Disclaimer: All writing on this site is for nonprofit, using it as a source to share stories with other aspiring authors.

Set during Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?"

Ron looked at the bowl. "I'm not really sure."

Hermione shot a glare at him. "I'm making cookies. Isn't it obvious?"

"Oh. Is that supposed to be cookie dough?"

"Ron!"

"What? It looks like brown globs to me."

"It's not done yet. Give me a minute."

Harry was keeping watch at the moment, but he couldn't help but turn back and look through the door of the tent, to where Ron and Hermione were seated. Ron was sitting on his bunk, taking a break from his radio; Hermione was at the table, furiously mixing flour and chocolate morsels into a bowl. He wasn't sure where she had found the chocolate-maybe she had a store in her bag, in case of Dementors-but he wasn't about to complain.

"Are you planning on cooking that?" Ron was asking.

"Well, you can't just eat raw cookie dough."

"Yeah, you can. Look. Accio." Ron waved his wand, and a lump of the dough flew toward him. He grabbed it and popped it in his mouth. "It's not bad, I suppose. Mum's is better, but she's had years of experience."

"Ronald!" However, she tried a piece of it herself, smirking.

"So, how are you planning on cooking that? It needs a stove, doesn't it?" Ron asked, an eyebrow raised. Harry was also curious.

"There's a charm..." Hermione started to explain a spell that equally heated whatever it was placed on. Harry was slightly impressed, although he knew he should have suspected as much.

And he was slightly excited for the prospect of cookies, as normal as they were.