I own nothing. All credit goes to J.K. Rowling.
"She got you good, mate," Ron murmured, waving his wand furiously over the bruise on his son's head. "I suppose I never told you not to hit girls, did I?"
The argument had been over whose turn it was to ride the family broom and Hugo, even though he had flown this morning, insisted that it was his turn. Rose ignored him and climbed onto the broom, only to be thrown off by her brother. In turn, she punched him so hard that Hugo fell flat on his behind.
Hugo shook his head and gave his father an annoyed glare, still holding his forehead painfully. "Fine time to tell me, Dad," The ten year old replied sourly. "But it wasn't even my fault! It was my turn to ride the bloody broom—"
"Hugo Wendell Weasley," Ron chided, looking over his shoulder anxiously. "If your mum hears you, you're as good as dead. And in Rosie's defence, I saw you fly out of the yard this morning. It was her turn."
"But that gave her no right to hit—"
Ron rose an eyebrow. "You hit her first."
"Two wrongs don't make a right, Dad," Hugo said slyly.
The father of two shook his head. "You deserved that right hook and you bloody well know it. You tackled her off the damn thing!"
Just then, Ron felt a hard slap land on the back of his head. He turned around, rubbed his head and winced when he saw Hermione standing behind him, looking at him, slightly affronted. "If I've told you once, I've told you a billion times…do not swear in front of our children Ron!"
After she left, Ron turned back to Hugo and shrugged. "And that's why you don't hit girls, Hugo. They always hit back harder."
I do not believe in hitting, no matter what gender. I just pictured something like this in my head and laughed out loud at it.