QLFC submission

Season 6: Caerphilly Catapults

Round 12, Chaser 2: Rons relationship with one of his children.

Prompts: (word) ferocious, (dialogue) "It's time to export that damn toy, I think.", (song) Pure Imagination - Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

Word Count: 1,334

HW~HW~HW~HW~HW

"Rose! It's your brothers turn to pick the movie, let him choose!" I call out from the kitchen.

"I don't want to watch Willy Wonka again!" she calls back. I make a face. I didn't want to watch it, either. But it was Hugo's favorite movie, and Hermione had made sure to buy a VHS version of it as soon as she had figured out how to get a TV to work in a magical house. When he was younger it was also the only book he would let us read to him when it was his turn to pick the bedtime story.

"You can always go read, you don't have to watch the movie. Your mother is in the library, I think," I tell her as I come into the family room carrying a bowl of popcorn while floating a tray with soup and drinks behind me.

"Alright, I'll go see if she's gotten any new books since the last time I was in there," She agrees eagerly. I knew that that was probably all she wanted anyway. She was ferocious in her need to devour every book that came into our house, just like her mother had been at her age. I honestly almost afraid to send her to school next month, she would probably never turn her homework in on time because she was too distracted by a story she had found. She'd been that way in primary school, and at Hogwarts Hermione and I wouldn't be there to regulate how much she could read when she still had homework to do.

"Daaaad, start the movie!" Hugo's voice came from a pile of blankets on the loveseat. If I squinted, I could see a shock of red hair poking out of one end.

"I'll start it, but it doesn't look like you can see it." I tease as I pick up the remote. I settle on the other end of the loveseat and he squirms around until his head is in my lap. I press a palm to his forehead immediately. He was still running a fever, even with a fever reducer in him. Hence the blankets, trying to make him 'sweat it out' as Hermione said.

"Ready!" he calls a little weakly. He had some kind of muggle flu, and the wizarding doctors couldn't do much for it. Hermione was trying to find out if giving him muggle medicine with wizarding potions in his system was safe or not, and I was just trying to get him as comfortable as possible while he was sweating like crazy and coughing and hacking every five minutes.

"Your soup is on the tray, would you like some?" I ask as I hit play. He makes a disagreeing noise and I shrug, settling down to watch the movie with him. He'd been fascinated by Willy Wonka for a long time, and it was his go-to movie when he had a choice, or when he wasn't feeling well.

We sit in silence for a while, watching the children get their chocolate bars and being introduced to the man I'm pretty sure was actually a wizard. It was like a mass production of Honeydukes products. Hermione had laughed so hard she had to run for the bathroom when I had told her that.

"Dad?"

"Yeah? You feeling okay?" I ask immediately as he wiggles to look up at me.

"My Wonka Doll's in my room. Can you go get it?" he asks softly.

Sometimes I think he does this on purpose. Hermione had found a perfect replica of what Willy Wonka would have looked like from the book description for him when he was four. He usually only had it out now if he was sick or watching this movie.

But the thing was terrifying.

It had glass eyes that followed you around, it was the size of a toddler, it's hair looks real, it's suit is removable so you can wash it which is even worse. It's like a sack of flour when it doesn't have its clothes on because whoever made it didn't go into that much detail. It was just all around a terrifying doll and I swear he knew I didn't like it and took enjoyment out of me interacting with it.

"You sit up and start eating your soup, and I'll go get it. Deal?"

"Yeah. Do you have water, too?" he asks, sitting up and moving the mound of blankets to take the tray. I set his glass of water next to the soup and stand up.

"I'll be right back," I tell him while ruffling his hair before I leave. I go up the stairs, towards his room, and open the door. I tucked him in nearly every night but it still took a second to find the doll, perched on a shelf where Hugo could reach it near his closet.

"I think it's time to Export this damn toy. Luna's kids would love it," I mutter to myself, straightening the bow on the things neck.

"Hugo would hate you."

"Hermione!" I screech as I whirl around. I recognized the voice immediately, but the fact she had snuck up on me still made me jump. She just grins, completely aware of what she'd done.

"I'm just saying, getting rid of it would make him upset."

"It's creepy! Why would he want to keep it?" I grumble, moving to the doorway where she was standing. I think we had this conversation every time I remembered the doll still existed in my house, and she found it hilarious.

"Because he likes it. Because it was a gift. Because you raised your children to be kind and appreciate the things they have." she says lightly. It was the same argument she always made, and it always deflated my eagerness to get rid of the doll.

"Right."

"Go back downstairs to Hugo. How's his fever?" she asks as she moves out of the way.

"Still there, not as bad as before. He should be eating his soup."

"Good. Rose and I are going to the pharmacy for some medicine. We'll be back soon."

With a wave, she's gone down the hall towards Rose's room. I head back downstairs, doll in hand, and pause at the door of the family room. Hugo was riveted to the screen, bowl forgotten.

"If you want to view paradise, Simply look around and view it…"

Hugo's favorite part was on, and he was singing along to Pure Imagination. It was cute, watching him sing like this, with his nose all stuffed up and a little glassy-eyed because of the fever.

"Anything you want to, do it. Wanna change the world? There's nothing to it… There is no life I know to compare with pure imagination. Living there, you'll be free if you truly wish to be…"

"If you want to view Paradise," I cut in, making him jump slightly before grinning. The screen keeps on singing, but he's focused on me and the doll I have in my hands now.

"Thank you!" He says immediately, making me grin. Some days, like today, when he's sick and feverish, I feel like I'm not doing my job right. I feel like I'm not doing enough as a dad to raise him right and protect him. But when something like that happens, I feel like I'm not doing such a bad job. When one of my kids is polite without even having to think about it, says please and thank you, or 'yes ma'am, no ma'am' to their teacher, it makes me proud. Compared to some of the hooligans they go to school with, they're turning out alright.

"I'll rewind it and we can sing it together, yeah?" I suggest when he turns to the tv again and pouts that the song is over.

"Oh! Please?" he asks immediately.

I may not like the song or be very good at singing, but if it made my son happy, I'd do it.