Prompt by
barmy-owl: One where Ron and Hermione are drawing ponies but Hermione gets really mad because Ron's drawing of a pony is sooo much better than hers?
Rating: K+
I’m warning you, this went somewhere else entirely. Oh, and Ron is super artistic in my world, so just go with it.
Also, this is unedited and typed up in a hurry.
Ron finished signing with a flourish of his quill and sat back with a satisfied smile on his face. Hermione, sitting across him, was still bent over her piece of parchment, scribbling and erasing furiously. She had insisted on using little wooden wand-like sticks she call ‘pencils’, and it was quite clear to him that her parchment was wearing thin with all the vicious rubbing she was doing. He wondered idly if she had forgotten she was a witch again, but she might just be trying to make a point.
He watched her impatiently flick stray strands of hair from her face. Eyes narrowed in concentration, tongue poked out slightly, and hunched over a table, she looked not unlike the little girl in the Gryffindor Common Room all those years ago, working diligently on her essays. He should know, he had spent many an evening watching her.
He smirked as she huffed in annoyance and reached for the ‘rubber’ again. It was an odd little thing that had started out as a rectangle but was now a sad little stub.
"You could just give up, you know. You don’t have to suffer through this for hours on end just to end up humiliating yourself anyway," he said, just to wind her up.
She did not disappoint. Looking up sharply, she gave him a glare worthy of his mother.
"Just because you’ve had practice at this, doesn’t mean I’m incapable of making a card for my daughter, Ronald!” she hissed.
Ooh, Ronald. She was taking this bet very seriously indeed. He hadn’t realised that she had taken their daughter’s innocent little remark to heart.
Rose’s ninth birthday party was everything she had wanted it to be. Hermione had worked hard to make it so. Everything was pony-themed, even the cake that Molly had offered to make, and Hermione had slaved over the smallest details. The only thing he’d been in-charge of, was making a muggle game called “Pin the Tail”, because Rose had demanded a pony, and the only ones available in the shops were donkeys. So when she overheard Rose telling Lily, “mummy buys stuff, daddy makes stuff” in reply to who made the ‘Pin-the-tail on the Pony’, she had been understandably upset.
"She’s a smart kid." she had told Ron, dejectedly, then brushed it off when he tried to say something. But he realised just how much the comment had hurt her now. With a week left for Rose’s tenth birthday, she declared that she was going to make her a handmade card.
"I’m not going to pretend to be as artistic as you, Ron," she had said. "I’ll just start with something small. Just to show Rose that I can make things too." Of course, she insisted that she would draw a pony. He’d been amused at the time.
He was suddenly brought out of his reverie when Hermione suddenly crumpled up her parchment and threw it across the room in a snit.
"It’s just a pony, Hermione," he said, extending a placating hand towards her.
"Oh shut up, Ron!"
He drew back quickly. She was definitely in a mood. He tried again, from a distance.
"Hermione, you know she didn’t mean anything by it. She just-"
"She was nine, Ron! Nine! What child talks like that at age nine? She thinks you love her more! And that I just throw money at her! Don’t try to tell me she didn’t mean anything by it," she angrily brushed away her tears.
She sat down heavily back in her chair, staring glumly at the card he’d made.
"Your pony is beautiful."
Ron sighed and drew near her again, pulling her into his arms.
"Hermione, she knows you love her. Of course, she knows that. And as smart as she is, it wasn’t anything she thought too deeply about. She knows you work hard, Hermione.”
"Yeah, she knows I spend more time at the Ministry than with her and Hugo," she tried to push him away, but he wrapped his arms around her tighter.
"No. She knows that mummy does serious important work at the Ministry and daddy makes silly faces when he sees a spider. She knows daddy’s work at the joke shop doesn’t take nearly as much time as helping innocent people -"
"You’re selling yourself short again," she interrupted, sounding cross. "You’re her hero."
He smiled.
"The point, Hermione, is that she loves you. You should listen to how proud she sounds when she talks about you and your work. My mother works at the Ministry. She puts evil wizards in Azkaban!" he mimicked his daughter’s high pitched voice. "The kids at the park were all suitably impressed."
Hermione drew back to give him a watery smile.
"I suppose she doesn’t hate me then." she conceded.
Ron laughed.
"For the cleverest witch of your age, you sure are thick, Hermione."
She rolled her eyes and pecked him on the lips. Glancing at the rolled up piece of parchment, she sighed again.
"Remind me to pick up a card tomorrow."