Something somewhat original! Yeay! So, the other day I was watching "Seven Brides for Seven Brothers" and the Pontipees reminded me of the Weasleys; they all have red hair and there are seven of them! So I started thinking of a fanfic I could write about the Weasleys as the Pontipees and BAM! Instant classic haha. Obviously, I have to tweak the stories of both so they'll complement each other, but I'll do my best! For example, Ron is obviously not the oldest, and he's not looking for a wife (that's so endearingly old-fashioned). But I tried to mesh Adam's character and Ron's together, Milly with Hermione, and so on. Hope I do the thing justice!

Hermione began her day as usual. She woke up, dressed, washed her face, made an attempt at taming her hair, and giving up, went downstairs where she donned an apron and lit a fire beneath the cauldron in the hearth. Tom poked his head into the kitchen when she had started the day's stew, drawn by the aroma of potatoes and beef and gravy. He sniffed heavily.

"Smellin' good already, 'Mione," he said, smiling toothily at her. He shuffled away, leaving her to slave away above the smoking cauldron.

A few hours later, at eleven on the dot, as every day, Hermione heaved the hot stew out into the main lounge area and onto one of the old wooden tables.

"Soup's up!" she announced to the people – mostly men – waiting there. Most were regulars, but there were a few she didn't recognize. One in particular caught Hermione's eye; a redhead slumped at the bar. He had twisted around on his stool to watch the proceedings.

The men around her were already scrambling for bowls and seats. Hermione used a hover charm to tip stew into each of their waiting bowls, their faces anxious and hungry.

"'Mione, did I tell you your stew is the most delicious thing I've ever eaten?"

"Only every day, Harry."

When Hermione moved around the table to get to the others, she was distracted by the addition to the party. The man from the bar had wandered over and taken a seat. He was staring at her. Trying not to notice too much, she directed the cauldron over to him, pouring steaming stew into his bowl, watching it hit the bottom wetly.

The cauldron floated from him, but he was still staring at her. She turned away and as she did so, she unmistakably heard him say, "Did you make this?"

Turning back, Hermione replied, "Yes."

He held her gaze for a few seconds before shoveling some into his mouth.

"Wow, this is brilliant. Bloody good."

"Thank you."

He continued eating and Hermione served the rest of the men. The clinking and clanking of dishes and the hum of conversation followed her back to the kitchen. After she had wiped the dirty cauldron with a cleaning charm, she returned to the main dining area to clear away the dishes. A few of the men were still working on their helpings. The redhead had returned to the bar.

One of the regulars, Harry Potter, handed his empty bowl to her.

"That was excellent, 'Mione."

"You've said as much," said Hermione, taking his bowl and smiling gently. She wanted to get away before he started hitting on her again.

She managed to evade his hand as he grabbed for her waist and went into the kitchen to dispose of the dishes. She picked up the book she had discarded the day before and peered out, gauging Harry's position in the room. She stealthily, but still naturally, headed for the other side of the room near the bar and perched herself on a stool, opening her book and quickly losing herself it its pages.

She lost track of time while reading, so the next time she glanced up, the ginger who had come to taste her stew had moved to sit one stool away from her. He was hunched over, staring at the mug in his hands, but saw her head come up out of the corner of his eye and looked around.

"'Lo," he said.

"Hello."

He took a sip of his firewhiskey.

"You're a dab hand at cooking," he said, staring at her intently. Maybe it was the whiskey, but his eyes were bright blue.

"Thanks very much," said Hermione, unable to keep eye contact.

In her peripheral, she saw him take another draught of the drink.

"I'm Ron Weasley, by the way," he said, holding out his hand.

She took it. "Hermione Granger." He smelled of grass and alcohol.

"Nice to meet you," said the redhead.

"What's your story then, Ron?"

"Oh, you know," said Ron, stretching exaggeratedly. "Been left my parent's farm, so my siblings and me have had to work at it for some time to keep it in top form."

"Is that so?" He was a farmer then. "What are you doing here in town?"

"Lookin' for help. There's so much to do outside that none of us can get to the inside of the house. We need an amah of sorts."

"I see," said Hermione.

"Someone to cook and clean for us. We'd pay 'em, of course."

"Of course."

He stopped to take another drink.

"But I got distracted and had to sit a drink on my through to Diagon Alley, and here I am," said Ron Weasley, concluding his short story.

Silence fell between them. The ginger gulped down the rest of his drink and stood.

"It was nice to chat with you, but I should go find my help."

He waved and stepped out of the back door of the pub. Hermione stared silently after him for a few seconds before going back to her book.

As the afternoon wore on, she found herself glancing up every time someone walked into the pub from the door to the Alley. After this happened for the eighth time, she mentally shook herself, reprimanding herself for her schoolgirl behavior.

The next time it happened it was him, and she stared unashamedly as he crossed the room and, without looking over at her, pulled open the front door and slipped out. Before the door swung shut, she saw him turn on the spot and apparate away.

Slightly annoyed, she went back to her book.

Thanks for reading! Please review ^_^