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HP443- Treacle Tart
🕑 Added 2025-06-11 13:09:29 +0000 UTCHello you all!
I know this arc leaned heavily into the romance side of things... eight girls (plus Astoria, naturally), but I didn’t want to skip over anyone. Doing so would’ve felt disrespectful to the relationships I’ve been carefully building since the beginning. Like 400 chapters...
Each connection has its own weight, its own rhythm, and skipping or skimming one for the sake of brevity felt like cutting corners on something personal. I couldn’t justify giving less time or depth to any of them for the sake of it. So I found the only solution that made sense, well at least to me, balance it out and give you everything at once.
I am mass-publishing 5 Valentine's Chapters. Best of both worlds. You get the full arc, the full and no one gets left behind.
Thanks for sticking. As always appreciate every bit of support! Couldn't do without you!
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Tracey was by the quiet edge of the village, sitting on the transfigured bench Harry had crafted years ago. Still held up better than most Hogwarts furniture. Covered in etched runes and warming charms, it stayed comfortable and toasty despite the snow all around. Wind didn’t bother it, either... another charm she'd insisted on.
When she saw him approaching, her whole face lit up. Not subtle about it. Harry smiled back, taking long strides through the snow-covered path, scarf flapping slightly behind him.
“You remembered where to find me,” she said as he stopped in front of her.
“You are sitting on a bench that’s more enchanted than the Firebolt. Not exactly hard to miss.”
Tracey patted the space next to her. “Still. You remembered.”
He dropped onto the bench beside her. “Wasn’t going to forget. You would've hexed me."
“True,” she said, tugging her cloak tighter. “You are late, by the way.”
He chuckled, slinging an arm around her shoulders and tugging her closer. The snow still drifted lazily around them, but Tracey didn’t seem to mind... it was warm enough on that bench, and she leaned into him without hesitation.
“Roads aren’t easy,” he said, voice casual. “Maybe we should work on them next.”
She looked up at him, eyes sharp but mouth curved. “I know you well enough to tell when you are not joking. You want to turn Hogsmeade into some sort of base, don’t you?”
Harry gave a low chuckle and flicked her nose. “I do. Planning to start shaping it up into a proper frontline over the next few months.”
Tracey tilted her head. “So what, you are going to fortify the Shrieking Shack? Dig trenches behind Honeydukes?”
“Don’t tempt me,” he said, grinning. “Zonko’s already has half the tools I would need.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course you’ve scoped that out.”
“I had time to spare.”
He leaned back against the bench, one boot resting on the opposite knee. Tracey shifted too, drawing one leg up onto the seat and turning slightly to face him.
“You are serious though,” she said, tone quieter. “You really think things will come to that?”
“I think it’s better to have the ground before someone else does,” Harry replied. “And this place is close enough to the castle that it matters. Wouldn’t take much to turn it into a fallback point.”
Tracey looked out at the lights twinkling from the distant shops. “Feels odd thinking of Hogsmeade like that. I mean, it is mostly overpriced snacks and badly spelled signage.”
“That’s what makes it perfect,” Harry said. “No one expects the sweet shop to be rigged with counter-hex wards.”
She gave a small smirk. “You are enjoying this too much.”
He shrugged. “Only a bit.”
They fell quiet for a stretch. Not awkward, just that easy kind of silence where neither felt the need to fill the space. The warmth from the bench kept the cold off, and a charmed lantern flickered nearby.
Tracey spoke again, copying his casualness, despite knowing how heavy the implications were. “So, when do I get to be briefed in?”
“You’ve already got your role,” Harry said, glancing at her. “The bench was your contribution, remember? You practically made it a command post.”
She grinned. “And here I thought I just wanted a nice view.”
“Two birds,” he said. “One heavily-warded, obscenely comfortable bench.”
“Right. And when the war breaks out, I will just sit here and look smug.”
“That is the plan.”
She stood and stretched, then pointed towards the tree line where a blanket had been laid out with a proper basket beside it. “You’ve eaten, so let’s get to desserts.”
Harry didn’t argue. He reached up, took her offered hand, and pulled himself up. “I will assume this is the ‘reward’ segment of the date.”
Tracey grinned. “Well, unless you’ve developed a sudden allergy to treacle tart.”
“That would be tragic,” Harry said, following her down the path.
The basket was well-packed—of course it was, it was Tracey. She’d slipped a Warming Charm on the cloth underneath and had even arranged the food like it was a magazine spread. Biscuits, small cakes, two jars of cream, and a solid square of treacle tart that Harry eyed like it might vanish if he looked away.
“You actually brought clotted cream?” he asked, eyebrows raised.
“I have standards,” Tracey said, pulling out two plates. “We are not savages.”
They sat down, the blanket just wide enough for the two of them to stretch their legs a bit. Tracey popped the lid off a jar and scooped a dollop of cream onto his slice before he even reached for it.
“You planning to fatten me up?” he asked, already reaching for the fork.
“Just balancing your harem diet,” she said. “Daphne feeds you lamb, Susan gives you fruit and facts, Luna probably hands you flowers and hopes. Someone has to offer real food.”
Harry snorted and took a bite. “It is good.”
“I know,” she replied, already biting into a biscuit. “I stole the recipe off the elves.”
They ate in peace for a bit, the sounds of Hogsmeade far enough away to be muffled. Snow drifted past the edge of the warming charm, melting just before it reached the blanket. The lamp nearby cast a soft circle of light, enough to make it feel like their own little corner of the world.
Tracey shook her head, then reached into the basket again and pulled out two small glass bottles of fizzy drink. “Butterbeer’s overdone. Try this.”
He took the offered bottle. “You laced it with something?”
“Just flavour. I am not that ambitious.”
They clinked the bottles together, a soft glassy tap.
“You know, the others will claim you had more fun with me,” she said as he drank. “And I will let them believe it.”
“You mean it will come up in next month’s drama briefing?”
“Likely. I might even plant the idea that I got a second kiss.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “You did.”
She giggled, sharp and cheeky. “Did I? I can’t seem to recall.”
Harry leaned forward with a mock-thoughtful look. “Then I would better remind you. For accuracy.”
Tracey swatted at him, laughing as she leaned back. “Hey, none of that now. Dessert first, scandal later.”
“Isn’t this already scandalous?” he asked, reaching for another slice of tart. “You lured me to a secluded bench under false pretences.”
“False?” she gasped. “Excuse you, I promised treacle tart. You got treacle tart.”
“You also promised calm,” he pointed out, licking cream from the fork. “Instead, I am navigating a harem schedule like it is NEWT prep.”
She nudged his shoulder. “Oh no, not the parade of brilliant women falling over themselves for you. However will you cope?”
“Completely,” he said, deadpan. “I might collapse. Tragic accident... ‘Boy-Who-Lived crushed under too much affection.’ Headlines write themselves.”
“Don’t tempt me to test that,” she warned, tossing a pillow off the basket and shifting to sit cross-legged. She stretched out, lying back on the blanket and folding her hands under her head. “If you ever need a PA, I wil consider it. But only if I get bribed with baked goods.”
“Duly noted,” he said, then added after a moment, “You know this spot is still one of the best ideas you’ve ever had?”
Tracey glanced up at the faint glow of their charms pushing back the frost around the tree line. “Yeah, I do.”
Harry finished the tart, wiped his fingers on a napkin, and lay back beside her.
“Think we will still be doing this in a year?” she asked, voice casual.
“Eating dessert in the snow?” he said. “Maybe. World permitting.”
Tracey rolled onto her side, propping her head up on one hand. “Not just this. All of it. Hogwarts, us, whatever this tangled knot of alliances is.”
Harry didn’t look at her right away. Instead, he watched a snowflake land on the rim of the lantern before melting away. “We will manage. Maybe not neatly. But it will hold.”
She gave a small snort. “Not exactly reassuring.”
“It is not meant to be,” he said. “It is just honest.”
Tracey seemed to accept that. She lay back again, shoulder brushing his. “Alright then. One more question.”
“Only one?”
“For now,” she said, brushing a crumb from her coat. “Who is the best snog?”
Harry turned his head slowly, narrowed his eyes, and didn’t even try to hide the flat stare. “Not answering that.”
“Oh, come on,” Tracey nudged him with her foot. “You’ve practically taken notes.”
He took another sip of his drink, then gave her a look that said she was pushing it. “You want a chart? Ranked by technique, or creativity?”
Tracey grinned. “I would settle for categories. Mood lighting, weather resistance, charm compatibility-”
Harry leaned in and cut her off with a kiss. Not rushed, not dramatic. Just a solid, well-timed kiss that shut her up properly. When he pulled back, she blinked, caught somewhere between smug and surprised.
“There,” he said, standing and brushing snow from his coat. “Log that under ‘effective interruption.’”
Tracey let out a low laugh, rolling onto her side to watch him grab his scarf. “Noted. That will show up in the next review.”
“I will brace myself.”
He offered her a hand. She took it, letting him pull her up.
“Luna’s turn, isn’t it?” she asked, as they reached the path.
“Mm,” Harry nodded, glancing at the sky. “She said something about 'follow the paper swans' earlier. I am assuming that wasn’t a metaphor.”
