A/N: A quick Romione drabble that I wrote for Quirkellect on tumblr, with the prompt of: "Hermione killing or releasing a spider for Ron." I hope you enjoy!

There was something magical about having a place of their own. A place in which they could fully and completely be a couple. School was over for Hermione, Auror training was over for Ron, and now they could just… be. She always liked the idea of existing normally, of eschewing the past and just living. Hermione had never wanted an overly complex life, but that life had come with Harry and that life had come with Ron and they meant too much to her.

But when there was nothing to fight for, she could finally admit that what she genuinely craved was silence. What she really, desperately wanted was to learn to cook for Ron, so that when he came home at night she would be able to surprise him with a dinner. What she really desired was to wake up in the morning and be able to see his sleeping face right next to hers, and to fall asleep at night listening to the music of his snores. The image that she cleaved to was a simple picture of her and Ron in a house with brunet and ginger children.

Although many people would berate her for it, she wanted to be domestic. Her career was more important than that, of course, but Hermione saw no reason as to why she couldn't compartmentalize the different components of her life. She helped defeat Voldemort, after all. Why couldn't she be super woman in other aspects, too? Yes, she wanted victories in court, but she also wanted to be celebrated on mother's day. This flat was the first step towards that.

When they had initially decided to move in together, Ron and Hermione had both expected some sort of resistance from their family members, but had found that, in the aftermath of the war, nobody really cared if two people that loved each other chose to be together. It was their prerogative, according to Mrs. Weasley. Ron added later that it would probably by extremely hypocritical of them to judge Ron and Hermione for moving in so young, as they had gotten pregnant with Bill around that age. Still, they had expected more opposition. After all, most nineteen year olds weren't living with their significant others, something that even Hermione was quick to point out. But they also weren't normal nineteen year olds. They were brave and strong and independent and-


A panicked yell from Ron interrupted Hermione from her relaxed stupor. She twisted her body on the couch so that she could see her boyfriend. Her shoulder knocked into him as she moved, but he was too focused to notice.

"What's wrong?" she asked, half laughing at the look on his face because she knew what this was. In answer, Ron continued to stare at their new coffee table. Hermione spun around to look at where his gaze was so pointedly fixed, already resigning herself to having to get up and grab a tissue.

And there it was. A big, black spider.

"Spider," Ron whispered.

"Thank you, love, I hadn't gotten that yet."

He narrowed his eyes at her and stuck out his tongue.

"Just kill it, Hermione," he pleaded.

In response, she got off of her comfortable spot on the couch, resenting him very deeply for disrupting her peace, and grabbed a tissue from the side table. She scooped the spider onto the tissue, opened the door, and threw the spider outside, then dumped the tissue into the garbage.

"Happy?" she inquired, returning to the sofa. Ron gave her a cheeky grin, knowing that it would melt her annoyance.


Hermione sat down once more and leaned her head on Ron's shoulder, eying the bare mantel above the fireplace. She suddenly had an image of it covered in pictures of their friends and family and felt herself ease back into a content that she always experienced when she was with the man she loved. She reached up to kiss Ron, then murmured against his lips,

"Is the rest of our life together going to be me killing spiders for you, Mr. Weasley?"

"Yes," he answered promptly. "And thank you in advance."

"Well," Hermione started, turning around so that her knees were on the soft cushion and she was facing her boyfriend. "What do I get in return?"

"You get to have sex with me," Ron pointed out seriously.

Hermione thought about this for a second, then nodded.

"Okay, excellent point."

"Right, then."

He smiled at her, brushing her hair away from her face and moving his thumb to outline her lips.

"Well?" Hermione said impatiently.

"Well what?" Ron replied.

"When am I getting my reward?"

"Oh!" he said. "Now?"

"Now," Hermione said simply.

"It's the middle of the afternoon!" Ron said, shocked.

"And who exactly is going to walk in on us, do you think?"

"You are a brilliant woman."

"I know. Now ravish me."

The brilliance of domesticity.