Fatherly Knowledge

Author's Note: Originally published on September 10, 2015

The muffled, sob-strangled cries permeated the quiet sanctity of the bathroom as he finished brushing his teeth. Quickly washing up after an exhausting day at the shop, the last thing Ron wanted was to deal with an upset two-year-old.

He exited their ensuite washroom to find Hermione attempting to nurse Hugo, while trying to soothe an angry Rose.

"Mummy, want play!" She kept tugging at Hermione's leg, her cries getting louder with each second. "Play, no Ugo!"

Hermione looked up at Ron, her eyes half-closed with exhaustion. "Can you please do something?"

A thought occurred to him then; a faded picture from his earliest memories.

"C'mon Rosie, let's go to your room. I have something to show you."

Her cries subsided for the moment, as she stared at him skeptically.

Ron started walking to the bedroom door and gestured for his daughter to follow. "It'll be fun!"

"Fun?" She rubbed away the angry tears with the backs of her hands, before taking off in a full sprint towards the hallway. "Bye mummy!"

Ron grinned and winked at Hermione before gently closing the door. He knew how he would deal with this.

Arthur Weasley tiptoed up the stairs of the Burrow, knowing that his children were asleep at this late hour. He'd taken a few minutes to unwind from another hectic day of restoring order to the Wizarding world, after the fall of Voldemort just six weeks ago.

The house was silent; a rarity. He knew it was due to a combination of slumbering children and sound-blocking charms. That was Molly's idea, since she didn't want Ginny's cries to wake up the boys.

It struck Arthur that this would be the last winter his whole family would be under the same roof—for the next seventeen years or so. Bill would be entering Hogwarts the following September, and there would be a flood of Weasley children following until Ginny completed her seventh year.

It seemed like a lifetime away, and after everything they'd been through this past decade, he was hoping it would be uneventful. He hoped his children would never have to experience the pain and fear that had marked their lives during Voldemort's rise and fall.

As he entered the room, he was surprised to find Ron at the foot of their bed, his small fist desperately clutching the hem of Molly's nightdress, who had baby Ginny at her breast.

"Mummy, bed." He pointed frantically upwards. "Beeeeeed."

"Ron, I can't tuck you in right now."

Arthur approached his pouting son and lifted him high in the air. Ron seemed taller than his brothers had at the same age.

"How about I show you something special upstairs, and then tuck you in?"

"Bed?" Ron asked quizzically.

Arthur laughed. "Yes, bed."

Arthur quietly closed the door and trudged up the stairs with Ron in tow. After Ginny had been born a few months ago, Ron was forced to vacate his place in his parents' room, and hadn't been very happy since. Arthur had created a cozy spot for him, right at the top of the house.

Reaching the room, he put Ron down. His youngest son bolted for the bed and jumped in, pulling the covers over his form. He still had the pout on his face.

Arthur sat down on the bed. "What's wrong, Ron?"

"Ginny."

"Oh, I see. With a new baby, Mummy is very busy. The same thing happened to Bill when Charlie was born, and to Charlie when Percy was born, and down the line."

Arthur wasn't sure if Ron understood him, but at least the expression on his son's face had changed to one of passivity.

He spied a few of Charlie's old Quidditch figurines on Ron's side table. With a quick flick of the wrist, he had them zooming about the small room, much to Ron's delight.

"As a big brother, you get to teach Ginny about all sorts of things, like Quidditch, or the story of Harry Potter."

Ron nodded his head solemnly, before yawning, his eyelids heavy. "Kee-ditch?"

Arthur couldn't help but smile. "Exactly."

Ron settled in and stared up, hypnotized by the airborne toys. Arthur observed as Ron's blue eyes slowly closed, and the up and down of his chest fell into a steady rhythm. He sometimes felt like Ron was overlooked, due to everything else going on in their world. He vowed to spend more time with his son.

"Good night." He whispered into the dark as he left his youngest boy in peace.

Ron couldn't remember much about the earliest time in his life, but he did remember how magical it was to see those figures flying around his head.

Rose was staring at him expectantly, her haphazard red curls falling about her face.

"Now, sweetheart, Mummy is going to be busy with Hugo, so she's not going to be able to play all the time."

He sat down next to her on the side of the small bed. "You might have to settle for Daddy."

That did little to change her mood, so he pulled out the same trick he vaguely remembered. With the wave of his wand, the small figures lining Rose's desk came to life, whizzing around in an impromptu game of Quidditch.

Rose clapped her hands in delight, a smile blossoming across her face.

"See, once you're older, you can teach Hugo about things you love, like books and Quidditch."

"Book?" She pointed at her growing library. Her interest in the Quidditch players suddenly fell away.

Ron shrugged, knowing there was one thing she loved more than his favourite sport. She was, after all, Hermione's daughter as well as his.

He selected a book and sat in the bed as she cuddled up to him, her head drooping against his shoulder. The toys had been but a distraction; the most important thing he could give her was love and attention.

He'd learned that from his own father.