Title: The Grangers and the Weasleys

Author: fairytalemanipulator

Summary: In the five years after the Great War that Hermione and Ron dated, their parents had not met. Tonight is the night. Will the lovely couple be able to pull through in one piece?

Spoilers: Post-War, Post-book 7

Rating: PG, not much cursing at all

Pairings: Canon (Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Bill/Fleur)

Disclaimer: I don't own HP, yada yada yada.

Author's note: On a roll here, chapters 1 and 2 to be published simultaneously. Expect frequent updates! Please review and enjoy. Love from the fairytalemanipulator

Chapter 1

"Honestly, Ronald!" Hermione exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. "You said you would be five minutes and here I am waiting a whole half hour for you, you ungrateful, inconsiderate buffoon of a boy! Why you—"

"Relax, 'Mione! We still have an entire hour before your parents arrive, won't you sit down for a moment?" Ron grinned from ear to ear at the sight of his flustered girlfriend, covered in flour from head to toe. She had insisted, for the first Weasley-Granger family get-together, that she would bake 'the Muggle way'. However, she had not protested when Mrs. Weasley, taking in the state of the young woman, led her away for a few moments while she fixed the burnt pastries and half-cooked ham resting on the Weasley's best silver platter.

"Please set the dinner napkins by the plates on the table, Ron," Hermione said in a clipped tone of voice, wrestling with a tub of margarine. Ron slid up beside her, the dinner napkins in one hand, and gently turned her to face him.

"Relax, 'Mione,"

"I can't, not when it's this important! Oh, I want my mum and dad to like yours so much…" Hermione buried her flour-covered head in Ron's chest, scattering the white powder all over his black shirt. With a fond grimace, he pried her head up and took her chin in his hand.

"Hermione, my dad is obsessed with Muggles and my mum loves everyone. From what you've told me about your parents, they are fine, upstanding citizens of Muggle England, so how could they not get along?"

"Oh, Ron," Hermione sighed, putting her arms around his neck. "What would I do without—"

A crash resounded through the upstairs floor of the Burrow, causing a frazzled Hermione to jump in the air and return to her cooking, muttering choice phrases to herself.

Mrs. Weasley poked her head around the partition between the kitchen and den. "Arthur, dear, what was that?"

A strangled sound emitted from the upper floor, as Mr. Weasley's head became visible around the edge of the staircase. "Oh, nothing, Molly dear, Teddy simply thought it would be quite hilarious to tie my shoelaces together. For a five year old, he certainly has inherited Nymphadora's sense of humor,"

Mrs. Weasley rushed upstairs to scold Teddy and give him a much needed bath before the special occasion of the day, motioning for Ron to take over setting the table. Shaking his head, Ron proceeded to the table, trying to remember whether the knife or the fork went first.

"She's really going mental, i-n't she?" Ron asked Pigwidgeon, whose cage hung by the large window next to the table. Repeated crashes and bangs were making Ron jump, and he wanted nothing more than to drag his girlfriend into the main room and make her lie down before she jumped out of her wits.

Truly, he refused to show how afraid he was of combining their two families for the first time; Ron and the Grangers got along quite well, as they had met many times in the five years after the war, but his parents had never met her parents—Ron hoped that the children would behave themselves and George didn't pull one of his infamous tricks today.

"IN THE NAME OF MERLIN'S BAGGIEST Y-FRONTS!" Came the cry from the kitchen, and Ron shook himself out of his thoughts.

"'Mione?"

"THE DAMN BREAD REFUSES TO RISE!"

"What's it supposed to do? Why would it rise?"

"Oh never you mind, Ronald, go back to figuring out table arrangements, I WILL FINISH THIS," Hermione said ominously through clouds of black smoke mysteriously billowing through the oven door. Mrs. Weasley once again came to the rescue; carrying a towel-clad Teddy in one arm and armed with her wand in the other, she set about reducing the smoke and repairing the bread while Teddy yelled "Fire, fire!" at the top of his lungs, bouncing up and down.

"Ron, take the child, will you?" Mrs. Weasley hurriedly tossed Teddy to Ron, who held him at arms length with a bemused expression. Teddy simply giggled and grabbed onto Ron's hair with both hands, causing him to add to the din with a roar of pain.

"Ronald!"

"Hermione, dear! Your apron is on fire!"

"Mum!"

A resounding crack sounded, hushing all parties involved in the incident, sending them facing the direction of the door. There stood Bill, Fleur, and Victoire, staring right back at them with bewildered expressions.

"Oh, hello, dears!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed with a smile, throwing her soot-covered hands up in the air. Refusing to acknowledge the smudge of flour on her nose, she pressed forth and gave her son and daughter in law a hug, lifting her granddaughter into her arms and giving her a kiss on the cheek as well.

"Mum, what the—" Bill looked around, raising his eyebrows, then decided not to finish his question. "When are the Grangers supposed to be here?"

A moan from the kitchen answered his question. "HALF AN HOUR…"

"Oh, 'ello, 'ermione!" Fleur said brightly, her long hair sparkling in the light streaming through the slightly smoky window. "Bill, I shall simply go in zer and see if 'ermione needs 'elp preparing, yes?" She floated off to the kitchen, leaving Bill chatting with his mother and Ron still cringing in pain with Teddy.

"Mum, can you take him and dress him, I'm sure he wants to play with Victoire," Ron said hastily, extracting the child from his death grip.

"Right you are, Ron. Bill, go find your father, make sure he wears his good dress robes and not the dark blue ones he seems to find SO comfortable," Mrs. Weasley said amiably, taking the grinning child from Ron. Victoire followed her grandmother and Bill upstairs, leaving Ron once again in the dining room. He ran a hand through his hair, wincing, and strolled over to the kitchen, peering in at the two chatting companions. Both Fleur and Hermione now had their wands out (Muggle cooking, eh, 'Mione? Ron was smart enough not to voice his observation), whipping dish after dish into Mrs. Weasley's fancy dishes.

Watching her from the back, Ron took in all the things about her he could never voice in a million years. Her hair, once known as bushy, streamed in beautiful frizzy curls down her back. Her casually flowing dress showed off her best assets (he grinned internally at the pun), and as she moved, she emitted a radiant grace that even Fleur with her veela blood could not imitate.

He leaned against the doorframe, taking in the love of my life.

He shook his head at his internal ramblings. When did I become such a sap?

Another bang and a shriek of delight came from upstairs; Fleur and Hermione didn't even turn, they continued to chat amiably. The entire family coming together to meet Hermione's parents was an unforeseen event; however, if the Grangers were to meet the Weasleys, Ron supposed they had to meet all the Weasleys.

Family's quite necessary, isn't it, Ron thought to himself, grinning at Hermione trying to blow a stray hair off of her forehead while stirring one pot with her wand and the other with a large spoon.