14Chapter 2 – From the Black Smoke, I Say it's Lasagna
Ron Apparated to the back alley of Hermione's flat, so that none of her Muggle neighbors could notice him. He slowly walked his way around towards the front of her white two-story flat. He immediately noticed the contrasting color of a black smoke cloud bellowing out from the small rectangular opening near the bottom of her front door.
Rarr! roared a disgruntled flat-faced red-haired furball that leapt out of the flat through the small rectangular opening and dashed towards her flower garden for safety.
He was more surprised at seeing that Crookshanks had his own pet door and less surprised at the puffy black clouds that were rolling out of it. After all he was used to Hermione's cooking and it took only a few sniffs of the smoke to recognize that she was cooking Lasagna again.
The black smoke magically stopped bellowing out and started to suck back into the house in reverse as Ron took the time to look at his watch.
Six forty-two. Hmm… I'm early.
Bamm! Bizzz!
Ron looked up from his watch to see a flash of white light in every window of Hermione's flat quickly followed with every Muggle light simultaneously going dark. He could even hear Hermione's yell from inside, as she screamed, "I don't have time for this!"
Bizz!
The lights all magically turned on again as he patiently tapped his foot waiting for some more time to pass before knocking on the front door. He even smiled over at a Muggle couple walking their dog across the street, looking strangely at him and Hermione's flat.
Kaa Boom! Crash!
A red explosion lit up Hermione's kitchen window along with a brass pot crashing through her front kitchen window then soaring past his head to land directly in front of the shell-shocked Muggles watching him and the flat.
"Aggh! Come back here!" Hermione shouted from the kitchen.
"Nice day isn't it," Ron said with a smile to the jumpy Muggles who looked as if they were in total fear of Hermione's flat. He casually walked across the street and picked up the smoking pot of boiled tomatoes in front of the wide-eyed Muggles who looked as if this was the first time they had ever seen a pot of tomatoes getting blasted across the street from Hermione's stove.
"Do... do… d'you live there?" the scared Muggle husband asked, as he pushed his wife behind him for safety.
"Me? No sorry, mate. I'm just the poor bloke that has to eat this stuff," he joked back to them while trying to hold the pot steady as no doubt Hermione was trying to magically summon it back into the flat.
It gave the impression to the Muggles that the pot contained something alive and dangerous, as he had to fight it to keep it in his hands.
"My condolences," offered the worried Muggle woman as she grabbed her husband and leashed dog before making a hasty retreat down the street.
He waited till they ran around the corner before releasing the pot and watched as it flew through Hermione's broken front kitchen window. The window glass pane immediately began to reseal itself from the broken glass pieces all over her front yard.
Normally, about his time he would offer to help her in the kitchen to keep the explosions down to a minimum but she was always too stubborn to let him help. Therefore, he walked back across the street and patiently waited on her front porch before he would knock on her door at seven.
Bizzz!
He watched as the front light went out again.
"Grrr!" growled Hermione. "I should've ordered out!"
He silently agreed with her and wondered if he should just go down the street to the local neighborhood Chinese take-out and order a few cartons for them to eat.
Bang!
He heard the unmistakable sound of Hermione tossing her brass pots and pans into the sink followed by her front door opening up. She apparently was of the same mind as Ron as she looked ready to run down to the Chinese restaurant before she assumed he got there.
"Hello, Hermione," Ron said as he smiled at a shocked and disheveled Hermione.
She was wearing a once very nice silk grey dress that was covered with different sized circles of Olive oil, black smudges from when the stove blew up and various assortments of flour and tomato juice. Which normally be the worse of it, but Hermione's bushy hair was covered in white flour giving the appearance that she was a ghost.
"Ek... Ron… you're early," Hermione shrieked in fear as she froze at her front door staring at him.
"Uh… yeah. Sorry about that. Say, I was wondering if you want to maybe go to a restaurant—"
Hermione flashed a look of worry across her face before she immediately settled down with a pleasant, reassuring, and in-charge smile.
"No need for that. I'm almost done," confirmed Hermione in a lie as she waved her wand to re-light all of her Muggle lights in her house.
"You know, there's a really good Chinese-" He stated but never got to finish his suggestion as Hermione pulled him into her house.
"Ron, relax. I'm just having some problems with the Muggle lighting and wiring in this old house. Dinner is practically read to be – oh you brought me some flowers."
"Er… yeah,' He answered as he lifted the flowers out of his coat and handed them to a smiling Hermione who sniffed in their scent.
"It's from The Burrow, I can tell." Hermione knowingly informed him with a pleasant smile on her face.
"Yeah, Mum, grows them and I remembered that red was your favorite color."
"It's Maroon actually," responded Hermione as she placed them inside an empty crystal vase and then used her wand to fill up the vase with water.
Ron, who was never a fan of Maroon, had to bite down on his tongue not to angrily reply on what he thought about the ruddy color of Maroon.
Pisss!
Ron and Hermione listened to the unmistakable sound of boiling water overflowing a pot from inside the kitchen.
"Now, Ron, you sit right over there on the couch and make yourself comfortable," ordered Hermione who quickly rushed into the kitchen and slammed the door magically shut.
He heard the brass clattering of pans that she was undoubtedly removing from the sink and putting back on top of the stove. The noise was followed quickly by a sharp howl of pain from Hermione, "Ow! Shh!" Who was trying her best to muffle her own voice after her first hollering in pain and then he heard the unmistakable sound of running water in the sink that she undoubtedly was cooling off her burnt hand with.
Stubborn git. He shook his head, got up off the couch and made his way over to Hermione's kitchen door.
"Hermione! This is silly, let me in to help you."
"No, Ron, everything is fine," whimpered a hurt Hermione like a poor animal that had been run over.
He continued to frown at her stubborn reply before he pulled out his wand and waved it to open the kitchen door. What he saw would make even his poor Mum gasped with a heart attack. Patches of burnt pasta, tomato sauce, and melted cheese were plastered all over the kitchen. Magically levitating knives were no longer chopping salad and instead were busy cutting a long loaf of French bread into crumbs. Small winged glasses of various spices were flying around the kitchen like they were a flock of birds. All the pots were over-boiling, the stove was puffing out black smoke, and in the middle of it all stood his Hermione holding her burnt hand about to cry as she gazed miserably over at him.
Being Ron at this delicate moment, he couldn't help but brag to Hermione, "It looks like your cooking has improved - at least this time the stove is still in the kitchen."
Paugh! Crash!
He spoke to soon, the stove door popped open and pitched out a scorched pan of Lasagna across the room. It was so overcooked and rubbery that it merely bounced off the wall and landed upside down two feet in front of him.
He couldn't help himself – he howled with laughter.
"HAHAHA-HAHAH!"
"It's not funny!" Hermione pouted to him but after a few seconds even she started to laugh with him. "Ha-ha HAHA!"
He eventually stopped laughed so he could wave his wand to wrap Hermione's hand in bandages and begin the process of repairing the kitchen and then later on hopefully their relationship.
"Ha-Ha. Thank you, Ron." Hermione said to him, as she felt a bit relieved that her scalded hand was covered in bandages. "I have some ointments in the bathroom that can cure this."
"You go ahead and I'll see about straighten this up."
She caringly smiled at him and it reminded him how much he missed her. Merlin – he had missed her. He didn't even let her pass him as he boldly reached out and grabbed her by her waist.
"Ron," Hermione asked in confusion, as she was looking at him and then looking at the decreasing distances between their lips.
He never was one with words and as his lips pulsated against her's and their bodies collided with one another - he wasn't about to start.