Chapter Two:
"Happy anniversary."
"Ron, it's absolutely divine!" Hermione squealed walking into her candlelit dining room. A bottle of champagne sat decoratively on the table. "You did all this just for me?" She went to kiss him passionately on the lips.
"Actually Harry and Ginny helped me a little bit," Ron answered, getting ready for her kiss.
"Oh." Instead of kissing Ron she reached out her hand and adjusted a spiky leaf on the wreath hanging behind him.
"You bloody git," shouted a feminine voice but it was immediately cut off.
"Shh... Hermione is not supposed to know were here," whispered a voice Hermione recognised as Harry's.
"What was that?" she asked Ron, but he just studied a little smudge on the ceiling wondering when it had appeared.
"What was what?" he finally asked, looking right passed her head. Pink rose up his face.
"That noise in the kitchen." She walked across the dining room and reached for the kitchen door.
"While you're in the kitchen could you please get me a glass of water?" Ron quickly said, his voice a bit too loud.
There was a sound a scrambling and muffled curses. Hermione pushed open the door and studied the room. Several pots were sitting on the stovetop emitting delicious smells. Something was baking in the oven.
"Ouch Harry that's my foot," muttered a girl's voice.
"Sorry."
Hermione's gaze swiveled to the small broom cupboard in the corner. The door stood ajar and she could just make out a pair of feet sticking out.
She stalked towards it and the door quietly shut.
"What do we do? She's heading in this direction," Harry asked in a panicked voice. Hermione giggled.
"I don't kn- AHHHH!" A red blur flew from the cupboard screaming. Harry jumped out after it trying not to laugh. He had an old broomstick in his hand.
"I'm being attacked!" Ginny shouted, using Hermione as a shield. "Get it away!" She fearfully peered over Hermione's shoulder, parted a bit of bushy hair and glared at the cupboard.
"What the hell is going on?" Ron barreled into the kitchen, clutching his wand.
Laughing, Harry held up the broom and pointed at Ginny with it. "This fell on her and she freaked out. You should've seen it."
"It wasn't that broom. Something big and hairy attacked me. It was drooling and had really sharp teeth." Ginny slowly sidled out from behind Hermione. Her eyes never left the broom.
"There was nothing else in there besides us and the broom," Harry stated, tears of laughter began to roll down his face.
Ginny sniffed angrily and marched over to the broom in Harry's hand. "I know you had something to with it," she muttered to its bristles. "I don't have any proof but if I find out you were hiding that beast all along it will straight to the bonfire." Her voice was low and dangerous.
Ron looked like he was going to laugh as well but Ginny gave him such a nasty look that it was stuck in his throat. "Well I hope you're happy," she seethed. "Because you can't cook I will be traumatized for approximately five days, thirteen hours, and forty-seven minutes."
Everyone looked at her questioningly, including a small little spider that was currently scuttling across the ceiling.
"That's how long until my next therapy session." Her voice had a tone of finality so no one pushed the subject.
Seeing as this bit of story ended Hermione could get back to being angry at Ron.
"You asked your best mate and your sister to make a romantic dinner for your wife?" she chirped, as Harry and Ginny silently checked the food.
Ron's face burned pink. "They didn't make all of it. I cooked something."
"What was that? Did little Ronnikins boil water all by himself." Hermione knew that she was overreacting just a bit. But she had every right to. It was her anniversary and Ron wasn't supposed to screw it up like this. Murderous brooms, psycho redheads, it was like a bad soap opera.
For all the witches, wizards, and hags (coughvictoriacough) out there a soap opera is a melodramatic form of entertainment. Usually watched by women in their mid-thirties it is a way to fulfill every single one of their sordid, morbid addictions while also getting to watch beautiful men and women in stunning clothing make it all look like trivial child's play.
Ron's face was now redder than his hair. "Well... I... ummm... made mashed potatoes."
Well Hermione had to give him kudos. Going from screwing up toasting bread to making mashed potatoes was a rare accomplishment indeed. She had to remember to give him a gold star.
"Let's have a taster then," Hermione said, trying to rid the anger and annoyance in her voice. Harry bustled over with a red pot.
Ron stuck in his finger and pulled out a gob of potatoes. He held it out for Hermione. She licked it off while Harry and Ginny giggled uncontrollably.
Hermione tried not to spit it out by it was too damn salty. It splattered against the wall pegging the poor little spider previously mentioned.
"Water!" she howled, spitting and coughing. Ginny turned on the faucet on stuck a cup under the running water.
Hermione ripped in from her hand. The water was gone in a swift second.
"What did you do? Put all the salt I Europe in it?" she said, still trying to rid her mouth of the awful salt taste. Harry offered her a stick of mint gum. "Thanks."
"It wasn't my fault," Ron said defensively. "The salt shaker is pure evil. It pushed off its lid and it just came pouring out. Whoosh. I couldn't stop it. So than I added some water. You know because it dissolves salt. I guess it didn't work."
He shuddered as he looked at the salt shaker sitting there innocently on the counter smirking.
"The salt's fault?" Hermione's thin brown eyebrow rose.
"Not the salt's fault. The salt shaker's." Ron kicked his foot sullenly. "Harry you believe me, right?"
"Salt shakers are slightly... unmanageable," Harry said in a reluctantly agreeing voice.
"There," Ron said happily. "You see it wasn't my fault."
Ginny giggled and Hermione grinned. "You're so cute, Ron." She tickled his chin. "Why don't we go out to eat? I made reservations at a fabulous french restaurant. I had no clue you were going to do this. In fact I thought you were going to forget all together. Harry and Ginny can eat the food they made."
"Okay." Ron grabbed his coat and glared at the salt shaker.
After Ron and Hermione left Harry and Ginny sat down to enjoy a dinner of mac and cheese from the box, package brownies, and frozen corn.
"Imagine an evil salt shaker. What a hoot," Ginny laughed.
She reached for the salt shaker and shook a bit of salt onto her corn. Unexpectedly the cap fell off and salt snowed down onto her corn.
Harry and Ginny shared scared looks. They picked up the salt shaker and locked it away with the evil broom.
The End... for now...
A/n: I have to agree with Ron. Salt shakers are uncontrollable. Earlier this week a perfectly good burger was ruined because of the accursed salt shaker. There is a sequel in the works. "The Revenge of the Salt Shaker". And I promise that it will be even funnier than this one.