He taught her that pancakes did not always have to be perfect, bedtime did not always mean sleep, and Sunday mornings were made for lying in bed until one absolutely needed nourishment. She taught him that mushrooms could taste well, books went together fairly well with a quiet night, and Sunday afternoons were made for family visits and get-togethers. It had been two wonderful, glorious, beautiful years of wedded bliss between the two. They grew in love each day. But like all marriages, and much like their own unique relationship, there were arguments.
Ron discovered how easily Hermione could calm down with a simple kiss. Hermione knew his tactic for this happened often. When she would bring work home, which was almost daily, he would try to lure her out of her study. First he would use a cup of tea to bribe her out. When that failed, he would give her an hour until he was back in the study with the simple "Hermione, come eat dinner." When that failed, he would go in to ask her a silly question, hoping to get some kind of attention. And when she complained that this was the fifth time that month she had to explain how the television worked to him, she would set her work aside to eat whatever meal they had. Time would get away from her until she realized the clock was almost ten, and she would frantically scramble and shuffle her way back to her desk to finish "just a few papers." Some nights Ron would beat her to bed, but most nights she heard his loud yawn and stretch coming from the living room, and she knew she better pack her things away and head to bed herself.
They were completely in love. In that love, they learned how to apologize and accept each other. She apologized for her lack of expertise in the kitchen and her nagging. He apologized for his taste in childish animated movies and his jealousy. She accepted his lack of manners just like he accepted her "beyond proper" manners.
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"Hermione, its bed time." Ron was confused as to why his wife was still shuffling through parchment. Her plate of dinner he fixed for her lay untouched on her desk in her study.
"I'm sorry, Ron. It's just this law I'm trying to revise is completely disordered and chaotic. I could write this much better." She paused and bit her lip. "That's it; I can't turn this slop in. I may be up all night rewriting it."
Ron rolled his eyes and stepped out of the doorway where he stood. "I'm sure the law is well written, love. And plus, it's a Saturday. Please come to bed." He shoved his hands in his pockets, the habit he developed during their third year when he was frustrated.
"Fine, just go to bed without me. I'll be up in an hour or so." She tucked her quill behind her ear and crumbled up the parchment she was working on.
Ron was defeated. He knew nothing would bring her away. He just wanted, needed, to spend time with his wife. He walked clumsily up the stairs and into their bedroom, muttering to himself. "I should have never put that damn room in this house!"
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An hour passed. Then two. Then three. Ron grabbed the clock to see the time; 4:32 am.
'This is mental,' he thought to himself. He sat up in bed, swung his feet over the side and shoved his house shoes on. He walked heavily down the stairs and to the study. He found Hermione on the floor with her papers lying around her in a circle as she waved her wand across each one. Then she tapped her wand and muttered a small spell, and the parchment began stacking themselves in a pile. He smiled watching this.
"You're done!" He walked in the room and leaned on a book shelf, crossing his arms and smiling. "I really miss you in the bed. Come on." He stood straight.
"Actually, I just got done with the first part of the law. It only took a few pieces of parchment." She stood up and grabbed the stack.
"Hermione, it's almost 5 o'clock!"
"And your point? Ronald, I have to have this written to be perfect! My job matters!"
"And my job doesn't?" His temper began to rise.
"Of course it does, I never said it didn't. You always put words in my mouth."
"And you always put your precious job in front of me." He walked out the room, angry. Then he had it. He swung back around until he was standing right in front of her. With one movement, he picked her up and carried her out of the room. He ran up the steps as her torso bounced behind his back. "You're coming to bed. You will lay right here beside me, you will sleep all afternoon, and you will not get out of bed until I tell you. Okay?" He threw her on the bed.
"Okay, master," she said with an eye roll, "will I be able to brush my teeth? Or would you rather I didn't because then dental hygiene may become too important." She sat up and glared at him as he paced around the room.
"Two minutes." He gritted his teeth and slunk onto the bed.
She stood up, walked into the bathroom, and slammed the door. Within two minutes, she reemerged and grabbed her pajamas, darting back into the bathroom as she did. Within a few more minutes, she came back and fell into bed.
"Fine. You're right. I should have come to bed. I'm sorry." Her apology came forceful, but he knew she just hated to apologize. "I really am exhausted." She rolled under the duvet to look at him.
"It's okay. I know work is important to you, but you don't have to rewrite every bloody law ever written. At least not on my time. Do it at work or when I'm on missions." He rolled to meet her and gently began rubbing her shoulder.
With a flick of wand, he turned the lights out. They said their goodnights and cuddled close. Silence fell on the room, and just as Ron was almost asleep…
"Ron, I'm hungry. I forgot to eat."
"Go make pancakes, and I'll owl mum to tell her we will not be coming over tomorrow because you're busy with work."
