Fic: Comfort Food. Lupercalia fest fic for n_nanini
Title: Comfort Food
Summary: Ron is a comfort eater and Hermione is a filthy enabler.
Characters/Pairings: Ron/Hermione
Genre: pretty much fluff/romance
Beta: None, sorry, so there will probably be mistakes and such
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, very small amount of drinking
Word Count: 1,828
Author's Notes: Written for Nan/n_nanini and her wish for something to do with food. I haven't written Ron/Hermione in ages, so I hope it's not too far off. And I hope you like it <3
Hermione had been in her last meeting of the day when her phone vibrated suddenly in the pocket of her robes. In all honesty, she hadn’t been paying as much attention as she should, anyway, as one of her colleagues presented the results of a project that didn’t really pertain to her area of the department at all. Sneaking looks at the rest of the table, she’d pulled out the phone and peeked down at the display quickly.
Lost the huge client.
She’d bit her lip and typed off a quick reply.
An hour.
Catching a co-worker’s eyes across the table, she’d blushed as she pocketed her phone.
Now she was hanging up her cloak, balancing the light blue box in one hand and quickly shifting it to the other as she attempted to jump out of her shoes. Sometimes she wondered if hassling Ron into getting a magical cell phone had been one of her worst ideas, but then again at least she didn’t have to deal with Pigwidgeon on a regular basis.
Ron was sprawled on the couch in his living room, his head thrown back and his arms flung out to either side. His eyes were closed and his hair was a complete mess. She slid down next to him and put the box down on the table, pushing the lid open. Facing Ron, she curled up on the couch, resting her cheek against the back of it.
“I brought brownies.”
Ron only gurgled in the back of his throat and Hermione was unsure what to make of that. Not wanting to make matters worse, she just waited until he finally opened his eyes and sat up straighter. She only watched him silently as he reached forwards and grabbed a large piece of cake from the box.
“I thought brownies were for break ups,” he said, his lips curling into a miniscule smile.
“God, no,” she said, scoffing. “Break ups are cheesecake, half of Honeydukes and at least two-thirds of my secret alcohol stash.”
A laugh escaped him, but it was hollow and Hermione gave a sympathetic smile.
“What happened?”
Ron ran a slightly shaky hand through his hair and puffed out his cheeks. “I just messed up. Things were running crazy at the shop and I was tardy in my response to them, I suppose.”
“It’s fine,” she said, reaching over to break off a piece of brownie. “It happens to everyone.”
“George is so angry.” Ron looked away and sighed. “He’s told me to be more prompt when dealing with the clients, but it just drowns in everything else. I keep telling him we need help at the store, but he wants it to be a ‘family business’.”
“He’ll come around. He just needs time.”
“This is great brownies,” Ron said with his mouth full.
She laughed merrily. “Yeah, you keep saying that every time I bring them.”
It was a strange arrangement they had, she supposed. Ron was a comfort eater and she was a filthy enabler. Whenever something bad happened, he’d text and she’d bring the appropriate baked goods for the appropriate situation. Harry always thought it was strange, but it worked for them somehow. It was a comfortable thing and it allowed her to be there for Ron even when he was ashamed to ask for any help beyond food. He’d never been good at asking for help, but he’d always been fairly good at asking for food, so Hermione could play along with that.
The only time they didn’t regularly do this dance was when Ron was dating someone, because then it was just weird. His girlfriends felt threatened and she understood why. She would have been too if she were in their shoes. And the one time she’d been a relationship, she hadn’t gone off to comfort eat with him either, though she had felt really bad about it. For some reason, bringing Ron all this comfort food always felt like her only way of being there for him these days. And when that fell through, she felt like a useless friend.
“The remote,” Ron said, barely articulating the words as he waved his hand. “Wanna watch TV.”
She got the remote off the table and sent him a sideways glance. “I never should’ve introduced you to the new magical versions of Muggle technology. Worst idea of my life.”
“Worse than the time you tried to give Crookshanks a bath?”
“Yes.”
“Liar.”
[---]
Sick :(
That was all he’d written and she didn’t even know if he just had a cold or if he was about to die of some kind of magical infection. In the end it didn’t matter, though. She still went in to three separate stores in Diagon Alley to stock up and headed over to his flat straight after work. Harry would say she was crazy, but she always told him she’d do the same for him if he didn’t have Ginny. She hated that doubtful look he gave her in response, though. She hated it a lot.
“Hey.” She peeked her head out from the small gap in the door. The room was bathed in darkness and there was an answering groan from the bed. “I have soup.”
There was a muffled string of words that sounded suspiciously like “I love you”, but she ignored it and got her wand out of her robes with slight difficulty. A muttered lumos sent a soft light into the room and Ron pulled the cover over his head with a curse.
She perched herself on the side of the queen sized bed that Ron didn’t occupy and began shuffling through the different containers she’d brought.
“Sit up,” she told him and helped him arrange the pillows behind his back.
Soon he was eating soup as he tried to pay attention to all the potions she’d brought. She shuffled through them and handed him them in turn, telling him when to take which one and why. Then she pulled out a box of biscuits and sat back against the pillows.
“I know what will make you feel better,” she said, smiling slightly as she looked over at him. He looked miserable and tired and she pushed away the urge to wrap him into her arms and keep him there until he felt better.
“I really doubt it,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“I’ll tell you the newest edition in the ‘Draco Malfoy and Seamus Finnigan working together’-saga. You’ll love it.”
He perked up slightly at that and she laughed, reaching over to carefully push his hair away from his hot forehead.
[---]
When Ron was dating Mira from the Department of Magical Transportation, she couldn’t exactly run to his flat every time something went wrong, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to. Neither did it stop him from texting, which made it doubly difficult. Harry pointed out that Ron had a Ginny too now, so she could stop worrying about it. She glared at him very hard. And she figured Harry might have brought up something to Ron as well, as she got the following text on a rainy Tuesday:
Harry not talking to me. Could use some pie.
Sorry. You guys will make up sooner or later. Sending you virtual pies!
She didn’t bring him any pies, but she did leave a cupcake on the counter at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes when he was in the storage room.
[---]
Hermione was drunk. It wasn’t very often she was quite this drunk, but it hadn’t been planned really. It wasn’t that she regretted it either as she was curled up on the couch, laughing so hard she had tears running down her cheek and Ron had the biggest goofy grin on his face. She didn’t know if he should be grinning like that after he’d just gotten dumped, but wasn’t that why she’d dipped into her alcohol stash in the first place?
When she tried to get to the cheesecake, she nearly knocked the bottle of Firewhisky off the table and she started laughing again, falling into his lap and struggling to get a grip on her flailing limbs. He grinned down at her and suddenly his thumb was on her cheek and her laughter died abruptly.
“You’re a good friend,” he said, his words slightly slurred.
Pushing herself from his lap with her heart fluttering wildly, she tried not to sound shrill as she made a joke out of the compliment and pushed herself into the corner of the couch for the rest of the night.
[---]
Got hexed badly. Need biscuits.
She ran as fast as she could. How did he expect her to care about biscuits when he didn’t even elaborate on being hexed, not even when she tried to call and ask? She somehow managed to grab a box of a cheap brand off of a shelf and make a mad dash towards his flat anyway. When she stopped inside and dropped her cloak unceremoniously to the floor, her heart was beating so hard in her chest that she was afraid it would escape out of her throat.
Just as she dashed into his living room, he stood from the couch looking very healthy for someone who had just been hexed badly.
“What…?” She waved her hand in an attempt to find the words, but they seemed to lodge in her throat.
“I lied,” he said. At least he had the decency to look mildly ashamed.
Her worry was very, very quickly replaced by anger that coiled tight in her chest.
“Why?” She sounded shrill even to her own ears.
Instead of answering, he moved towards her and she stared at him with blood roaring in her ears as he cupped her face in his hands and smiled in that way that always made her knees slightly wobbly. His lips brushed against hers softly. When she didn’t pull back, he kissed her again, his lips warm and searching. Something came undone inside her and she dropped the pack of biscuits to wrap her arms around his neck, opening her mouth into his warm kiss.
“I’m sorry,” he said, when they parted. “I should’ve thought of something other than being injured.”
Trying to shake the dizziness that clouded her head, she stood completely still for a moment before she hit her fist hard against his chest.
“Ow,” he complained, pouting ridiculously.
“If you ever lie to me again, you will be badly hexed.”
He smiled crookedly and looked at her with a gaze so playful that her anger seemed to crumble into tiny, insignificant bits.
“Will you bring me biscuits afterwards?”
“Shut up,” she told him, but smiled against his lips.
Ing//Puff//61 points
Summary: Ron is a comfort eater and Hermione is a filthy enabler.
Characters/Pairings: Ron/Hermione
Genre: pretty much fluff/romance
Beta: None, sorry, so there will probably be mistakes and such
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, very small amount of drinking
Word Count: 1,828
Author's Notes: Written for Nan/n_nanini and her wish for something to do with food. I haven't written Ron/Hermione in ages, so I hope it's not too far off. And I hope you like it <3
Hermione had been in her last meeting of the day when her phone vibrated suddenly in the pocket of her robes. In all honesty, she hadn’t been paying as much attention as she should, anyway, as one of her colleagues presented the results of a project that didn’t really pertain to her area of the department at all. Sneaking looks at the rest of the table, she’d pulled out the phone and peeked down at the display quickly.
Lost the huge client.
She’d bit her lip and typed off a quick reply.
An hour.
Catching a co-worker’s eyes across the table, she’d blushed as she pocketed her phone.
Now she was hanging up her cloak, balancing the light blue box in one hand and quickly shifting it to the other as she attempted to jump out of her shoes. Sometimes she wondered if hassling Ron into getting a magical cell phone had been one of her worst ideas, but then again at least she didn’t have to deal with Pigwidgeon on a regular basis.
Ron was sprawled on the couch in his living room, his head thrown back and his arms flung out to either side. His eyes were closed and his hair was a complete mess. She slid down next to him and put the box down on the table, pushing the lid open. Facing Ron, she curled up on the couch, resting her cheek against the back of it.
“I brought brownies.”
Ron only gurgled in the back of his throat and Hermione was unsure what to make of that. Not wanting to make matters worse, she just waited until he finally opened his eyes and sat up straighter. She only watched him silently as he reached forwards and grabbed a large piece of cake from the box.
“I thought brownies were for break ups,” he said, his lips curling into a miniscule smile.
“God, no,” she said, scoffing. “Break ups are cheesecake, half of Honeydukes and at least two-thirds of my secret alcohol stash.”
A laugh escaped him, but it was hollow and Hermione gave a sympathetic smile.
“What happened?”
Ron ran a slightly shaky hand through his hair and puffed out his cheeks. “I just messed up. Things were running crazy at the shop and I was tardy in my response to them, I suppose.”
“It’s fine,” she said, reaching over to break off a piece of brownie. “It happens to everyone.”
“George is so angry.” Ron looked away and sighed. “He’s told me to be more prompt when dealing with the clients, but it just drowns in everything else. I keep telling him we need help at the store, but he wants it to be a ‘family business’.”
“He’ll come around. He just needs time.”
“This is great brownies,” Ron said with his mouth full.
She laughed merrily. “Yeah, you keep saying that every time I bring them.”
It was a strange arrangement they had, she supposed. Ron was a comfort eater and she was a filthy enabler. Whenever something bad happened, he’d text and she’d bring the appropriate baked goods for the appropriate situation. Harry always thought it was strange, but it worked for them somehow. It was a comfortable thing and it allowed her to be there for Ron even when he was ashamed to ask for any help beyond food. He’d never been good at asking for help, but he’d always been fairly good at asking for food, so Hermione could play along with that.
The only time they didn’t regularly do this dance was when Ron was dating someone, because then it was just weird. His girlfriends felt threatened and she understood why. She would have been too if she were in their shoes. And the one time she’d been a relationship, she hadn’t gone off to comfort eat with him either, though she had felt really bad about it. For some reason, bringing Ron all this comfort food always felt like her only way of being there for him these days. And when that fell through, she felt like a useless friend.
“The remote,” Ron said, barely articulating the words as he waved his hand. “Wanna watch TV.”
She got the remote off the table and sent him a sideways glance. “I never should’ve introduced you to the new magical versions of Muggle technology. Worst idea of my life.”
“Worse than the time you tried to give Crookshanks a bath?”
“Yes.”
“Liar.”
[---]
Sick :(
That was all he’d written and she didn’t even know if he just had a cold or if he was about to die of some kind of magical infection. In the end it didn’t matter, though. She still went in to three separate stores in Diagon Alley to stock up and headed over to his flat straight after work. Harry would say she was crazy, but she always told him she’d do the same for him if he didn’t have Ginny. She hated that doubtful look he gave her in response, though. She hated it a lot.
“Hey.” She peeked her head out from the small gap in the door. The room was bathed in darkness and there was an answering groan from the bed. “I have soup.”
There was a muffled string of words that sounded suspiciously like “I love you”, but she ignored it and got her wand out of her robes with slight difficulty. A muttered lumos sent a soft light into the room and Ron pulled the cover over his head with a curse.
She perched herself on the side of the queen sized bed that Ron didn’t occupy and began shuffling through the different containers she’d brought.
“Sit up,” she told him and helped him arrange the pillows behind his back.
Soon he was eating soup as he tried to pay attention to all the potions she’d brought. She shuffled through them and handed him them in turn, telling him when to take which one and why. Then she pulled out a box of biscuits and sat back against the pillows.
“I know what will make you feel better,” she said, smiling slightly as she looked over at him. He looked miserable and tired and she pushed away the urge to wrap him into her arms and keep him there until he felt better.
“I really doubt it,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“I’ll tell you the newest edition in the ‘Draco Malfoy and Seamus Finnigan working together’-saga. You’ll love it.”
He perked up slightly at that and she laughed, reaching over to carefully push his hair away from his hot forehead.
[---]
When Ron was dating Mira from the Department of Magical Transportation, she couldn’t exactly run to his flat every time something went wrong, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to. Neither did it stop him from texting, which made it doubly difficult. Harry pointed out that Ron had a Ginny too now, so she could stop worrying about it. She glared at him very hard. And she figured Harry might have brought up something to Ron as well, as she got the following text on a rainy Tuesday:
Harry not talking to me. Could use some pie.
Sorry. You guys will make up sooner or later. Sending you virtual pies!
She didn’t bring him any pies, but she did leave a cupcake on the counter at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes when he was in the storage room.
[---]
Hermione was drunk. It wasn’t very often she was quite this drunk, but it hadn’t been planned really. It wasn’t that she regretted it either as she was curled up on the couch, laughing so hard she had tears running down her cheek and Ron had the biggest goofy grin on his face. She didn’t know if he should be grinning like that after he’d just gotten dumped, but wasn’t that why she’d dipped into her alcohol stash in the first place?
When she tried to get to the cheesecake, she nearly knocked the bottle of Firewhisky off the table and she started laughing again, falling into his lap and struggling to get a grip on her flailing limbs. He grinned down at her and suddenly his thumb was on her cheek and her laughter died abruptly.
“You’re a good friend,” he said, his words slightly slurred.
Pushing herself from his lap with her heart fluttering wildly, she tried not to sound shrill as she made a joke out of the compliment and pushed herself into the corner of the couch for the rest of the night.
[---]
Got hexed badly. Need biscuits.
She ran as fast as she could. How did he expect her to care about biscuits when he didn’t even elaborate on being hexed, not even when she tried to call and ask? She somehow managed to grab a box of a cheap brand off of a shelf and make a mad dash towards his flat anyway. When she stopped inside and dropped her cloak unceremoniously to the floor, her heart was beating so hard in her chest that she was afraid it would escape out of her throat.
Just as she dashed into his living room, he stood from the couch looking very healthy for someone who had just been hexed badly.
“What…?” She waved her hand in an attempt to find the words, but they seemed to lodge in her throat.
“I lied,” he said. At least he had the decency to look mildly ashamed.
Her worry was very, very quickly replaced by anger that coiled tight in her chest.
“Why?” She sounded shrill even to her own ears.
Instead of answering, he moved towards her and she stared at him with blood roaring in her ears as he cupped her face in his hands and smiled in that way that always made her knees slightly wobbly. His lips brushed against hers softly. When she didn’t pull back, he kissed her again, his lips warm and searching. Something came undone inside her and she dropped the pack of biscuits to wrap her arms around his neck, opening her mouth into his warm kiss.
“I’m sorry,” he said, when they parted. “I should’ve thought of something other than being injured.”
Trying to shake the dizziness that clouded her head, she stood completely still for a moment before she hit her fist hard against his chest.
“Ow,” he complained, pouting ridiculously.
“If you ever lie to me again, you will be badly hexed.”
He smiled crookedly and looked at her with a gaze so playful that her anger seemed to crumble into tiny, insignificant bits.
“Will you bring me biscuits afterwards?”
“Shut up,” she told him, but smiled against his lips.
Ing//Puff//61 points