All The Right Ingredients - Part 2/2
I've included my original author's note at the end of the fic, as the people who helped me get this finished last year are all wonderful, and deserve recognition all over again, even months later!!
Hope you enjoy the end of my story!!
Part 1 HERE.
Ron’s initial trip to the Grangers’ had been in late March and it became the first in a string of visits he paid to their home over the next few weeks to learn the delicate art of biscuit-baking from Mr. Granger. Most of his lessons took place on Saturday afternoons, and he used the same cover story as he had the first time, counting on Harry to be his alibi.
Unfortunately, this plan didn’t always work. Twice, Ron had needed to dash out into the garden and Apparate away when Hermione arrived unexpectedly for a visit. The first time, he’d still been wearing an apron that said: I’ve Got All the Right Ingredients. And he really didn’t want to contemplate why Mr. Granger had that particular apron. In his panic, he’d Apparated himself to the first safe place he’d thought of, which had just happened to be his office at the Ministry. Unfortunately for Ron, Harry had popped in to catch up on some work since they hadn’t gone on their weekend fly and since Ginny had been away on a road trip. His laughter at the sight of Ron covered in flour and decked out in that apron had threatened to overwhelm him. That is, until Ron had smacked him on the back of the head with a batter-covered hand.
Occasionally, he’d taken the opportunity to sneak in a lesson when Hermione had an evening meeting with her mentor and fellow apprentices in the law program, and even once when she and Ginny had been having a girls’ night with several of their friends.
And, though they didn’t go as badly as Ron originally feared, the lessons weren’t exactly easy for him. Mr. Granger insisted that they use Muggle methods, which slowed things down as Ron had to learn about measuring cups and mixer speeds and how to crack an egg properly without splattering it, and the shells, all over the kitchen. The first two lessons resulted in batches of biscuits that were misshapen, blackened, and overly runny. There were many times Ron came perilously close to throwing in the towel, but Mr. Granger kept urging him to stick with it. And he stayed firm about the no magic rule…he insisted that doing everything by hand would make things easier for Ron in the end, because Ron would have had to learn every measurement precisely.
There were some days Ron was convinced that Mr. Granger was only insisting upon these magic restrictions to torture him, but slowly he began to see progress. After about three weeks, Ron knew he’d turned the corner. He’d managed to produce a couple of batches in a row that were - while not perfect - distinctly more edible than his early efforts. And as spring rolled onwards, he found that he was also forging a most unexpected friendship with Hermione’s father. Sometimes Jean joined them in the kitchen, watching as Paul worked with Ron, but often she left the pair to their own devices, and they found that they got on rather well together.
One Saturday in late April, almost a week before the anniversary of what was now known in the Wizarding world as Victory Day, Ron and Paul were both to be found hunched in front of the Grangers’ oven waiting for the timer to buzz.
“Go on then, lad,” Paul motioned to Ron when the timer sounded. “It’s time.”
Ron nodded and reached for the large, flower-patterned oven mitts that were sitting on the kitchen table. He slipped them on and carefully cracked the oven door, reaching inside to remove the two biscuit trays. The smell of warm, freshly baked biscuits assailed his nose, and he had to refrain from doing a happy little jig and dropping the trays. They look right! They smell right! Merlin, please let them taste right!
Moving carefully, he set the trays down on the cooling racks laid out on the counter and turned when he heard Mr. Granger close the refrigerator door.
“Nearly time for the taste test,” Paul said, holding up a large jug of cold milk. He set it on the table and grabbed two small plates from a nearby china cupboard, putting them on the table with the jug.
The two men cleaned up the kitchen, not saying much as they waited for the biscuits to cool. Ron was silently hoping that this batch would be the batch. Previous lessons’ taste tests had resulted in both men spitting their biscuits into their napkins more than once, and Ron was more than ready to put his proposal plans into action. He had decided when and how he wanted to do it, and the perfect opportunity would be coming up just after Victory Day, so his baking skills had to measure up. It was now or never.
The kitchen finally clean, Paul transferred several biscuits to a plate and brought it to the table. They both sat and each took a biscuit and poured themselves a tall glass of milk.
This was it. The moment of truth was at hand.
“Here goes,” Ron said, raising his biscuit towards Mr. Granger’s in a sort of salute before closing his eyes and taking a bite.
He chewed. He savored. He truly absorbed the flavor. He swallowed.
He smiled.
When he opened his eyes, Mr. Granger was grinning back at him, having taken a large bite of his own biscuit.
“Well lad, I think that that is what we would call an unqualified success. I think there’s no more for me to teach you.” Paul pretended to dab his napkin at imaginary tears, and the two men chuckled. They finished their first biscuits and each polished off a couple more, before Paul said, “In all seriousness, Ron, I’ve enjoyed getting to know you like this. When you’ve visited with Hermione, it’s always been a bit more formal, and you and Jean have the market cornered when it comes to chess, so…well, I’m glad.”
Ron found that he would actually miss spending Saturday afternoons at the Grangers’, and said honestly, “Me too…though I won’t miss leaping into the hedges to avoid Hermione when she shows up here.”
“Hm, no I suppose not.” Paul smiled. “She’s not suspicious is she?”
“Amazingly, no. I would’ve thought she’d have sussed this out by now, but she’s been so preoccupied with finishing the last bits of her apprenticeship that she’s been really distracted this whole month.”
Paul nodded, finishing his last biscuit and dusting the crumbs off his shirt with his napkin. “She does tend to get rather focused when she’s working on something she cares deeply about.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice!”
“I have to admit, I was worried when I first guessed you’d be asking for our blessing. You’re both so young, and you’ve both got so much going on in your lives…and, well, I’ve seen first hand how difficult it can be to keep a marriage on track…even when you love the other person more than anything.” Paul paused, an introspective look on his face.
“Sir?” Ron was perplexed by Mr. Granger’s sudden change of topic.
“Oh, I’m going about this the wrong way, and I’m sorry for that, Ron. What I’m bungling my way through saying is that I was a bit worried, but over the last several weeks, getting to spend time with you and really talk to you one on one…more than I think we ever have before, in fact…I really believe the two of you will have something incredibly strong and lasting.” He looked Ron squarely in the eye and spoke with extreme seriousness, “Bonds like yours are rare. Make sure you cherish it.”
“I will, sir.”
And Ron knew that that was a promise he would have absolutely no trouble keeping.
~*~
One week later, Saturday, May 3rd, 2001 dawned clear and warm, with a light spring breeze that swayed the branches outside the open bedroom window of Ron and Hermione’s flat. The pair was curled up together underneath the soft, down-filled duvet enjoying a bit of a Saturday morning lie-in until Ron was woken by the sounds of the morning birdsong floating in from outside. After the formal Victory Day celebrations at Hogwarts the day before, they’d gone to the Burrow for a birthday tea for Victoire, who had then been whisked off to sleep early in the evening. The adults had stayed far into the night, toasting the memories of family and friends no longer present, and Ron and Hermione had not gotten home until the small hours of the morning.
He stirred sleepily, rubbing a hand over his eyes and stretching as slightly as he could without waking Hermione. For a few moments he simply watched her sleep, before sliding his arm back around her waist and pulling her into the curve of his body. He buried his nose in the thicket of hair behind her ear and breathed in, enjoying the familiar scent of lilacs that often featured in his dreams. He pressed the lightest possible row of kisses along the shell of her ear, working downwards and sucking the lobe into his mouth.
As he did, Hermione let out a soft whimper in her sleep and twitched slightly, rolling towards him and onto her back. He continued to place soft kisses along her brow, on her eyelids, the apples of her cheeks, and her nose, before lightly kissing her mouth. By the time he drew back from this last kiss, she was smiling and blinking owlishly up at him.
“Hullo, love,” he whispered.
“Hi there,” she said, her voice still gravelly from sleep. She blinked a few more times, her brow quirking in thought. “You look…all plotty…why?”
“Ah, well that would be because I’m up to something, you see,” he responded with a smacking kiss to her cheek.
“Oh really? And what would that be?”
“Mm…can’t tell you…at least not yet.”
“Rrrrron,” she mumbled at him grumpily, which only made him laugh.
“Nope, not telling. At least not all of it…but I can tell you I’m whisking you away.”
At that, she was suddenly much more alert. “Whisking? Me? Away? Where?”
“Yes. You. Yes, again. And, I can’t tell you yet…”
“You are infuriating,” she said, affecting her best mock-glower.
“That may be, but I think you’ll forgive me in a bit.”
“Hmph.”
“Now, love, don’t grump.” He leaned in and placed a longer, deeper kiss on her pouting mouth, and when he drew back this time she was smiling at him again. “That’s better.”
“What would be better would be you explaining yourself.”
“Well, let’s start with this…I’m taking you away for an overnight vacation…so why don’t you get yourself packed? Then take a nice long bath like I know you love, and spend a relaxing morning with your favorite book.” He sat up and moved towards the edge of the bed, leaning down to gather his boxers and pajama pants from where they’d landed the night before.
“Oh, and what will you be doing while I do all that?”
“I have to pop out and pick up some essentials for our trip, and check in on one pressing case at the Ministry. But I’ll be back around lunchtime, and then we’ll go, yeah?” He turned to her and smiled at the image she presented, all tousled hair and bare shoulders amidst their rumpled sheets.
That’s the rest of your life right there mate… if you can get her to say yes.
She must have seen something in his smile, for her expression softened and she stopped trying to figure out what he had up his sleeve. “Alright.”
“Brilliant.”
~*~
In reality, Ron didn’t go near the Ministry that morning, but he did make a couple of short stops at the market and a flower shop, before moving on to the destination where he would bring Hermione later. He had everything he needed to bake the perfect biscuits there in peace, and just enough time to turn out one batch before he needed to go back and pick up Hermione at their flat.
He had no room for error.
The next couple of hours were spent in deep concentration and near total silence as Ron bustled about the small kitchen, and when he was finished, the results were ideal. One utterly perfect, golden batch of Hermione’s favorite biscuits sat on a large platter. He set the ring box, which he’d been keeping on his person at all times for weeks, on a small white plate and cast a Protection Charm over it. He carefully placed several biscuits so that they completely covered the box and cast a Warming Charm over them. He then cast a modified Caterwauling Charm over the whole plate, so that anyone who touched it before he was ready would get a bit of a shock. No one else ought to be there that day, but he couldn’t help it…this was important and he had to take all possible precautions.
A jug of milk was sitting under a Cooling Charm, and he placed it on the pale green countertop near the kitchen’s wide windows and next to the small plate holding the biscuits and ring box. A small bouquet of flowers was on the sitting room table, the fixings for a large picnic were packed into a good-sized hamper that Ron left in the front hallway near the door, and a large blanket was folded and waiting next to the hamper. Ron looked round one last time and with a satisfied sigh, he Disapparated.
~*~
“Hermione, love, are you ready?”
“Mmm…I hope I packed properly. You didn’t really give me anything to go on,” she chided him gently as she stepped into the hallway of their flat carrying a small travel bag and wearing a light blue sundress and sandals. A gray cardigan was over her arm. She looked relaxed and lovely, and for a moment all Ron could do was stare at her. “Ron?”
“Hmm? Oh, sorry…I’m sure it’s all fine. You look wonderful, Hermione.”
“Thanks,” she replied, and he noted affectionately that she still had the endearing habit of ducking her head and blushing when he paid her a compliment. He grabbed his own bag from where he’d stowed it earlier in the kitchen and turned back to face her.
“Shall we?” he offered her his arm and after she took it, he used Side-Along Apparition to get them to where they would spend the rest of the weekend. When Hermione opened her eyes, he heard her gasp happily.
“Oh, Ron! What a wonderful idea…but are you sure Bill and Fleur won’t mind?”
“Nah,” he said, moving up the walkway towards Shell Cottage. He opened the door and placed their bags in the hallway while retrieving the picnic hamper and blanket. “When Bill told me a couple of weeks ago that he and Fleur were taking Victoire to Paris right after her birthday to visit with Fleur’s family, I asked him right away if they’d mind if we came here for a weekend. He was happy to agree….fancy a walk to the beach?”
She nodded and linked her arm through his again, and they ambled slowly towards the shoreline. Finding a spot under a slight outcropping of rock that was somewhat sheltered from the breeze and direct sun, Ron spread out the blanket.
They spent a pleasant afternoon talking, picnicking, snogging a bit, walking along the beach, and napping on the blanket. Hermione had left her books behind, and the two of them simply relaxed and enjoyed being with one another in a way that their busy schedules had prevented far too often in recent months. It was just what they both needed, and while Hermione was intent on collecting several seashells from the water’s edge, Ron watched her and contemplated the part of his plan that was still to come.
When the afternoon started to slide into evening, and the breeze had turned from pleasant to slightly chilling, they packed up the hamper and headed back towards the cottage. Hermione yawned and stretched as they stepped through the front door.
“How about I build a fire, and we curl up on the sofa?” Ron asked.
“Hmm…sounds wonderful…that afternoon of doing nothing really tired me out,” Hermione said, smiling at him. “I think I’m going to run upstairs and freshen up first though.” She took both their bags, pecked him on the cheek, and skipped quickly up the stairs towards the guest room and bath.
Perfect.
Ron leapt into action, lighting a fire in the sitting room fireplace with his wand and carefully fluffing the sofa pillows before going into the kitchen and removing all the charms from the plate of biscuits. He piled the plate, the milk jug, two glasses and some napkins onto a tray and brought it all into the sitting room, placing it on the table in front of the sofa right next to the flowers. He’d just set it down when he heard Hermione’s footsteps coming back down the stairs.
She came through the doorway and took in the sight of him standing there next to the tray of biscuits and stopped short with a puzzled look on her face. “Ron? Are those my favorite biscuits? Did you get them from my Dad?”
“Erm, no love…not exactly.” Ron stepped aside so that she could sit down and then moved to sit beside her. “They are your favorite biscuits, but…I made them.”
“What?” She looked at him, a somewhat disbelieving expression on her face.
“Yeah…um, it’s taken me rather awhile to learn how, and I’ve destroyed more baking pans than I care to admit. But I wanted to figure out how to make them because I wanted to do something special for you. I saw how much you loved them when you got that box of them a few months back, and, well, I asked your Dad to teach me how to make them.”
“He taught you?” She had pressed one hand to her mouth and was shaking her head as if it still didn’t make sense. “I can hardly believe it. I’ve wanted to know the secret of that recipe ever since I was little and he’d never tell me.” She reached forward to take one from the plate and bit into it, eyes closing in delight as she chewed.
“I didn’t know…” Ron was stunned. In all the time he’d spent with Hermione’s father over the last several weeks, he’d never imagined that the recipe was such a special secret. It touched Ron that Mr. Granger had entrusted him with something so important. And in a few moments, if this goes the way I hope, Hermione will trust me with something more special still.
They settled into the couch, nibbling biscuits and talking about what a beautiful day it had been, and how they really ought to make time to do things like this more often. After a little while, there were only a few biscuits left on the plate. Hermione leaned forward and picked one up, nudging the ring box with her hand. Ron took a deep breath and steadied himself. Here we go…
“Ron…there’s something under…oh sweet Merlin…Ron?” She looked at him, her eyes huge and dark in the firelight. He had slid off the sofa and was kneeling in front of her. He clasped her right hand in his and rubbed his thumb against her knuckles. He tapped the box, which she was still clutching in her other hand.
“Aren’t you going to open that?”
Wordlessly, she pulled her right hand free and used it to open the box. Impossibly, her eyes grew wider and seemed to take on a glossy sheen as she gazed down on the small antique silver and sapphire ring, but still she said nothing. Gently, he removed the ring from the box and set the box aside.
“Hermione…we’ve been best friends for almost half our lives now, and you already know that I’ve been in love with you for most of that time, even before I could admit it to myself. Well, it was three years ago right here when I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that my life would be worth nothing if you weren’t in it, and I promised myself I would do everything I could the rest of my life to make you happy. I know things haven’t always been easy between us, but I swear to you I’ll treasure what we have every single day and do my best to be the kind of husband you deserve…that is, if you’ll marry me?” He finally came to a stop, the ring poised mid-air over her ring finger.
One breathless, silent moment passed as they gazed at each other before Hermione whispered, “Yes.” Then she pushed her finger through the ring. She shifted forward into Ron’s arms and embraced him, kissing him deeply as they both knelt on the hearthrug before the fire, the same place where years ago he’d held her in the aftermath of their escape from Malfoy Manor. One of the most horrible nights of their lives was replaced with one of the best as they kissed and kissed and kissed.
And Ron’s last coherent thought, before he scooped Hermione up and carried her towards the stairs leading to their borrowed bedroom, was that she tasted of vanilla, cinnamon, and the mysterious richness of dark chocolate.
~*~
The next evening, Ron sent Pig off with a special delivery to the Grangers’ home. Tied to the little owl’s leg was a small box of leftover biscuits and a note to Mr. Granger.
Paul-
It was an unqualified success.
Thank you…
…for everything.
Best,
-Ron
~*~Fin~*~
Author’s Note: I want to send an immense thank you to my wonderful and amazing beta Annasmit, who waded through this epic length story of mine twice during the last week before the challenge deadline despite also having to work on her own challenge submission, having to juggle a six hour time difference between us, and having to rein in my many writing quirks and foibles. This is our third challenge together here at CM, and I’m quite sure that I don’t know how to write without you anymore!! I also want to send heartfelt thanks to Pili204, for calming my last minute panic attack, taming my overuse of ellipses, and putting a second set of objective eyes on the longest single piece of fan fiction I’ve ever written. I seriously don’t know where all these words came from. I mean, 12,097!! Yikes!! But Pili, you were my first supporter on CM and to have your help again means a lot. Thanks also to Mugglemama for cheerleading me along the way whenever I was despairing over whether I would finish. I’ve really loved participating in this challenge and I look forward to reading the submissions from all of my talented fellow writers!!
Hope you enjoy the end of my story!!
Part 1 HERE.
Ron’s initial trip to the Grangers’ had been in late March and it became the first in a string of visits he paid to their home over the next few weeks to learn the delicate art of biscuit-baking from Mr. Granger. Most of his lessons took place on Saturday afternoons, and he used the same cover story as he had the first time, counting on Harry to be his alibi.
Unfortunately, this plan didn’t always work. Twice, Ron had needed to dash out into the garden and Apparate away when Hermione arrived unexpectedly for a visit. The first time, he’d still been wearing an apron that said: I’ve Got All the Right Ingredients. And he really didn’t want to contemplate why Mr. Granger had that particular apron. In his panic, he’d Apparated himself to the first safe place he’d thought of, which had just happened to be his office at the Ministry. Unfortunately for Ron, Harry had popped in to catch up on some work since they hadn’t gone on their weekend fly and since Ginny had been away on a road trip. His laughter at the sight of Ron covered in flour and decked out in that apron had threatened to overwhelm him. That is, until Ron had smacked him on the back of the head with a batter-covered hand.
Occasionally, he’d taken the opportunity to sneak in a lesson when Hermione had an evening meeting with her mentor and fellow apprentices in the law program, and even once when she and Ginny had been having a girls’ night with several of their friends.
And, though they didn’t go as badly as Ron originally feared, the lessons weren’t exactly easy for him. Mr. Granger insisted that they use Muggle methods, which slowed things down as Ron had to learn about measuring cups and mixer speeds and how to crack an egg properly without splattering it, and the shells, all over the kitchen. The first two lessons resulted in batches of biscuits that were misshapen, blackened, and overly runny. There were many times Ron came perilously close to throwing in the towel, but Mr. Granger kept urging him to stick with it. And he stayed firm about the no magic rule…he insisted that doing everything by hand would make things easier for Ron in the end, because Ron would have had to learn every measurement precisely.
There were some days Ron was convinced that Mr. Granger was only insisting upon these magic restrictions to torture him, but slowly he began to see progress. After about three weeks, Ron knew he’d turned the corner. He’d managed to produce a couple of batches in a row that were - while not perfect - distinctly more edible than his early efforts. And as spring rolled onwards, he found that he was also forging a most unexpected friendship with Hermione’s father. Sometimes Jean joined them in the kitchen, watching as Paul worked with Ron, but often she left the pair to their own devices, and they found that they got on rather well together.
One Saturday in late April, almost a week before the anniversary of what was now known in the Wizarding world as Victory Day, Ron and Paul were both to be found hunched in front of the Grangers’ oven waiting for the timer to buzz.
“Go on then, lad,” Paul motioned to Ron when the timer sounded. “It’s time.”
Ron nodded and reached for the large, flower-patterned oven mitts that were sitting on the kitchen table. He slipped them on and carefully cracked the oven door, reaching inside to remove the two biscuit trays. The smell of warm, freshly baked biscuits assailed his nose, and he had to refrain from doing a happy little jig and dropping the trays. They look right! They smell right! Merlin, please let them taste right!
Moving carefully, he set the trays down on the cooling racks laid out on the counter and turned when he heard Mr. Granger close the refrigerator door.
“Nearly time for the taste test,” Paul said, holding up a large jug of cold milk. He set it on the table and grabbed two small plates from a nearby china cupboard, putting them on the table with the jug.
The two men cleaned up the kitchen, not saying much as they waited for the biscuits to cool. Ron was silently hoping that this batch would be the batch. Previous lessons’ taste tests had resulted in both men spitting their biscuits into their napkins more than once, and Ron was more than ready to put his proposal plans into action. He had decided when and how he wanted to do it, and the perfect opportunity would be coming up just after Victory Day, so his baking skills had to measure up. It was now or never.
The kitchen finally clean, Paul transferred several biscuits to a plate and brought it to the table. They both sat and each took a biscuit and poured themselves a tall glass of milk.
This was it. The moment of truth was at hand.
“Here goes,” Ron said, raising his biscuit towards Mr. Granger’s in a sort of salute before closing his eyes and taking a bite.
He chewed. He savored. He truly absorbed the flavor. He swallowed.
He smiled.
When he opened his eyes, Mr. Granger was grinning back at him, having taken a large bite of his own biscuit.
“Well lad, I think that that is what we would call an unqualified success. I think there’s no more for me to teach you.” Paul pretended to dab his napkin at imaginary tears, and the two men chuckled. They finished their first biscuits and each polished off a couple more, before Paul said, “In all seriousness, Ron, I’ve enjoyed getting to know you like this. When you’ve visited with Hermione, it’s always been a bit more formal, and you and Jean have the market cornered when it comes to chess, so…well, I’m glad.”
Ron found that he would actually miss spending Saturday afternoons at the Grangers’, and said honestly, “Me too…though I won’t miss leaping into the hedges to avoid Hermione when she shows up here.”
“Hm, no I suppose not.” Paul smiled. “She’s not suspicious is she?”
“Amazingly, no. I would’ve thought she’d have sussed this out by now, but she’s been so preoccupied with finishing the last bits of her apprenticeship that she’s been really distracted this whole month.”
Paul nodded, finishing his last biscuit and dusting the crumbs off his shirt with his napkin. “She does tend to get rather focused when she’s working on something she cares deeply about.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice!”
“I have to admit, I was worried when I first guessed you’d be asking for our blessing. You’re both so young, and you’ve both got so much going on in your lives…and, well, I’ve seen first hand how difficult it can be to keep a marriage on track…even when you love the other person more than anything.” Paul paused, an introspective look on his face.
“Sir?” Ron was perplexed by Mr. Granger’s sudden change of topic.
“Oh, I’m going about this the wrong way, and I’m sorry for that, Ron. What I’m bungling my way through saying is that I was a bit worried, but over the last several weeks, getting to spend time with you and really talk to you one on one…more than I think we ever have before, in fact…I really believe the two of you will have something incredibly strong and lasting.” He looked Ron squarely in the eye and spoke with extreme seriousness, “Bonds like yours are rare. Make sure you cherish it.”
“I will, sir.”
And Ron knew that that was a promise he would have absolutely no trouble keeping.
~*~
One week later, Saturday, May 3rd, 2001 dawned clear and warm, with a light spring breeze that swayed the branches outside the open bedroom window of Ron and Hermione’s flat. The pair was curled up together underneath the soft, down-filled duvet enjoying a bit of a Saturday morning lie-in until Ron was woken by the sounds of the morning birdsong floating in from outside. After the formal Victory Day celebrations at Hogwarts the day before, they’d gone to the Burrow for a birthday tea for Victoire, who had then been whisked off to sleep early in the evening. The adults had stayed far into the night, toasting the memories of family and friends no longer present, and Ron and Hermione had not gotten home until the small hours of the morning.
He stirred sleepily, rubbing a hand over his eyes and stretching as slightly as he could without waking Hermione. For a few moments he simply watched her sleep, before sliding his arm back around her waist and pulling her into the curve of his body. He buried his nose in the thicket of hair behind her ear and breathed in, enjoying the familiar scent of lilacs that often featured in his dreams. He pressed the lightest possible row of kisses along the shell of her ear, working downwards and sucking the lobe into his mouth.
As he did, Hermione let out a soft whimper in her sleep and twitched slightly, rolling towards him and onto her back. He continued to place soft kisses along her brow, on her eyelids, the apples of her cheeks, and her nose, before lightly kissing her mouth. By the time he drew back from this last kiss, she was smiling and blinking owlishly up at him.
“Hullo, love,” he whispered.
“Hi there,” she said, her voice still gravelly from sleep. She blinked a few more times, her brow quirking in thought. “You look…all plotty…why?”
“Ah, well that would be because I’m up to something, you see,” he responded with a smacking kiss to her cheek.
“Oh really? And what would that be?”
“Mm…can’t tell you…at least not yet.”
“Rrrrron,” she mumbled at him grumpily, which only made him laugh.
“Nope, not telling. At least not all of it…but I can tell you I’m whisking you away.”
At that, she was suddenly much more alert. “Whisking? Me? Away? Where?”
“Yes. You. Yes, again. And, I can’t tell you yet…”
“You are infuriating,” she said, affecting her best mock-glower.
“That may be, but I think you’ll forgive me in a bit.”
“Hmph.”
“Now, love, don’t grump.” He leaned in and placed a longer, deeper kiss on her pouting mouth, and when he drew back this time she was smiling at him again. “That’s better.”
“What would be better would be you explaining yourself.”
“Well, let’s start with this…I’m taking you away for an overnight vacation…so why don’t you get yourself packed? Then take a nice long bath like I know you love, and spend a relaxing morning with your favorite book.” He sat up and moved towards the edge of the bed, leaning down to gather his boxers and pajama pants from where they’d landed the night before.
“Oh, and what will you be doing while I do all that?”
“I have to pop out and pick up some essentials for our trip, and check in on one pressing case at the Ministry. But I’ll be back around lunchtime, and then we’ll go, yeah?” He turned to her and smiled at the image she presented, all tousled hair and bare shoulders amidst their rumpled sheets.
That’s the rest of your life right there mate… if you can get her to say yes.
She must have seen something in his smile, for her expression softened and she stopped trying to figure out what he had up his sleeve. “Alright.”
“Brilliant.”
~*~
In reality, Ron didn’t go near the Ministry that morning, but he did make a couple of short stops at the market and a flower shop, before moving on to the destination where he would bring Hermione later. He had everything he needed to bake the perfect biscuits there in peace, and just enough time to turn out one batch before he needed to go back and pick up Hermione at their flat.
He had no room for error.
The next couple of hours were spent in deep concentration and near total silence as Ron bustled about the small kitchen, and when he was finished, the results were ideal. One utterly perfect, golden batch of Hermione’s favorite biscuits sat on a large platter. He set the ring box, which he’d been keeping on his person at all times for weeks, on a small white plate and cast a Protection Charm over it. He carefully placed several biscuits so that they completely covered the box and cast a Warming Charm over them. He then cast a modified Caterwauling Charm over the whole plate, so that anyone who touched it before he was ready would get a bit of a shock. No one else ought to be there that day, but he couldn’t help it…this was important and he had to take all possible precautions.
A jug of milk was sitting under a Cooling Charm, and he placed it on the pale green countertop near the kitchen’s wide windows and next to the small plate holding the biscuits and ring box. A small bouquet of flowers was on the sitting room table, the fixings for a large picnic were packed into a good-sized hamper that Ron left in the front hallway near the door, and a large blanket was folded and waiting next to the hamper. Ron looked round one last time and with a satisfied sigh, he Disapparated.
~*~
“Hermione, love, are you ready?”
“Mmm…I hope I packed properly. You didn’t really give me anything to go on,” she chided him gently as she stepped into the hallway of their flat carrying a small travel bag and wearing a light blue sundress and sandals. A gray cardigan was over her arm. She looked relaxed and lovely, and for a moment all Ron could do was stare at her. “Ron?”
“Hmm? Oh, sorry…I’m sure it’s all fine. You look wonderful, Hermione.”
“Thanks,” she replied, and he noted affectionately that she still had the endearing habit of ducking her head and blushing when he paid her a compliment. He grabbed his own bag from where he’d stowed it earlier in the kitchen and turned back to face her.
“Shall we?” he offered her his arm and after she took it, he used Side-Along Apparition to get them to where they would spend the rest of the weekend. When Hermione opened her eyes, he heard her gasp happily.
“Oh, Ron! What a wonderful idea…but are you sure Bill and Fleur won’t mind?”
“Nah,” he said, moving up the walkway towards Shell Cottage. He opened the door and placed their bags in the hallway while retrieving the picnic hamper and blanket. “When Bill told me a couple of weeks ago that he and Fleur were taking Victoire to Paris right after her birthday to visit with Fleur’s family, I asked him right away if they’d mind if we came here for a weekend. He was happy to agree….fancy a walk to the beach?”
She nodded and linked her arm through his again, and they ambled slowly towards the shoreline. Finding a spot under a slight outcropping of rock that was somewhat sheltered from the breeze and direct sun, Ron spread out the blanket.
They spent a pleasant afternoon talking, picnicking, snogging a bit, walking along the beach, and napping on the blanket. Hermione had left her books behind, and the two of them simply relaxed and enjoyed being with one another in a way that their busy schedules had prevented far too often in recent months. It was just what they both needed, and while Hermione was intent on collecting several seashells from the water’s edge, Ron watched her and contemplated the part of his plan that was still to come.
When the afternoon started to slide into evening, and the breeze had turned from pleasant to slightly chilling, they packed up the hamper and headed back towards the cottage. Hermione yawned and stretched as they stepped through the front door.
“How about I build a fire, and we curl up on the sofa?” Ron asked.
“Hmm…sounds wonderful…that afternoon of doing nothing really tired me out,” Hermione said, smiling at him. “I think I’m going to run upstairs and freshen up first though.” She took both their bags, pecked him on the cheek, and skipped quickly up the stairs towards the guest room and bath.
Perfect.
Ron leapt into action, lighting a fire in the sitting room fireplace with his wand and carefully fluffing the sofa pillows before going into the kitchen and removing all the charms from the plate of biscuits. He piled the plate, the milk jug, two glasses and some napkins onto a tray and brought it all into the sitting room, placing it on the table in front of the sofa right next to the flowers. He’d just set it down when he heard Hermione’s footsteps coming back down the stairs.
She came through the doorway and took in the sight of him standing there next to the tray of biscuits and stopped short with a puzzled look on her face. “Ron? Are those my favorite biscuits? Did you get them from my Dad?”
“Erm, no love…not exactly.” Ron stepped aside so that she could sit down and then moved to sit beside her. “They are your favorite biscuits, but…I made them.”
“What?” She looked at him, a somewhat disbelieving expression on her face.
“Yeah…um, it’s taken me rather awhile to learn how, and I’ve destroyed more baking pans than I care to admit. But I wanted to figure out how to make them because I wanted to do something special for you. I saw how much you loved them when you got that box of them a few months back, and, well, I asked your Dad to teach me how to make them.”
“He taught you?” She had pressed one hand to her mouth and was shaking her head as if it still didn’t make sense. “I can hardly believe it. I’ve wanted to know the secret of that recipe ever since I was little and he’d never tell me.” She reached forward to take one from the plate and bit into it, eyes closing in delight as she chewed.
“I didn’t know…” Ron was stunned. In all the time he’d spent with Hermione’s father over the last several weeks, he’d never imagined that the recipe was such a special secret. It touched Ron that Mr. Granger had entrusted him with something so important. And in a few moments, if this goes the way I hope, Hermione will trust me with something more special still.
They settled into the couch, nibbling biscuits and talking about what a beautiful day it had been, and how they really ought to make time to do things like this more often. After a little while, there were only a few biscuits left on the plate. Hermione leaned forward and picked one up, nudging the ring box with her hand. Ron took a deep breath and steadied himself. Here we go…
“Ron…there’s something under…oh sweet Merlin…Ron?” She looked at him, her eyes huge and dark in the firelight. He had slid off the sofa and was kneeling in front of her. He clasped her right hand in his and rubbed his thumb against her knuckles. He tapped the box, which she was still clutching in her other hand.
“Aren’t you going to open that?”
Wordlessly, she pulled her right hand free and used it to open the box. Impossibly, her eyes grew wider and seemed to take on a glossy sheen as she gazed down on the small antique silver and sapphire ring, but still she said nothing. Gently, he removed the ring from the box and set the box aside.
“Hermione…we’ve been best friends for almost half our lives now, and you already know that I’ve been in love with you for most of that time, even before I could admit it to myself. Well, it was three years ago right here when I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that my life would be worth nothing if you weren’t in it, and I promised myself I would do everything I could the rest of my life to make you happy. I know things haven’t always been easy between us, but I swear to you I’ll treasure what we have every single day and do my best to be the kind of husband you deserve…that is, if you’ll marry me?” He finally came to a stop, the ring poised mid-air over her ring finger.
One breathless, silent moment passed as they gazed at each other before Hermione whispered, “Yes.” Then she pushed her finger through the ring. She shifted forward into Ron’s arms and embraced him, kissing him deeply as they both knelt on the hearthrug before the fire, the same place where years ago he’d held her in the aftermath of their escape from Malfoy Manor. One of the most horrible nights of their lives was replaced with one of the best as they kissed and kissed and kissed.
And Ron’s last coherent thought, before he scooped Hermione up and carried her towards the stairs leading to their borrowed bedroom, was that she tasted of vanilla, cinnamon, and the mysterious richness of dark chocolate.
~*~
The next evening, Ron sent Pig off with a special delivery to the Grangers’ home. Tied to the little owl’s leg was a small box of leftover biscuits and a note to Mr. Granger.
Paul-
It was an unqualified success.
Thank you…
…for everything.
Best,
-Ron
~*~Fin~*~
Author’s Note: I want to send an immense thank you to my wonderful and amazing beta Annasmit, who waded through this epic length story of mine twice during the last week before the challenge deadline despite also having to work on her own challenge submission, having to juggle a six hour time difference between us, and having to rein in my many writing quirks and foibles. This is our third challenge together here at CM, and I’m quite sure that I don’t know how to write without you anymore!! I also want to send heartfelt thanks to Pili204, for calming my last minute panic attack, taming my overuse of ellipses, and putting a second set of objective eyes on the longest single piece of fan fiction I’ve ever written. I seriously don’t know where all these words came from. I mean, 12,097!! Yikes!! But Pili, you were my first supporter on CM and to have your help again means a lot. Thanks also to Mugglemama for cheerleading me along the way whenever I was despairing over whether I would finish. I’ve really loved participating in this challenge and I look forward to reading the submissions from all of my talented fellow writers!!