Macaroni and Salsa, or Why Hermione Is Crying
Disclaimer: Yeah yeah yeah you know the drill: I don't own Harry Potter. Macaroni and salsa, with which I seem to be obsessed, belongs to Sammy Keyes. Which means… I don't own anything! Sniff. Poor friendless me…oh yeah. I own the plot.
A/N: I know I'm working on Welcome Back, Hermione, and I swear I'll update, but thanks to Beneeta, who gave me the idea! You're the best!
"Sniff."
"What's wrong, hon?"
"Sniff."
"Wha—, oh Merlin! The kitchen's full of smoke!"
Run.
"Um—Hermione? You can let go now."
"What if I don't want to?"
"I'm not complaining. Even if I did carry you all the way to the living room."
"Sniff."
"What's wrong?"
"Sniff. You'll think it's silly."
"I promise I won't."
Brown eyes narrowed. "Yes you will."
"No I won't."
"Don't make promises you can't keep."
"I'm a Slytherin, hon. It's my nature."
"You—you—you Slytherin!"
"Yes, I know. Was there anything else you wanted to say that I already knew?"
"C'mon, Hermione,"
"Fine!"
"…"
"…"
"…"
"Well?"
"Oh, all right, but if you laugh I'll—"
"Yes, Mione, I know you were the best jinxer in the DA and I know all the hexes you'll aim at me. So could you please skip the threatening list and get on with it?"
"But I wasn't finished!"
"Yes, and I'm sure you had a truly stupendous ending."
"Yes, as a matter of fact I did, it was—"
"So how about we skip it and pretend I heard it? I'll be suitably impressed."
"OH, you."
"Well…?"
"All right. Sniff. It's our anniversary."
"So? Why are you crying about that?"
Thwack.
"Ow! What was that for? I thought girls liked anniversaries."
"That wasn't what I was crying about."
"Oh. Well then, get on with it!"
Thwack.
"Draco Malfoy, you are the most annoying git I have ever seen. There has never been a more foul, loathsome, filthy, evil little cockroach with your total lack of manners and the fact that you—"
"I'm sorry."
Pout. "But you're not supposed to apologize yet."
"I thought girls liked it when guys apologized."
"Yes, but you're supposed to wait until I wound up to the end."
"Oh. Well, couldn't I just skip that?"
"But I had such a wonderful ending."
"I'm sure it was lovely."
"…"
"Anyway, could you please tell me what you were crying about? Besides the fact that it was our anniversary?"
"I already told you, I'm not crying about that!"
"Then what are you crying about?"
"Fine. Well, it was our anniversary—"
"I know that!"
Thwack. "Stop interrupting!"
"Ow! Fine!"
"Good. Anyway, it was our anniversary, so I wanted to do something special for you."
"Aw…I knew you couldn't resist my dazzling good looks for long—all right, all right, I'm sorry, just don't thwack me again, that bloody hurts!"
Sniff. "It's supposed to."
"You're a sadist, woman!"
Thwack. Thwack.
"Ow!"
"Good!"
"…"
"…"
"…"
"Well? Why were you crying?"
"Oh for the love of Merlin, will you never let that go?"
"Not until you tell me why."
"Oh," (mutters something about stupid Slytherin gits) "fine. The special thing I wanted to do—"
"Yes?"
"The special thing I wanted to do…"
"Uh-huh?"
"Argh! The special thing I wanted to do was…was…was…tcookyouaml."
"What?" (grins) "I didn't catch that."
"I said, I wanted to cook you a meal!"
"Oh."
"Oh, indeed."
"Oh."
"I know it's silly of me."
"…"
"Draco?"
"…"
"Say something!"
"…"
"If you don't say something, no sex for you tonight!"
"You wouldn't!"
"Try me."
"But I'm your husband!"
"So?"
"…"
"Draco! Say something!"
"I just did."
"Urgh! I mean what about the cooking?"
"…I thought it was kind of sweet."
"Oh."
"But why were you crying about that?"
"Because," (starts crying) "I was cooking your favorite meal, and, and, sniff, and, I burned it all!"
"So?"
"So I'm a horrible cook, and I make a horrible wife, and I can't even cook macaroni and salsa!"
Cries.
Sniffle.
Sob.
"Oh, Hermione…"
"What?"
"You're not a horrible wife."
"You're lying!"
"No. I'm not. Slytherin's honor."
"What does that mean?"
"Good point. Malfoy's honor, then."
"What does that mean?"
"You're a Malfoy now, so it all depends…"
"You're horrible!"
"Exactly. See? I'm horrible, therefore it doesn't matter whether or not you're a horrible wife. Besides which, you're not."
Sniffle. "Really?"
"Yes."
"Oh."
"Yes."
"I love you, Draco."
"I love you too, Mione."
"Good. Now that that's settled, Draco?"
"Yes?"
"Would you mind ordering takeout for us? We seem to be out of macaroni and salsa."
The End.
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