1999
“Doing it this way makes it unnecessarily difficult, Hermione.”
“Oh come on, Ronald. It adds to the fun.”
“I am not having fun.”
“Well, I am and don’t you want to make me happy?”
Ron let out a groan and got back to mixing in the flour of the second batch of biscuits they were making. They had been at this for about an hour now, Hermione insisting they needed to bake the muggle way. Ron didn’t really understand why, but she had promised it would be fun. For once in his life, he came to the conclusion that Hermione Granger - brightest witch of her age - was terribly wrong. Nothing about this was fun. In fact, it was extremely inconvenient - it takes a lot longer, includes a lot more steps and there would be a lot more bowls in need of cleaning later.
Ron was not having fun, but you know what they say, anything to make the girlfriend happy. He knew Hermione was stressed, because of what was happening in her parent's living room at the moment. The Grangers had invited the Weasleys over to become better acquainted. Arthur had been over the moon when they got the invitation, finally able to talk about his love for muggle artefacts with actual muggles and hoping someone could finally explain certain technicalities. Harry and Hermione had given up on that a long time ago. Molly was just as excited and prepared one of her many delicious pies to bring along. So why Hermione had insisted on baking biscuits as well, Ron didn’t understand.
His parents had arrived just before they had started their Seamus-in-potion-class-like baking session.
“Do you think we should be with them?” Hermione finally asked
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Just in case they hate each other?”
“‘Mione, please. It’s not like they have never met each other.”
“I know that, but this is important.”
“Is that so,” Ron smirked. He took a step towards Hermione, closing the gap between them. He placed a hand on her waist and pulled her closer, “and why is that?”
“Because of you,” she whispered, “I want them to get along.”
He kissed her then. It was gentle and reassuring and when they pulled apart he rested his forehead against hers, “It’s gonna be fine, love,” he whispered.
She smiled at him, “you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Then get back to work,” she spoke and pulled away, pushing him back.
“Yes ma’am,” he saluted and went back to mixing in the flour.