The Wand of Ravenclaw

The Best of Times, The Worst of Times

Harry was on tenterhooks all evening. He couldn't decide which set of feelings was worse; the highly anxious set where he didn't know quite what to expect, or the terrifically excited set where he still didn't know what Hermione had planned but was eager to find out just the same. What did concern him was the frequency of highly impure thoughts he kept having.

He remembered during fourth year Ron having, what recovering alcoholics call, 'a moment of clarity' and realising Hermione was a girl. Harry felt he was experiencing something similar. He had never noticed before the succulently seductive sway in Hermione's hips, something which surprised him greatly as he'd noticed it in other girls. It was mesmerising and he knew Hermione had caught him gawping at her several times during the course of the day. He tried to drive it from his mind first by thinking about Horcruxes, which proved too frustrating to concentrate on, then by polishing his broomstick which he had transported, along with all his other possessions, to Grimmauld Place when he had left Privet Drive. The action of polishing, however, caused Hermione to burst out laughing and Harry, quickly cottoning on, packed away his things and sat in an embarrassed silence until they had dinner.

They had something of a minor feast that evening. Plates of sausages, chicken, steak, peas, chips and several other things Harry weren't quite sure of filled the kitchen table. Hermione looked very pleased with herself; she had asked Mrs Weasley to teach her the spells which made food cook itself, and this was the first time she had got it right. Harry, who had learned that people liked to be appreciated after hard work, offered his praise.

'Wow, Hermione,' he said. 'This looks superb. It's like a mini-Hogwarts.'

'Thanks, Harry,' she beamed. 'That's exactly what I was trying for!'

Harry, finding himself oddly undone by her radiant smile, merely grinned back and sat down. He pulled several of the plates towards himself and began to fill the platter in front of him. After tentatively sampling several of the wares on offer he quickly discovered that it all tasted quite as good as it looked. Hermione was wearing a sort of waiting-for-approval look and Harry swallowed quickly.

'This is great,' he smiled. 'One day you'll have to teach me to cook like this.'

'Like you'd stand over a stove with me for hours while I showed you the fine arts of grilling and boiling!'

'I might,' said Harry shrewdly. This time it was Hermione who looked disarmed, an effect that made Harry's insides do somersaults.

'Well...' said Hermione trying to regain composure. 'If we get time, you know after Voldemort is done away with, maybe I'll try and teach you. That isn't the best stove in the world, though. It's a bit of a death trap actually.'

'Planning to stay for a bit once I've saved the world, are you?' asked Harry, grinning.

'Oh well - I just meant...'

'I'd like it if you did,' said Harry more calmly than he felt. 'It'd be nice to have some company...only if you wanted to, obviously.'

'You - you want me to live with you?' said Hermione, unable to hide the flicker of a tremble in her voice.

'Well I...er, didnt mean live with...but then again, I can't cook,' said Harry bumblingly. 'And you wouldn't want me to die of starvation, would you?'

'Of course not,' said Hermione brightly. 'Plus you might need someone to gloat to once the paper starts calling you the Boy Wonder Who Saved the World or something.'

'I quite liked SuperHarry,' said Harry. 'It's got a nice ring to it.'

'We'd have to find you a cape, though,' said Hermione thoughtfully. 'And some kinky red boots. Maybe Fred and George have got contacts in the fashion world. And, of course, you'll have to wear your underpants outside your robes.'