Flour, Laughter, and Love
After finishing the apple, Fleur’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she grabbed Hermione’s hand, practically bouncing with excitement. “Come on, ma chérie,” she exclaimed, tugging Hermione toward the palace with an infectious grin. “We’re going to bake a cake! I found the most amazing recipe, and I have to try it.”
Hermione raised an amused brow, allowing herself to be pulled along like a reluctant yet amused parent indulging a child’s whim. “A cake? After what happened last time?” she teased, her voice carrying a playful lilt.
Fleur shot her a dramatic pout, though the sparkle in her blue eyes betrayed her amusement. “That was an accident,” she protested. “This time, I have a flawless plan. You’ll see!”
“Flawless, you say,” Hermione murmured, her tone skeptical but warm as she followed Fleur through the winding palace halls. “If this ‘plan’ ends with the kitchen in flames, I’m assigning you permanent supervision when near an oven.”
Fleur laughed, tugging her wife along with renewed vigor. “Trust me, Hermione. You’ll be eating your words when you’re eating my cake!”
When they finally arrived at the palace kitchen—a grand space filled with gleaming counters and state-of-the-art appliances—the royal chefs froze mid-task, exchanging surprised glances. The sight of the Empress and Duchess stepping into their domain was as rare as a comet. With knowing smiles and respectful bows, they cleared the room, leaving the couple to their baking adventure.
Fleur immediately dove into action, bustling around to gather ingredients. Hermione leaned casually against the counter, arms crossed, watching her wife’s whirlwind enthusiasm with an affectionate smile. Fleur’s energy was irresistible, and Hermione loved seeing her so utterly in her element, even if that element often bordered on chaos.
As Fleur rummaged through a cupboard for flour, Hermione stepped closer, slipping her arms around Fleur’s waist from behind. Fleur gasped softly, pausing her search as Hermione’s warm embrace steadied her.
“You’re not doing this alone,” Hermione murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of Fleur’s head. “Whatever mess you get us into, we’re in it together.”
Fleur leaned back into her wife’s arms, her voice soft with emotion. “How did I get so lucky, mon amour?”
Hermione smiled, her voice low and teasing. “Luck had nothing to do with it. You practically trapped me with that charm of yours.”
With their tender moment shared, they began their culinary escapade. Fleur took charge, measuring flour and sugar with uncontainable enthusiasm, while Hermione cracked eggs with calm precision. Their teamwork, though unconventional, was surprisingly seamless—until Fleur, her mischief returning, flicked a pinch of flour at Hermione.
Hermione paused, arching a brow at her grinning wife. “Really?” she asked, her tone full of mock authority.
“What are you going to do about it, Empress?” Fleur teased, her laughter bright and daring.
Hermione’s response was swift but playful—she dusted her flour-covered hands across Fleur’s nose, leaving a white streak on her face. Fleur burst into giggles, and soon both women were dusted with flour as their impromptu baking “battle” filled the kitchen with laughter.
Despite the chaos, they managed to get the cake batter into the oven. As it baked, they leaned against the counter together, catching their breath from the flour fight.
“Admit it,” Fleur said, nudging Hermione playfully. “You’re having fun.”
Hermione rolled her eyes, though the soft smile tugging at her lips gave her away. “Fine,” she conceded. “Maybe a little.”
Fleur grinned, her expression triumphant as she leaned in to kiss her wife softly. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
When the timer finally dinged, Fleur eagerly retrieved the cake. It was slightly uneven and just a bit overbaked, but neither of them cared. They stood shoulder to shoulder, admiring their creation like proud parents.
“Perfect,” Hermione said softly, draping an arm around Fleur’s shoulders.
Fleur leaned into her, smiling up at her wife. “Because we made it together.”
Hermione nodded, her heart swelling with love. “Exactly.”