Fulfilling Obligations (Harmione)

Chapter 30: Falling

Hermione crouched expectantly in front of the oven, eyeing the browning chicken inside with a rather hard gaze. So intent was she on her staring that she didn't hear the door to her - to her and Ron's - flat open.

"You here, Hermione?" Ron called out from the living area. Hermione didn't turn her eyes away from the cooking meat as she heard the already familiar chorus of Ron's entry: the slam of the door closing, the clinking of keys as they were dropped on the coffee table, the heavy thumping of his cloak being tossed over the couch, and the ever-increasing noise of his footfalls as he sought her out.

"Where - oh, there you are," she heard Ron say from behind her. "How's Mrs. Weasley doing today?"

Hermione refrained from rolling her eyes as she gave a small sigh. The continual greeting using her new surname was getting quite old. In fact, it had really gotten old after the first few days. It had been months since they had married, and she was still unused to it. On most days she still had to stop herself from falsely correcting him.

That would be Granger, Ronald.

"My day was fine," she murmured, still focusing on the oven. "How was yours?"

"Eh, same old same old," Ron said. "Though it would be much better if my wife would stop having a staring competition with dinner and give me a kiss!"

She heard the pout in his voice and she stood up, wincing at the cracking of her knees. She turned to Ron and chastely pecked his expectant lips.

"Sorry, Ron, I just don't want it to burn," Hermione said. "I want it just right."

"I'm sure it'll be great," Ron said affably, flashing her a smile. He pulled her closer to him. "I can think of much better things we can do in the meantime."

Hermione felt her cheeks redden slightly. "I don't know, I'm still working on dinner -"

"Don't worry about it," Ron said, still holding her by the waist. "It should be ready after we're through..."

Nope, still wouldn't be ready, Hermione thought, the urge to roll her eyes coming for the second time.

She pulled away from her husband with an apologetic expression. "It's not just the chicken, I've got other things to make as well," she said, turning away and pulling a pot from beneath the counter to prove her point.

"Well, okay then. Maybe for dessert then," Ron said cheekily. Hermione knew he most likely would've winked if she'd been looking at him.

She saved herself from answering by starting to mash potatoes with a blender. She heard Ron leave the kitchen and knew he had probably settled himself onto the couch to watch television, one of the few Muggle inventions he had an appreciation for.

Hermione continued blending for multiple minutes, welcoming the lack of any other noise, and finally stopped to scoop the potatoes into a serving bowl.

Just as she finished this task, she noticed a fine stream of smoke issuing from the oven.

"Damn it!" she hissed, grabbing a dishtowel and throwing open the stove. She fanned away the smoke and then sat back dejectedly as she scrutinized her now blackened chicken.

*************

"Come on, Hermione, it tastes great!" Ron said, taking a large bite of the meat as though to reassure her. Not that it worked - Ron wasn't exactly the pickiest of eaters to begin with.

Hermione nibbled at her own portion, which she had salvaged from the ruined chicken. She nodded mutely at Ron's compliment.

The only sound to be heard for several moments was the scraping of knives and forks.