Isn't it nice...
Ron apparated home, having just gotten released from practice. He was worn and glad for it to be over. Anymore practice was something he dreaded to go to in the morning and happy to leave in the evening. He walked into the house and called out, "Suse, I'm home."
Home. He smiled, shaking his head, still enjoying the new idea of coming home to Susan everyday. He shrugged out of his coat and walked into the kitchen to see Susan standing in front of the stove.
"Ah, what are we having tonight?"
"Shepherd's pie and string beans." She turned to greet him, looking rather like a 1950's housewife in her tea-length dress and half-apron tied around her waist. Kissing him softly, Susan grinned as she stepped back. "And blueberry tarts for afters. How was practice?"
Ron hummed as his stomach grumbled. "That sounds excellent." He turned to the leftover blueberries she had used to make the tarts and popped one in his mouth. Remembering how practice went he groaned.
"One of the new guys, Murray I think is his name, fell off his broom today. Just fell off. Guy who was trying to grab the Quaffle from him barely touched him." He shook his head, still annoyed. "Oh, and then I missed three goals. Three. When the season picks up we are going to be awful."
Susan just hugged him around the middle. Ron was always far more critical of himself than was warranted, but he wasn't going to change just based on her opinion that he was a brilliant Keeper. "I'm sure things will get better. If you're not happy, though. Really not happy, you could always try to trade to a new team when the season's over."
"Yeah," Ron said, not really considering it. The Cannons had always been his favorite team, he wasn't going to leave and be happy anywhere else. Not that he could get on another team. He had been lucky enough to be hired onto the Cannons in the first place. He shrugged, deciding to change the subject.
"I got an owl from Harry yesterday, wants me to go out for pints with him tomorrow. I won't be home until late, probably."
"Oh, that'll be fun. Give him my best, alright?" Pulling out plates, Susan piled a mountain of shepherd's pie on one and a smaller portion on the other, repeating the process with string beans. The little table wasn't big enough for more than place settings. As she grabbed their flatware and made her way to the table, she called over her shoulder, "Would you get our drinks? I think I'll have a Guinness tonight." Susan didn't drink much in the way of alcohol, but once in awhile she got in the mood for something a little stronger than butterbeer.
"Oh, a Guinness huh? Hard day at work? Need to relax with something stronger," he kidded. "Actually, I think I'll have one with you." He walked to the icebox and grabbed two bottles, taking them to the table.
They chatted as they ate, Susan telling him about the sweet old woman who'd brought them bikkies at the clinic. Occasionally Ron would take a bite and make a happy noise, making Susan giggle. She liked that he enjoyed her cooking; that he seemed to be pleased with their new living arrangement. The little house felt more like a home with Ron there, and Susan was as happy as she could ever remember being.
As they lingered over the blueberry tarts, she grinned. "You know, I might have to start making things you don't like so much. There are some noises you just shouldn't make outside the bedroom."
"You better not," he said, swallowing. "I can't help that blueberry's my favorite." He shoved the last bite in his mouth, grabbed his napkin and cleaned his hands. He stood up and walked over to her.
"Would you feel better if I showed you a little attention?" He leaned down and nipped her throat.
"I think you're supposed to wait thirty minutes after eating," she teased, her breath catching as Ron's hands began to move over her body. "But I think I'm willing to risk it."
Summary: Ron and Susan enjoy their new living arrangement.
Home. He smiled, shaking his head, still enjoying the new idea of coming home to Susan everyday. He shrugged out of his coat and walked into the kitchen to see Susan standing in front of the stove.
"Ah, what are we having tonight?"
"Shepherd's pie and string beans." She turned to greet him, looking rather like a 1950's housewife in her tea-length dress and half-apron tied around her waist. Kissing him softly, Susan grinned as she stepped back. "And blueberry tarts for afters. How was practice?"
Ron hummed as his stomach grumbled. "That sounds excellent." He turned to the leftover blueberries she had used to make the tarts and popped one in his mouth. Remembering how practice went he groaned.
"One of the new guys, Murray I think is his name, fell off his broom today. Just fell off. Guy who was trying to grab the Quaffle from him barely touched him." He shook his head, still annoyed. "Oh, and then I missed three goals. Three. When the season picks up we are going to be awful."
Susan just hugged him around the middle. Ron was always far more critical of himself than was warranted, but he wasn't going to change just based on her opinion that he was a brilliant Keeper. "I'm sure things will get better. If you're not happy, though. Really not happy, you could always try to trade to a new team when the season's over."
"Yeah," Ron said, not really considering it. The Cannons had always been his favorite team, he wasn't going to leave and be happy anywhere else. Not that he could get on another team. He had been lucky enough to be hired onto the Cannons in the first place. He shrugged, deciding to change the subject.
"I got an owl from Harry yesterday, wants me to go out for pints with him tomorrow. I won't be home until late, probably."
"Oh, that'll be fun. Give him my best, alright?" Pulling out plates, Susan piled a mountain of shepherd's pie on one and a smaller portion on the other, repeating the process with string beans. The little table wasn't big enough for more than place settings. As she grabbed their flatware and made her way to the table, she called over her shoulder, "Would you get our drinks? I think I'll have a Guinness tonight." Susan didn't drink much in the way of alcohol, but once in awhile she got in the mood for something a little stronger than butterbeer.
"Oh, a Guinness huh? Hard day at work? Need to relax with something stronger," he kidded. "Actually, I think I'll have one with you." He walked to the icebox and grabbed two bottles, taking them to the table.
They chatted as they ate, Susan telling him about the sweet old woman who'd brought them bikkies at the clinic. Occasionally Ron would take a bite and make a happy noise, making Susan giggle. She liked that he enjoyed her cooking; that he seemed to be pleased with their new living arrangement. The little house felt more like a home with Ron there, and Susan was as happy as she could ever remember being.
As they lingered over the blueberry tarts, she grinned. "You know, I might have to start making things you don't like so much. There are some noises you just shouldn't make outside the bedroom."
"You better not," he said, swallowing. "I can't help that blueberry's my favorite." He shoved the last bite in his mouth, grabbed his napkin and cleaned his hands. He stood up and walked over to her.
"Would you feel better if I showed you a little attention?" He leaned down and nipped her throat.
"I think you're supposed to wait thirty minutes after eating," she teased, her breath catching as Ron's hands began to move over her body. "But I think I'm willing to risk it."
Summary: Ron and Susan enjoy their new living arrangement.