Title: Knowing is Half the Batter
Author: romanticalgirl/Laura Smith
Disclaimer: Not mine. I just like to play with them.
Summary: Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice
A/N: For arianamama who requested Ron, Hermione and baking.
Ginny had once explained how the Weasley children thought – the twins thought in exclamation points, Percy thought in periods, Bill thought in commas, Charlie thought in ellipses and Ginny thought in perfect grammatical style. Ron, she had explained, didn’t think at all. He’d believed her at the time, though he’d pretended to take great offense. Now though, he’s disinclined to believe her as he’s thinking very clearly. The problem is, of course, that he’s thinking about Hermione and he’s thinking in very precise capital letters.
For example, right now he’s thinking that this is a Very Bad Idea. He often occasionally wonders if her Skirt has always been So Very Short. He also knows that if he complains, he’s likely be reminded in her Very Bossy Tone that they’re doing this For Harry, which means he has no right to complain.
Not that he’d really complain because, along with her skirts, Hermione’s shorts have gotten Indecently Short, and she’s wearing a pair now that he thinks used to be one of the pairs of her jeans that was Far Too Tight, because they’re snug and frayed and for really nicely around her bottom, that he is Not Noticing. He’s also not complaining because she’s wearing a t-shirt that he thinks was once his, but he’s now outgrown it completely and it just hangs on her, which he’d normally be annoyed with as her breasts have gotten to be Quite Nice Actually, but he’s really pleased because the apron she’s borrowed from his mum is cinched around her waist and the neck straps actually frame her breasts that, were he accused, he would swear he was Not Looking At, Are You Daft.
“Then, Ron, you add in the flour. Slowly.” She swipes the back of one of her hands across her cheek, leaving a streak of white powder. Ron is unsure what powder it is, as they’re using a batch of ingredients Hermione has brought from home. Not that he’d have known what they are any more than if they’d raided his own mum’s cupboards, but even if they are the same, they seem More Foreign because they’re Muggle.
She sighs as a lock of her unruly hair falls out of the clip she’d used to hastily pull it back nearly an hour ago when she’d started on this Unadvisable Endeavor. He knows Fred and George are in the other room, no doubt Extendable Ears in and eavesdropping. He also knows that, were they brave enough to venture into the kitchen, he’d be reduced to listening to them rib him unmercifully.
“Ron,” she sets the bowl very carefully on the counter then places her hands on her Rather Nicely Slim Hips, her left foot tapping on the floor. “I’m not asking you to do much. But you agreed that Harry would appreciate the cake more if we made it. Not just me, not just you. Us. Together.”
Ron ignores the Increasingly Embarrassing, Uncomfortable and Inappropriately Timed Reaction that accompanies Hermione’s explanation. “I know that. Us. Together.” His body responds again and he clears his throat, very carefully staring into her eyes and not letting his gaze drop to her Holy Christ, When Did Hermione Grow Breasts lest her gaze drift downward and she start wondering when he became unable to walk around his own mum’s kitchen without a hard-on. “I was just wondering if I should go out to the garden, and if there was a certain type of flower that you needed.”
Hermione smiles. “Oh, Ron. This isn’t Potions.” She points to a white bag with a bright orange label. “That’s flour. I need two and a half cups.” She gestures toward the measuring cups she’d explained nearly an hour ago. “I’ll keep stirring and you add it all slowly, all right?”
He nods, carefully measuring the newest white powder the way she’d shown him earlier. She’d had to explain it three times, as he’d had trouble retaining the information since she was standing Inappropriately Close to him. He watches her stir for a moment before slowly pouring the powder in, showing more caution that he ever has, except that one time in potions when he’d had to add firedrake blood to the bubbling toad excrement. “You’re sure this is going to be edible?”
“Yes.” She laughs softly, without a trace of the bossiness she displays in Potions. “And Harry’s going to love it.” She leans forward and rests a hand on Ron’s chest. He stares down at her with wide eyes as she stands on tiptoe and presses a quick kiss to his cheek.
“Er.” He blinks rapidly as she sinks back down and turned her attention to the thickening batter. “You’d probably best not tell him I helped until after he’s had a bite though, hmmm?”
“Oh, Ron. Harry knows you’re good in potions when you don’t have Snape lurking over you.” She wipes her hand across her cheek again, leaving another streak. “But you might be right.”
He sets the cup filled with flour down and reaches out, wiping the white from her cheek with his thumb. Her mouth opens as if to speak, but no words come out as he bends his head as if it is the Most Natural Thing in the World and kisses her.
When they break apart, Ron smiles down at her, noting that she has a white mark on her nose as well. He leaves it there, picking up his cup of flour and pouring it, slowly again, into the bowl. When she simply stands there, he reaches over and takes her hand, wrapping it carefully around the spoon. “Hermione? Stir.”
“Right.” She starts the process, her eyes not leaving his. “I really think Harry’s going to like his cake, don’t you?”
Ron nods and keeps pouring, rather pleased as he realizes this probably now officially made Hermione His Girlfriend. “I think he’s going to love it.”