“I love you from the bottom of my heart, but I don’t trust your cooking. Stay out of my kitchen,” Harry stated firmly.
“But I was only trying to help!” Hermione protested. “Besides, my cooking’s not that bad.”
“I’ve had your cooking, remember? A whole year’s worth of it. It is that bad.”
“That was ages ago!”
“That was two years ago.”
“Exactly! And I’ve gotten better since then, I’ve even taken cooking lessons and everything, and Molly’s been teaching me as well. Tell him, Ron!”
“Leave me out of it. I want to be able to eat later, the last thing I want is Harry hacked off at me.”
“Well if you want anything else later, you might want to rethink that,”
“She’s got you there, mate,” Harry laughed.
“Yeah, I know,” Ron grumbled. “She’s really not that bad now, though. She doesn’t burn anything unless she gets distracted, which doesn’t happen that much anymore. I’ve learned to stay out of the kitchen until she’s done cooking, unless I’m helping.”
“Fine, you can both help. Ron, you peel and cut up the potatoes. ’Mione, you mix the ingredients for the treacle tart, and put it in the oven when it beeps, it’s already preheating,” Harry ordered, deciding to see just how much Hermione had improved. “After you’ve done that, you can help me.”
“Yes, sir!” Hermione replied happily, and set to work. Ron just shook his head at his girlfriend, then set to work himself.