"It shouldn't be this hard," Ron grumbled to himself as he stared at the assemblage of various containers and food items. He was Molly Weasley's son after all. Nobody would have guessed the he was so inept at something that his mum was famous for. At one time she easily prepared three meals a day for seven people. How was it, then, that he couldn't manage a simple breakfast for two?

Ron sighed and stared at the two blackened squares that had started off as slices of bread. "Barmy muggle toaster," he groused, glancing over at the offensive appliance. He only attempted to use it after his use of the cooking charm resulted in setting the first set of pieces on fire. "Not that it made much of a difference."

Turning away in disgust, he examined the plateful of eggs that he had fried up on the cooker. Well maybe fried was a stretch of the imagination. Ron used a fork to lift one, grimacing as a clear dribble of gooey slime ran off the plate and onto the table. "Bit on the runny side." Peering closer, he reached forward and carefully plucked a sliver of a shell out of the yolk. "Well that wouldn't have taste very good," he snorted, shaking his head.

Leaving the eggs to congeal, he focused on the one thing that he hadn't managed to mess up. "Well that alone isn't much of a breakfast," he realized.

He had wanted to surprise Hermione with breakfast in bed. Bringing his hand up to his face, Ron was once again awed to see the simple gold band resting snugly on his finger. Was it only yesterday morning that he and Hermione exchanged vows in front of their family and friends? It felt like a dream, but Ron knew that it was very real. His thoughts drifted to the night before and he smirked, noting that it was a rare event for him to wake before Hermione. But considering how long into the night they celebrated their new union, he wasn't entirely surprised.

Ron was more confused as to why he was up so early in the morning. Waking just before dawn, he spent a good part of an hour just watching Hermione sleep, nestled comfortably at his side. That gave way to an overwhelming desire to surprise her with breakfast. Hermione never had time to grab a proper meal before leaving for work in the morning, not that either of them were well practiced in cooking charms. Hermione did have an advantage when it came to the muggle devices. However, with her busy schedule she rarely had the opportunity to make use of them. Their meals consisted mainly of various take away restaurants, much to Molly's horror, who insisted on sending them roasts and stews on a weekly basis.

"Well this surprise has gone to rot," Ron said with a disappointed sigh. "Unless…" He looked up at the clock and blinked, a slow grin tugging at his lips.

Ron carefully made his way into the bedroom carrying a tray laden with two plates of steaming food. Perching at the edge of the bed, he placed the tray on the floor and gently ran a finger down the slope of Hermione's nose. "Hey there sleepyhead, time to wake up."

Hermione stirred, stretching a bit before her eyes open halfway to gaze at him sleepily. "Wha'times'it?"

"Just after eight," Ron replied.

Hermione moaned, pulling the sheets up to her chin. "It's too early." She yawned and her eyes fluttered shut involuntarily.

Ron grinned and leaned forward to place a kiss on her cheek. "I brought you breakfast in bed," he paused just a bit before adding, "Mrs. Weasley."

Hermione's eyes opened once again, this time her expression cleared as she studied her husband. Although he was fully dressed, Ron's appearance was anything but tidy. His hair was horribly mussed and coppery stubble covered his cheeks and chin. He was, Hermione decided, absolutely adorable. "You're entirely overdressed, Mr. Weasley."

Ron's eyebrow rose. "Is that so?"

Hermione nodded. "You're wearing clothes," she informed him. Pulling the sheet away from her body she peeked underneath and shook her head. "And I'm not."

"Cheeky witch," Ron growled, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. They rolled around on the bed kissing and laughing as Hermione unsuccessfully attempted to rid Ron of his jumper. It wound up caught over his head and blinded from it, Ron misjudged his position on the bed and tumbled onto the floor with a muffled curse.

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked, between fits of giggles.

"Bloody marvelous."

"I'll say," Hermione replied with a wink.

Ron scrambled to his feet and tugged the jumper off, tossing it at her. "Here…since you wanted it so badly."

"That's not what I wanted and you know it," she rebuked. Nonetheless, she pulled the warm shirt over her head, taking a moment to smell the well worn fabric. She smiled, able to detect faint traces of their laundry detergent as well as an earthy, heady scent that was uniquely Ron. "Now you mentioned something about breakfast."

"That I did," said Ron lifting the tray onto the bed as he settled beside her.

"You…You made this?" Hermione asked, her tone doubtful. Sitting before her were two identical plates of food. Each had two eggs cooked to perfection, golden brown slices of toast and a handful of fresh, ripe strawberries.

"Well I…" Ron rubbed the back of his neck. "No, not those," he admitted ruefully. "I did try, though. But the toast came out a bit dark."

"Dark?"

Ron nodded. "And the eggs a bit runny?"

Hermione grimaced. "Runny?"

"And…er…crunchy?"

"Crunchy?" She shook her head. "Ron, how could eggs possibly come out 'crunchy'?"

"You don't want to know," he replied. "Anyway, I popped on over to The Burrow and asked Mum to fix us some plates."

Hermione laughed. "You went to The Burrow? Looking like that?"

"What?" Ron ran his hands through his hair, doing little to smooth the unruly ginger locks. "Mum was surprised to see me, though; figured we'd be 'indisposed' for the next few days and wasn't expecting a visit any time soon." He paused, grinning as Hermione blushed slightly at his suggestive tone.

"This is great," Hermione said, nibbling on a piece of toast. "And a wonderful surprise," she added, kissing his cheek. "Remind me to thank your Mum when we're done with being indisposed."

"Hey, I made the strawberries," Ron noted, proudly. "Well obviously I didn't make them, but I'm responsible for them sitting there on your plate."

"Oh well… how very clever of you," Hermione teased, selecting a piece of the fruit. She placed it between her teeth and crooked a finger at him.

Ron obliged, ducking his head and neatly biting into the offered half, pressing forward until their lips met in a kiss that tasted of Hermione, strawberries and… He pulled back rather abruptly, slowly chewing on the piece of fruit, a look of consternation on his face.

"That's terrible," Hermione said after a long moment, cringing as she swallowed.

"There's no way to mess up fruit," Ron said defensively, belatedly wishing that he had brought some tea to wash the awful taste out of his mouth. "It's foolproof. No cooking charms needed whatsoever."

"But I had some of the strawberries yesterday and they tasted fine then," she disagreed.

Ron sighed. "Hermione all I did was remove them from the container, wash them in the basin by the sink, dry them off and place them on the plates. It was as simple as that. What could I have possibly done wrong?"

Hermione clapped her hands across her eyes. "The basin by the sink?"

Ron nodded.

"Ron, you washed the strawberries in Crookshanks' bathwater."

"Oh, bloody hell!"