Hermione Jane Granger was a very intelligent woman. She could read any book for the first time and still remember all of the important facts and most of the good-to-know and fun facts six months later. Hermione Granger could have, if she wanted to, come to an exam or test totally unprepared except for the cram session she had the night before, and still ace it and yet, she still opted to study six months prior the exams. Hermione's mind was also an amazing creation, as it worked faster than any other brain thus enabling her to answer any question directed at her or any other person at lightning speed, when it came to academics. She also had a gift for casting spells, as it was her who was able to cast a NEWT level spell during her fifth year at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Her intelligence was unsurpassed and all her teachers at Hogwarts would agree with that statement. They would also embarrassedly state that at times, they were often struck speechless or bewildered by her interest in learning and her brainpower. Hermione Jane Granger was without doubt, a very smart person.
However, she was not blessed with the skill of cooking. Cooking was something she didn't understand, the recipes did not jump up at her upon first look and though recipes are very similar to formulas for potions, Hermione would insist that they were both different and declare that formulas were the easiest of the two. At least, potions didn't have to taste good. Upon digging deeper into the reason of her failure at cooking, one would observe that Hermione Granger did not have an appreciation for food. After all, food did nothing for her, she only ate food when she felt the need to in order to survive. Food only made her fat and during her time at Hogwarts, she limited the amount of food she ate since she knew that the food she ate was made by, in her opinion, house elves enslaved to do the dirty work of wizards and witches without special benefits and salary. Hermione Granger did not love food, food was just there. Usually, when Hermione Granger cooked anything, she usually ended up crying and in a mess.
And this was how Ronald Weasley, her current boyfriend and fiance found her in the middle of the night, the night prior to his 25th birthday. She was sitting on the flour of the kitchen which was a tornado zone. Flour and sugar was all over the floor, cracked eggshells along with their yolks and whites were cast across the countertop, and Ron could have sworn that he saw sticks of butter sliding off the fridge door. Hermione's apron was in the sink, probably thrown in it by its wearer, and was stained with finger marks and melted chocolate. Ronald Weasley could see that his fiancee was also a mess, her hair frizzy but white with flour and her entire body stained with some sort of food.
He so wanted to laugh, but he couldn't because he could see that Hermione's body was shaking uncontrollably and her cries were not loud but still audible.
He walked towards her, careful not to step on any eggshells or black, brown stuff.
"Hermione?" he whispered, not wanting to scare her. She jerked up and noticing Ron through her tears, cried harder and drew her knees closer to her body.
He sighed and sat down on the kitchen floor with her, putting an arm around her shoulder, pulling her towards his body and slowly comforted her.
However, this did not go down well with Hermione, she shook herself out of his grasp and stood up, still crying and pulled him to his feet, almost painfully and slapped him out of the kitchen.
"Get out, get out! Go back to sleep! Tomorrow is your birthday! What are you even doing up? Get out!" she snapped at him.
"What? And leave you alone here in this mess?" he retorted back, eyes twinkling.
She glared back, "I'm fine! Just fine! Leave me alone! I am doing just fine!", she crossed her arms and stood her ground.
"Yeah right. I get up in the middle of the night, hearing bangs and crashes in the kitchen and burning, rubber smell. That is not fine." he was trying his hardest to sound angry but he was just too hard.
"I'm fine. The kitchen is fine. You don't think I can bake a cake myself! It's easy! It's like a formula for a potion! Simple! I don't need your help! And I definitely don't need you thinking I can't bake! I can bake like any other woman! I can cook! I have skills in the kitchen!" she ranted, picking up a wooden rolling pin and hitting him over and over again to make her point.
"I CAN BAKE! So, I don't need you undermining my baking skills! I don't need you getting up in the middle of the night, just because you're imagining you are hearing crashes and a burning smell! It's not true! I can bake! I can bake! I can bake!"
She looked so beautiful, her face ablaze with anger and glistening with tears and sweat.
Ouch! "LOOK AT ME, WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU, RONALD!" she hit him on the shoulders hard. His eyes snapped up to her face.
"If you can cook and bake like any other woman, then what is that smell?" he asked quietly, sniffing the air. Her eyes narrowed at him, as if daring him to say that he lied. But they opened wide when she too, smelt the burning, charred, putrid smell coming from the oven.
She wheeled around, snapped open the oven door and took out the burnt cake with her bare hands, since she had forgot about the oven mitts in the spur of the moment. She dropped the cake on the floor, over turning it and causing it to break into a million, burning, black pieces.
She waved her hands wildly, trying to cool it and blowing on it, when she looked around her. Her entire body tensed up, her eyes closed.
Uh Oh. She screamed, loudly and highly-pitched. He swore his eardrums would break, but he stood his ground.
Hermione collapsed for breath and crumpled to the floor and sat on a big piece of the cake, she jerked up and kicked it away, still holding her painful hands closely to her. She started crying.
He sat down with her and pulled her into his arms. Taking her hands and blowing it on it, he said "It's okay."
"No, it's not. I can't even bake a simple cake! The recipe. It's called the Easiest Cake Recipe! I can't even do a cake that is the easiest in the world! And now, my hands are burnt from this stupid cake baking." she cried, waving her hands madly.
She put them on the ground and onto more pieces of burnt cake. She gasped.
"I have cake all over my hands. I have cake all o-over my hands. This is so not ideal," Hermione bawled over and over again.
He continuously whispered that it was okay lovingly into her hair.
"No it's not, Ronald. Stop saying that it is. You're going to be a cake-less birthday boy. You're not going to have a birthday cake. And it's all my fault. My fault." she sobbed, tears pouring down her face.
God, how he loved her.
"And now, our trash can is full of burnt cakes. Our fridge is out of eggs and milk. We're out of flour and sugar. I can't even bake you another cake. You're going to be cake-less. And it's your birthday tomorrow. See. Tomorrow, when you get up, you're not going to have any cake. It's just going to be, Happy Birthday, Ron, there's no cake, sorry. And you're going to be so upset. It's going to be so unfair. You're going to be cake-less. You need cake. You have to eat cake. You need a cake on your birthday".
Did she just say 'cakes"? As in plural? I wonder how many she baked.
"And now, I'm so tired and I'm dirty. I'm a mess. I'm stinky. My hands hurt and are burning. I haven't slept in 24 hours. I'm so tired, Ron. My boobs are tender." Did not need to know that. "I haven't stopped throwing up all day and I can't even bake some stupid cake. My hormones are going out of control. And I can't even have sex with you tomorrow on your birthday." Damn it, I so wanted to live out my teacher fantasy.
Wait, why the bloody hell not? I don't care about the cake. But I need the sex. I need the sex. I want the sex.
Ignoring his exclamation of "What?" endorsed with anger and disbelief, she finished off with one sobbing statement before she passed out into her sleep from her exhaustion, "I can't even give you a birthday cake, to tell you that I'm pregnant."