She smells like cinnamon.
He doesn't understand much of what she says -and when she gets upset and starts talking quickly and using words outside of his vocabulary, he's learned it's best not to ask her to repeat herself-, but he can smell her from across the room. And she smells like Christmas, and flavored coffee drinks, and breakfast rolls. It kind of makes him hungry.
She looks like cinnamon.
Her eyes are that perfect warm shade of brown, and her increasingly bushy hair matches them perfectly. Her old dressing gown is even the exact same color. And, though she will never believe him, she is just as hot in this state as when she spends hours taming her hair and putting on her finest robes. Something about her now just seems…spicy.
He finally interprets enough of her teary rant to get that she's somehow managed to dump her mother's entire stock of cinnamon on her head. He thinks about telling her that it will be alright, that they can buy more, that she can just magic together the ingredients next time 'round. But she will never hear him in this state, so he takes action and wraps her up in a deep kiss. And she melts into his embrace and returns it eagerly.
She tastes like cinnamon, too.
A/N: A drabble written for #Ron-x-Hermione's "24 Days of Ron and Hermione" over at DA. The shortest piece I've ever written and submitted, clocking in at 221 words and only sixteen lines of text on my processor, excluding line jumps. I hope you enjoy it! -rushes to write things she actually needs to update-