"I love you, you idiot."
"Mummy, can I have cookies?" said Hugo, playing with his fluffy giraffe on the floor. Hermione was lounging on the sofa reading a book, wrapped in Ron's arms. At the sound of her son's voice, Hermione looked up and marked her page.
"I don't think we have any in the cupboard, sweetheart. Unless Daddy bought some yesterday?" she said, looking at Ron pointedly. Ron went food shopping the day before and forgot to buy the basics of milk and bread. However, he managed to find space for some chocolate and cream. Ron's expression was apologetic yet adorable and Hermione couldn't help but see the young, freckled boy she'd fallen in love with.
"Did someone say cookies?" said Rose as she ran into the living room, gripping her pink fairy wand like it was a lethal weapon.
"Me did! Cookies!" Hugo exclaimed, exposing his milk teeth.
Hermione sighed at her children. They are so like Ron, she thought. Even their sweet smiles mirrored Ron's as he picked up both children and swung them round, laughing at their shrieks.
"Daddy! Stop it! You're crushing my magic wings!" Rose scalded, staring her deep blue eyes into her father's. With a chuckle, Ron put his children down and sat back on the sofa, wrapping his arms around his wife.
"Mummy, can we make cookies?" Hugo said his eyes bright with excitement. He had scrambled onto Hermione's lap and touched his nose to hers. This was his little trick – once he did this, everyone was putty in Hugo's hands. Hermione looked into her son's chocolate brown eyes and smiled.
"Tell you what darling, how about you two go to bed, as its past your bedtime already-"
"But, cookies!" Hugo interrupted, his face contorting with anguish.
"Hugo," Ron warned, raising his eyebrow at his son, "do as your mother says." Hugo nodded and hugged his mother, as a way of saying sorry.
"I was going to say," Hermione continued "that Daddy and I could make you some cookies and you can eat them tomorrow."
Rose and Hugo's eyes lit up and ran upstairs to bed, not wanting to ruin the opportunity to eat their father's homemade delicious cookies. Ron sat up and stretched his arms out.
"Well I see that my skills in the kitchen are needed." He said winking at Hermione as he stood up, flexing his muscles. Hermione chuckled at her husband as she stood and walked into their kitchen, and started to get out the ingredients.
"Do you know I was the best cookie maker in the whole Weasley family? Mine were even better than Mums, I'll have you know." He said, not bothering to hide his pride.
"I bet you never had the guts to say to your mother's face though." She said, leaning against the cupboard door.
"You think?" Ron replied, raising both eyebrows and rolling up his sleeves. He reached atop the kitchen cupboard for the large mixing bowl and grabbed Hermione's pink, flowery apron from the hook. Hermione giggled as Ron tied the silk ribbons around his waist.
'I know, I know; pink is sooo my colour,' he said as he ruffled his hands through his flame-red hair before washing his hands in the sink. 'Is everything out the cupboard?'
'Yes, Chef!' Hermione laughed at her husband as she saluted him from across the kitchen. They chuckled in unison and began to measure out and mix the ingredients.
As the cookies were baking in the oven, they sat at the little wooden kitchen table, with a pot of tea, looking out the small window onto the surrounding apple orchard. Ron and Hermione had always wanted a small cottage; somewhere Rose and Hugo could run around, fall down in mud and have a humble childhood. Being a Weasley, Ron had never been rich and therefore he was taught the value of money, family and being thankful for what he had; he wanted his children to experience the same. It was in this moment that he was so thankful for what he had.
PING! PING! PING!
Ron leaped up to bring the cookies out of the oven and inspected them – golden brown, but slightly gooey. He then looked at the various knobs and buttons on the oven to turn the alarm off.
Muggles, he thought. He turned, pushed and thumped all the buttons but the alarm simply got louder. If it got any louder, the children would wake up and that would be the end to a peaceful evening.
'HOW DO YOU TURN THIS BLOODY THING OFF?' he shouted in frustration. He pulled his wand out to perform a spell to silence the oven, or even blow it up, but Hermione grabbed his wrist.
'No, Ronald! This is our fourth oven this year! You will not blow this one up as well.' She let go of him and then pushed the button with a small image of a bell above it. The ringing stopped.
'See? You just need to read the manual.' Ron looked flabbergasted.
'Well, you're a woman after all. You'll know all about ovens.' He smirked at his last comment, knowing it would make her turn around and say something along the lines of, 'Ronald! Don't stereotype!' He simply loved getting her all riled up, her hair would get bushy and her cheeks would be bright pink, against her alabaster skin. She never looked so beautiful.
'Really, Ronald! Just because I am a woman, it does not mean that I know everything about ov-', she was cut off by Ron shoving a cookie in her mouth. The look of shock in her eyes turned to glee and she chewed and swallowed the warm, gooey, chocolate biscuit.
'I was so ready to yell at you for that, but the cookie makes up for it.' She giggled and went to place a cookie-tasting kiss of her husband's cheek.
And of course, being the cheeky man that Ronald was, he quickly turned his face so he could snatch the kiss onto his lips. As Hermione giggled, he wrapped his long arms around her and hugged her tight.
"Mmm yummy cookies" he whispered into her neck.
"Argh, you're getting crumbs on me!" Hermione laughed at the top of her voice. At this point Ron had started to tickle her, making them collapse onto the floor with a soft cookie crumb thump.
"Ahh, stop it Ron! Ahh!" she squealed trying not to wake up her two children. He giggled and released his hands from her quivering body. He hovered over her and watched her get her breath back, her cheeks all flushed. She's mine, all mine, he thought.
Her chocolate eyes focussed onto his deep blue ones and she let out a sigh of sheer contempt.
"I love you, you idiot." She said, as she kissed his nose.
"I know," Ron winked, as he pulled her up into a seating position. In all his years of struggling, of all the life-threatening adventures they had encountered, it was all worth it, to have his lovely wife kiss the tip of his nose.