The Affair/Dramione

Christmas At The Burrow...

POV: Hermione. Christmas Eve 2000. The Burrow.

I was reading Mrs. Weasley's magical recipe book in her kitchen that was handed down from generation to generation. Studying this ridiculous homemade fudge recipe for three hours slaving away over her hot stove with the help of my wand, but it still wasn't easy. I had to get it right. The ingredients had to be the exact measurement. I felt like I was in Snape's Potions class.... But with even more pressure from the Weasley's than him. I was judged by them because I was married to Ron and they were seeing if I was a good cook and seeing if I took care of him properly. I was judged by Snape for a grade. There was an astronomical difference.

"Okay, one teaspoon of vanilla extract." I picked up my wand and the vanilla came oozing out of the tip into the pot. I put the candy thermometer inside and stirred the final ingredient into the mixture with the spoon being controlled by my wand.

"Stir occasionally until the fudge reaches 238*F. Takes 30 minutes." I read aloud and had a damn headache from concentrating so hard.

The fudge was ready to go into a pan. I poured it out and smoothed the top and set it aside to cool.

I took a good look at it with defeat in my heart. "It doesn't look like Mrs. Weasley's. Dammit. I hope tastes good at least." I muttered taking my apron off.

I heard Ron shuffling into the kitchen eating some of his mummy's famous nut brittle that was leaving residue on his maroon jumper. He kissed my cheek and leaned down to look at my fudge I just made.

He had an odd look on his face and scrunched his nose up.

"Doesn't look like mum's." He announced as I about picked up the pan and smacked it across his face with it wanting to say... "does it look like your mummy's now, you prat??!"

Instead I kept somewhat of a composure.

"Thanks Ronald. I've only been in here for the past three hours perfecting this god damn famous fudge of your mummy's! If you don't like it then shove it up your arse and see if it will like it at that end better!"

I stomped away and he stopped me by cutting me off at the staircase.

"Mione, I'm sorry babe. I'm sure it will taste better than it looks." He kissed me on the lips thinking he redeemed himself.

"Mum's starting our Christmas Eve dinner soon. Are you going to help her or do you think it's best to probably just let her and Ginny handle everything?" Ron asked me with fear in his eyes. Obviously, his mummy told him not to let me cook with them.

"No I wouldn't want to muck anything else up. Mummy can have her precious kitchen all to herself with her perfect daughter. Her other favorite daughter in laws are coming soon. They can help." I turned around as he grabbed my wrist.

"What's wrong? You've been on edge since we walked through the door yesterday!" Ron yelled at me in a quiet whisper so no one would hear.

"Nothing Ron. I just feel so much pressure to be perfect here. Perfect at work. Perfect at home. Perfect everywhere! It starts to get to you, you know? I need a break!" I paused and got in his face, to whisper more information of my fury to him. "Your mum has already asked me if I was pregnant, if that's why I've been so moody?! So apparently, I'm the topic of conversation all around this household!" I spat in anger.