Title: Domestic Tranquility
Author: Mousebird
A/N: This was written before The Half-Blood Prince came out, so, of course, there are discrepancies between canon and my own personal universe.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, and I certainly don't make any money off of them. I'm just taking them out for a walk. They'll be back in time for tea.
"Cheep! Cheep! Cheep! Cheep!" the clock chirped insistently. Good thing it's on the far wall, Hermione thought muzzily. Otherwise, Ron would have smashed it by now. She briefly contemplated a silencing charm, but opted to pitch her work boots at it instead―that being much more satisfying.
Shivering as the cold morning air hit her bare arms and legs, Hermione shuffled across the room to the chest of drawers. It was a bit scuffed up since Ron had found it at a wizarding shed sale, and it tended to mumble rude comments when it was disgruntled, but it was cheap and it worked.
As she pulled open the underwear drawer, Hermione wondered vaguely whether Ron had come home at all last night or if he were still out on the illegal potions raid with Harry. She yawned hugely. Having an Auror for a husband certainly did mess with one's sleep schedule, she thought absently. When a hiss emanated from the drawer her hand was currently fumbling around in, she withdrew it quickly and backed away, tripping over Ron's dirty discarded robes.
"What the ...!?!" she managed before she found her way to the end table where her wand was. Now much more alert, Hermione crept up to the underwear drawer and squinted at the jumbled pile of men's and women's underwear. Sure enough, a small, black rat snake was nestled securely in the middle of everything else. Its beady eyes were fixed squarely on her, and it seemed quite put out.
"Inconceivable!" Hermione huffed, and then laughed at the Muggle reference. She'd have to dig that up again sometime. Meanwhile, Ron was definitely going to hear about this. How did Molly ever put up with six of them!?! She slid the drawer shut on the bewildered snake and, gritting her teeth, scurried over to the laundry hamper, which Ron routinely ignored, cast a quick and dirty scouring charm on the first pair of women's underwear she found, and slipped them on. Thus armed, she marched purposefully toward the robe closet, determined not to inspect any of the other drawers in what was apparently the new animal storage chest.
"I'd just better find a clean robe, Ron Weasley, or so help me ..." Hermione muttered fiercely as she jerked the closet door open. The rusty hinges gave way and the closet door landed on the floor with a thump. Hermione grumbled some more, seized the first handy robe, slipped it over her shoulders and decided to leave the closet for Ron to mend.
At least he's done the laundry, she thought as she bound her fluffy brown hair back in a rough bun and snatched an apple on her way out the door.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
The snow was falling gently through the fir trees as Ron trudged sleepily up the path. He fingered the crinkly Twinkie wrappers he had in his pocket from the stakeout the night before. He'd better hide the evidence before Hermione got hold of it. Who ever knew that Muggles could invent such wonderful food and yet be so adamantly opposed to it at the same time. He yawned hugely and shoved his key in the lock. Anti-apparition wards were pretty standard for an Auror's home, but sometimes Ron really regretted the long walks they entailed―especially when he'd been up for over twenty-four hours.
Two hours later, Hermione arrived home to a pile of muddy, wet robes lying in the middle of the admittedly vile green carpet in the hallway. She sighed heavily as she mechanically levitated them after her down the hallway where she discovered their inevitable counterparts strewn in front of the refrigerator in the kitchen. The boots were drenched in a vile, sticky green slime that promised to leave an odor in the kitchen for weeks. "Aurors, I swear!" Hermione grumbled. "I should get some sort of hazard compensation for living with one!" She kicked the boots half-heartedly into the corner of the laundry room where the tiles were cracked anyway and dropped the robes next to the washing machine. She was damned if she was going to clean this up, but she didn't want it cluttering up her living space.
Loud snores emanated from the bedroom and food droppings left a trail right to a certain doomed wizard. "Ron!!" Hermione yelled in irritation, "If this is your bid to convince me that we need a House Elf, you've got another think coming!"
Ron rolled away so that his back was to her and snorted half-heartedly, covering his head with a pillow. "'Mione, can't a fellow get any sleep around here?"
"Not when you leave snakes in the underwear drawer!" Hermione fumed as she ripped his filthy, Auror-issue socks off of his sprawled feet and pitched them in the trash bin. Ron mumbled something rather incoherent that Hermione finally deciphered to mean that the snake was Harry's Christmas present and that Ron had thought the underwear drawer was the best place to keep it.
Hermione's face contorted several times as she passed from confusion to rage and finally settled on amusement. Ron flipped back over and squinted blearily at the laughing Hermione. "Wha's so funny?" he slurred.
"Oh, you, dear," Hermione said, when she could catch her breath. "If you ever, ever stow a live animal in the underwear drawer again, I'll kill you. Understand?" she asked, wiping tears from her eyes. Ron nodded numbly, dumbfounded by this response. "Women really are crazy," he thought. "Also, I absolutely refuse to clean up your uniform. Either clean it yourself or I'll burn it."
With that, Hermione shoved Ron over on the bed to make room and snuggled under the covers herself. Outside, the snow fell steadily, and Ron thought to himself that maybe this whole domestic tranquility thing was a bit of all right after all as he stroke Hermione's bushy hair. He kissed her shoulder and dozed off in the fading light through the window.