Hermione was making a pie for the love of her life, Ron, for Christmas. Once Mrs. Weasley had told her, "I've yet to find a way to make a man love a woman better than baking. It really is true that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach." So Hermione decided to make Ron an apple pie.
She was in her kitchen at home with Harry, who was helping her, as he had done a lot of the cooking when he lived at Privet Drive. Hermione had assembled the ingredients in front of her, along with a yellow mixing bowl and other sorts of baking utensils. Hermione then pulled her hair back into a bun and put on an apron to preserve her clothing. Plus, she liked the home-maker look. Harry eyed the ingredients with an arched eyebrow. Then, in a confused voice he asked her, "Is that … maple syrup?"
"Of course it is! Don't tell me you've never made pie without maple syrup!"
"Hermione, you may be the brightest witch of our time, but you're positively hopeless when it comes to baking. Why don't you just conjure up a pie? Or ask Mrs. Weasley to make one for you? Or buy one at the store?"
"Mrs. Weasley said I had to bake it! How else am I supposed to get Ron to love me?"
"I love Ginny just fine, and she's never baked me so much as a brownie from a mix. You're being ridiculous. Mrs. Weasley wasn't telling you what to do, she was making a comment."
"But, Ron's already experienced my bad cooking! He walked out on us because of it!"
"Hermione, you know that wasn't your cooking's fault. Please, just say you won't bake the pie."
"Harry, I have to."
Harry then walked out, marking the situation as hopeless. As the door shut, Hermione thought she heard him mutter "Women", under his breath. Hermione knew she had to at least try.
So what did she do? She went to the library. She came back with armfuls of books, only half of them about cooking. She dumped the dusty volumes on the kitchen table and began scouring them for recipes for apple pie. The first thing she learned is that no one makes pie with maple syrup. Then she entered the patented Hermione Meltdown stage. She fretted that even if she did miraculously make an apple pie, that didn't poison him, that Ron wouldn't like it, or that he would still reject her. Then she slapped herself and realized that this was something that just had to get done. So she selected a recipe and started cooking. She kneaded, she stirred, and she preheated until both the kitchen and her apron were covered in flour. There was even flour in her bushy mane. She then sat and stared at the kitchen timer as it counted down the seconds until her pie was done. Somehow, the timer had mesmerized her until she drifted off to sleep. She dozed until she was rudely awakened by the fire alarm. She had let Ron's precious pie burn!
Of course that was the minute Ron walked into her house. Hermione was sitting on the kitchen floor sobbing as the sprinklers went on, soaking the borrowed books, smoke wafting through the moist air. And obviously Ron, as insensitive as he is, chose that moment to laugh. "What were you doing, Hermione?" He shouted over the din of the alarm. He sat down beside her and she looked up at him, her brown eyes filled with despair.
"I was trying to make you love me."
"Of course I love you. But, if I may ask, how is setting the fire alarm off and crying supposed to make me love you?"
"Your mom said that the only way to earn a man's love is—"
"Through his stomach," he finished. "You believed that?" Hermione looked ashamed. "Hermione, I love you, and your cooking ability, or lack there of, could never change that. I love you for the incredible person you are. I love you for your passion, your kind heart, your courage, and so much more. A cookie could never change that."
"It was actually an apple pie."
"Well, that makes all the difference then. I'm just kidding!" he shouted out as she punched him playfully. "My love for you is different from an apple pie. It won't ever burn out."