Title: El Tango de Crookshanks
Requested by: MagikCat
Genre: Romance/Humor
Prompt: Crookshanks
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 499

Written for Checkmated's Valentine's Drabble Gift Exchange, back in February.


This wasn't like Hermione had expected to spend the rest of her Valentine's Day, rubbing a salve on her husband's back while he moaned and complained under his breath about their old cat.

"Wait until I get my hands on him…" Ron kept muttering while Hermione hoped Crookshanks had hidden pretty well this time.

"OW, Hermione! Are you mental? My back's has been damaged enough as it is, and you sitting on top of me won't help matters!"

"Are you calling me fat?" Her voice dripped with deceiving sweetness.

He seemed to sense the danger and hastily corrected this mishap.

"Not at all, dear. It just bloody hurts so bloody much that I can't think straight, that's all." She sighed and tried to ignore the urge to whack the back of Ron's head; his back was sprained pretty badly, and his ego was just as injured.

The night had held such promise. This was George and Angie's turn to babysit the kids for Valentine's Day, so that her and Ron, as well as all her brothers and sisters-in-law, could've part of the evening to themselves.

Ron had been acting so secretive over the past month that when Valentine's Day approached, Hermione felt exhilaratingly excited for it.

If only Crookshanks hadn't interrupted them…

When she'd come home from work, Ron was grinning proudly from their kitchen. The house was decorated with floating candles and lilacs, her favourite flower; he'd cooked them a delicious meal and sent Hugo and Rose to their uncle's house so they could wine and dine without interruptions.

It was all very romantic.

Afterwards, Ron got up and clapped his hands. The first accords of violins filled the room. He smiled at her surprise, and finally shared his secret with her.

"I've been taking tango lessons for you." Hermione felt herself melt, for lack of a better metaphor. She'd fallen in love with him all over again.

"Do you like it?" He'd asked, looking exactly the self-doubting boy she'd met years ago.

"I love it, Ron!" And she'd jumped into his welcoming arms.

They'd danced for a while, the slow, sensual movements of the tango setting an ideal mood for the conclusion of a perfect night.

Then they'd decided to tango upstairs, before George brought the children back, and Hermione felt ready to show Ron how much she'd treasured their evening.

But when he was on top of her, raising ever so slowly her cetin dress and raining exciting kisses on her collarbone, Crookshanks silently entered the room and hopped into their bed, presenting them, elated, with a half-chewed spider.

Ron gave a half-yelp, half-scream and accidentally rolled out of the mattress, taking her with him. They'd landed on the floor with a loud thud, Hermione now on top of him, and Crookshanks ran for his life when Ron screamed, furious.

"Crookshanks! You come back here this instant!"

No, this definitely wasn't like Hermione had expected to spend the rest of her Valentine's Day at all.