He opened the door and found her chewing her bottom lip. Some things never change, he thought. She smiled at him sweetly, then walked past him, entering the room without noticing just how enchanted he was by the sight of her in front of him. The delicate and subtle perfume she wore assailed his senses while he closed the door behind him. Her eyes lingered once more at the two large pictures that hung framed over his sofa.
"Something smells delicious," she said, making a bee-line to the kitchen, to check what was cooking.
"You have no idea," he replied weakly.
"You're making Spaghetti Napoletana?" she asked.
"Yes," he said, reliving his trip to the supermarket and several small shops around Britain to get just the right ingredients. He had made the sauce himself, mixing a number of tomatoes with about a dozen herbs like coriander, thyme, and sage in just the right amounts. The spaghetti was home-made by his mother; a new hobby of hers meant to keep her busy now that all of her children had flown the coop.
Hermione took the wooden spatula and stirred the sauce a little as it bubbled merrily in the big pan he had put up over the fire. She turned the fire up, then hung over the saucepan and took a deep breath.
"It smells delicious!" she said, taking the spatula towards her mouth, "You always did make a killer spaghetti."
"Hey!" he said, snatching the spatula from her hands moments before her tongue touched it, "No tasting the food until it is served, young lady!" He shooed her away from the kitchen, Hermione huffing in mock protest. As he did, he quickly flipped the fire under the saucepan back down to minimal. No point in ruining a perfectly good sauce. Hermione had been too impatient with cooking. The water for the spaghetti was boiling. "I think dinner will be ready in about ten minutes."
After setting the spaghetti into the boiling water and adding a pinch of salt and a couple of drops of olive oil, Ron returned his focus back to Hermione. She was sitting on the sofa, her eyes fixed on the image of Harry. She was wearing her hair in a thick plait behind her back, which reached all the way below her shoulder blades. He crossed the room and sat opposite her.
"I've brought a gift," she said, looking suddenly unsure of herself, "Something small. Nothing special or anything. You probably won't like it."
"Oh, please don't hype it up any further," he said, "I don't want to feel all disappointed if it doesn't live up to my expectations…" She thrust the small parcel into his hands, looking coolly unimpressed, but unable to hide a bit of a smirk.
It was light and rectangular. For a moment, he thought she might have given him a book, but it wasn't heavy enough for that, and she knew him better than that. The wrapping paper covering it perfectly, as only a perfectionist like Hermione would be able to achieve. Ron's own abilities in wrapping presents were quite the opposite. Ginny had at some point just asked him not to bother any more. "I'd rather know what it is immediately, than having it appear out of this sorry mess," she had said, holding out the expensive vase wrapped haphazardly in dark green paper.
Ron carefully undid the wrapping paper, and when saw what was in it, he recognised it immediately.
"A homework planner?" he said, after the initial shock passed and unable to contain his laughter, "Y-You got me a homework planner? What am I, twelve?"
Hermione's grin was devilish. "I saw one laying around in Diagon Alley a couple of days ago. I couldn't resist. You should have seen your face."
Ron scowled. The present was rubbish, but he cherished it none-the-less. After five years and countless sleepless nights, he had never expected to receive a gift from Hermione, but here it was in all its worthless beauty. A homework planner for a grown man. A small, paper booklet that made infuriating comments and remarks if you wrote a task down in it, and didn't do it in time.
"I wrote something on the cover," Hermione said after their initial laughter died out, reaching in and flipping the book open on the first page. Hermione's handwriting had become more cramped and rigid than it had been at school. He fell silent after he had read her message.
"Dear Ron,
Forgive this total idiot for her past mistakes,
Put down your guard, and so will I,
The future can still be ours.
Love, Hermione."
His eyes roamed over her small handwriting twice before they sought her face. The message was one of hope and dreams. To him, it marked the passing of a significant chapter in his life. Was it possible to let all transgressions and acts of spite behind them? Was it possible to let go of all the fears and doubts he had, so they could start something anew; or rather continue something from the past?
For just a second, he had a mind of kissing her. To just forgo all their promises of baby steps and just reach out and reel her in. Surely, she would not mind. Not now, with her eyes focussed on him so intently, and biting on half of her bottom lip. One of his hands made to reach out for her, but just as he did, the homework planner intervened.
"Mustn't dally, mustn't wait! Do it now, lest it be too late!"
The air of romance between them broke. Hermione let out a giggle, while Ron diverted his hand towards his hair, pretending to push back a lock of his hair. Meanwhile, the pasta was over-cooking. He got up quickly, hastening to turn down the flames and prepare dinner.