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„So. This is it then?“ Ron stared at his plate suspiciously.
An outside observer would have seen that his nose was wrinkled and his neck was bet backwards, trying to keep his face as far away as possible. But there was no outside observer in the small kitchen with the light blue kitchen fronts and the small table set for two, just Hermione, bending over to get her own serving out of the oven.
„Yes, Ron,“ she said patiently without turning round. „This is pizza. Pizza margharita, to be precise. Yeast dough, tomato sauce, oregano and mozzarella. A simple classic.“
Ron made a non-committable noise, his face frozen in distrust. But his stomach was growling audibly.
They had, of course, talked about it: Muggle food.
„If we really move in together, please be aware that I still want to eat my favourite Muggle food,“ Hermione had said to him while leafing through a muggle furniture catalogue. Ron had unwisely chosen this moment to make a remark about how Hermione wasn’t that good of a cook anyway and this led to a rather long and pretty loud argument containing terms like „weaponized helplessness“, „gendered household tasks“ and „unpaid care work“ (Hermione had been reading a lot of insightful texts since starting her muggle university courses). It ended with Ron taking cooking lessons with a delighted Molly Weasley and Hermione introducing Ron to Muggle food on the reg. Today’s dish was, as said before, pizza. And Ron was not sure about it.
It wasn’t even that their previous forrays into the realm of Muggle culinary had been too bad. In fact, Ron was pretty pleased with kebab (in the end, it was similar to sandwiches). Nevertheless, the round slice of dough with the steaming coat of cheese over a thin layer of tomato sauce didn’t look like anything he had eaten before.
Hermione sat down with her own pizza and looked at Rons face. For a moment, she seemed unsure if she should roll her eyes or giggle. She decided to raise her eyebrow. „It won’t bite you, you know.“
Ron swallowed. It wasn’t that he wanted to annoy her. He just wished they could go slower in their food-related adventures. Start with small tasks, like cooking his mum’s recipes and see if they’d survive that, before making new experiments. He looked around frantically, trying to find a way to disctract Hermione. His gaze fell upon her plate.
„Why does your pizza look so different from mine?“
Hermione smiled fondly at her pizza. It had no red sauce. „Ah, that’s a pizza bianca with caramellized red onions and three different kinds of cheese. It’s my favourite, but I thought it might be easier if you started with the ultimate classic.“
With a well-practised move, she cut her white pizza in six triangles, using a weird tool with a round blade and offered it to him. This turned out to be harder than it looked and it took Ron two attempts to go through the stubborn dough. Hermione had already started eating when he was done.
In fact, she was munching away – a rare sight. Usually, Hermione ate way slower. And quieter. Right now she made noises that made Ron’s breath hitch and his brain think dirty thoughts. They also made him curious. Food that made Hermione sound like she had a seriously erotic experience was instantly more interesting. He grabbed a pizza triangle and shoved it into his mouth, ready to join Hermione in her ecstacy, when...
„Ow!“ he yelled around an extremely hot blob of molten cheese clinging to his gums. „Merlin’s balls!“
The hellish triangle fell down on his plate – and suddenly, the tip of Hermione’s wand was pointed at his face. For a split second, Ron was afraid his girlfriend would hex him for not appreciating the pizza. But she just mumbled a cooling spell that immediately eased his pain and grabbed his hand.
„I’m so sorry, Ron!“ she said sincerly. „I said it wouldn’t bite you but I totally forgot! Pizza is really mean sometimes and many people burn their mouths at the first bite.“
„You didn’t burn your mouth,“ Ron said sulkily. He felt personally attacked. Maybe pizza did only attack unsuspecting witches and wizards?
„Well, I blew on mine before biting off a piece.“ Hermione smiled apologetically. „I didn’t think of telling you to do so. Unlike you I’m used to the dangers of molten cheese.“ She hesitated, looked longingly at her plate and sighed. „Would you rather eat something else, less dangerous?“
This was unexpected. Usually, she didn't back away from food she liked. Ron frowned and found himself not wanting to give up. Not after having seen her reaction to pizza.
„No way,“ he said and, feeling very Gryffindor-ishly brave, he lifted the pizza triangle again, blew on it (the aforementioned outside observer might have considered his blowing a bit excessive) and carefully took a tiny bite.
This time, his brain wasn’t clogged with pain and thus able to concentrate on the taste. He froze and stared into the distance. It took a minute or two until he heard Hermione’s voice and realized she was waving her hand in front of his face.
„Are you okay, darling?“ she asked anxiously.
Ron nodded his head, slowly, and finally swallowed. „Hermione,“ he whispered. „Oh Merlin, this is so good!“
And then, there was no holding back anymore. Under Hermione’s gaze – first confused, then amused – Ron devoured his pizza in practically no time, leaving nothing behind, not even the tiniest crumb. He had never ever eaten something like this. Pizza, he was sure of it, was pure, baked love. The molten cheese on top? Love. The spicy tomato sauce? Love. The crispy dough underneath? Love, definitely. He couldn’t understand how he had lived without pizza before, how he could have considered not eating it mere minutes ago – and how we could continue to live with this piece of paradise gone forever.
„Hermione,“ he said finally, his lips trembling.
She grinned at him expectantly, her mouth smeared with fat and small crumbs, about to lick her fingers. „Yes, Ron?“
„Hermione, you know that I love you,“ he began. „But I also love pizza. We need to open this relationship because I need to gain more experience with all kinds of pizza now.“
Hermione threw her head back and her laughter echoed from the light blue kitchen fronts. This marked the day on which Ron Weasley became a strong supporter of all foods Muggle and also The Person Officially Responsible For Our Weekly Meal Plan.