A/N: For the Houses Competition. This is set post-series, in a future where Hermione restored some of her parents' memories. I've also given her father a name because it felt awkward to keep calling him 'Mr. Granger', and he does not have a canonically confirmed first name.
House: Ravenclaw
Year: 6
Category: Drabble
Prompt: Cooking with muggles as a witch/wizard
Word count: 867
Ron had known that going to Hermione's would be a bad idea. Her parents were Muggles, and they knew nothing of magic. Not anymore, anyway. Hermione had told him how she'd tracked them down in the months after the war, restored their memories of her, and her alone. She'd said that she'd decided it would do no good for them to know of magic, that they would only ask questions about school, and her friends, and her lessons - questions that Hermione wouldn't be able to answer. She wouldn't be able to tell her parents about the bloodshed, the death, and the tears. They could never understand.
Ron supposed that he wouldn't be able to understand exactly what Hermione was going through, either. His parents knew what had happened in that war; his parents had fought in that war. Even so, there were still some things that he couldn't talk to them about, things that, no matter how hard he tried, would always lodge in his throat. Still. It wasn't the same.
Anyway, mistake or not, here he was. Standing in the Grangers' kitchen, alone, facing off with something called an oven. At least, that's what he thought Hermione's father had called it. He wasn't completely sure; there were so many names for things. Hob, grill, toaster, oven. Spells made more sense than this.
Ron's fingers twitched towards his wand, but he managed to restrain himself. Hermione would probably kill him if she knew he'd been using magic in her parents' kitchen. Besides, he'd watched his own father experiment with magic on Muggle technology for years, and it never ended well.
Ron had just decided on turning every knob he could find and praying that it would work, when Robert Granger poked his head around the door.
"Oh! Not cooking yet?" He smiled, but his expression was slightly bemused, as if he couldn't believe that Ron was so clueless.
Ron ducked his head, feeling a blush creeping up his neck and cheeks. "At home, we don't, um, we don't have this… stuff." He waved his hand around the kitchen, still unable to meet Robert's eyes.
Robert's smile wavered. "You don't have a kitchen?" he asked, concern creeping into his voice.
Ron's head jerked up at that. "We do have a kitchen," he stammered. "It's just… Our - oven, and, and things, aren't quite as… modern."
Robert laughed, although he still looked uncertain. "This stuff's been here since we bought the house," he said, then he moved forward, gently nudging Ron out of the way. "Here, I'll show you."
Ron spent the next twenty minutes asking Robert questions about the many appliances in the kitchen, learning as best he could how to operate them. He'd never been a quick learner, but it was actually quite interesting. He could almost understand what had fascinated his father for all those years. Almost.
Eventually, Hermione walked into the kitchen, sighing when she saw the two of them crouched in front of the oven, which Ron had just managed to get working.
"You two having fun?" she asked wryly, raising an eyebrow.
Ron jumped to his feet, flushing in embarrassment. "Um, we were just, um…"
Robert laughed, getting up and clapping Ron on the shoulder rather harder than was necessary, in Ron's opinion. "I was just teaching your boyfriend how a proper kitchen functions," he said, a twinkle in his eye. "Tell you what, Hermione, you don't half pick the strange ones."
Hermione flushed, too. "He is not -" she started hotly, then broke off, clearing her throat. "He is not strange," she finished, quickly glancing over at Ron. "Just not much of a cook."
Ron's eyes widened, and he quickly looked over at Robert, who was grinning at him. "Yeah," he said, suddenly nervous. "Um… Didn't you say the, er, sauce needed heating?" he asked desperately.
Robert jumped into action at that, rushing about and handing Ron a bunch of ingredients. "I assume you remember how the stove works?" he said seriously, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Ron breathed a laugh. "Yeah, I think I've got it."
"Good," Robert exclaimed, banging a pan on the stove and reeling off a list of instructions that Ron followed, only half-aware of what he was actually doing. Once the pan was on the boil, he glanced back over at the doorway, where Hermione was still stood. She was smiling as she watched them cook together, and Ron suddenly felt a rush of affection for her.
Suddenly, Robert barged into Ron, grabbing the wooden spoon out of his hand and whipped the pan off the heat. Ron frowned, confused, but… Oh. The sauce had boiled over because, well, Ron really wasn't sure why, but it was probably something to do with the fact that he'd been staring at Hermione rather than paying attention to the food.
Hermione, who was now doubled over laughing, a fresh wave of giggles coming over her every time she looked at Ron. Watching her caused Ron to start laughing too, and Robert quickly followed suit, the three of them laughing uncontrollably.
Perhaps, Ron thought between breaths, perhaps this hadn't been such a bad idea after all.