his elbows in flour. There was some on his nose too, and she couldn’t stifle a laugh, as she cupped her hand over her mouth, and took in the kitchen. There were scones on the table, scones on the shelf, even a couple on a little plate on top of the microwave.

The only place that seemed to be free was the hob, where a Gryffindor red kettle was whistling quietly, just letting them know that the tea was ready. A pair of white teacups lay beside it on a cool circle, with a pink rose that, turning around to check on the kettle, brought the most adorable blush to Harry’s cheeks.

“You do know it’s just two of us, Harry.”

“Well, I thought you might like to take some home with you for your parents…”

He almost stammered. Hermione didn’t think she had ever heard Harry stammer before. The blush intensified, and he swept up the rose as though to distract them both, rolling it between his fingers before leaning in with a polite clearing of his throat. Hermione nodded her permission, and he slipped the rose in behind her ear, pushing her tawny hair out of the way and lingering a second too long. When he drew back that cheeky look was back on his face, and Hermione couldn’t help but lean in herself, closing the gap once more to kiss him once, gently, on the cheek.

“You were never this sweet in school.”

Harry shrugged, grinning and pouring the tea, wiping the back of his hand across his face and covering himself in flour. The only part of him that didn’t seem to be white was his apron; there were even flecks in his hair, and on his glasses. Hermione crept up behind him, taking the cup from his hands and plucking a scone from a cooling rack. Harry spun around, hoping to catch her, but she was already leaning across from him, taking a bite of the scone. He smiled once more, lifting his own mug to his lips and answering her statement.

“I never had this much spare time.”

Hermione looked behind, and cleared a small pile of recipe books to one side to use as a coaster and finally, as Harry pushed his hair out of his eyes and just simmered, blushed herself.

“Here’s hoping we have more of it.”