"I really just cannot believe that this is my life. In all seriousness, this sucks." Ron was laying face-down on the carpet in his room at the Burrow. He was in full self pitying mode now, nothing could stop him.

"Ron, you're being ridiculous. Your life does not suck and it's time you just went downstairs and apologized to your mother." Hermione always loved to be the voice of reason. The obnoxious voice of reason.

"Just leave Hermione, you're not helping," Ron moaned into the threadbare carpet.

"Hmph! I've never met a boy as rude and callous as you Ronald Weasley! You're poor mother is probably down there right now in her kitchen bawling her eyes out. And you! You're in here moping like a fool! You're despicable! I can't believe you would treat your mother like this. I don't even know-" Hermione was still ranting as she slammed his door shut and was stomping down the stairs.

Harry, who had been sitting on Ron's comforter, looked around uneasily. What to do if Ron asked for his opinion? He wasn't even there during the argument that happened between Ron and his mother. He had been out denoming the yard again with Fred and George. They had all actully been out denoming the yard when Mrs. Weasley had, quite unexpectedly called Ron inside the house. The other boys had shrugged it off and continued their work until they heard the yelling.

"Fine! And I hope you enjoy the fact that you just alienated your youngest son! See if there is ever another heart to heart between us you hag!"

"Don't you dare talk to me like that young man! And where are you going? You come right down those stairs and back into this kitchen we're not done here yet!"

"Really? Because I rather think that we are."

And with that Ron stomped up the stairs, making sure that every step reverberated through the entire house and then locked himself into his room.

"Harry? You still there?" came a bedraggled voice from the other side of the room.

"Yeah, I'm still here Ron."

"Good."

"…"

"…"

"Hey Ron…"

"Yeah Harry?"

"What were you and your mother fighting about anyways?" Harry thought he knew; it was probably the fact that Ron was never home anymore. Molly was constantly questioning him and Hermione to see if they knew of Ron's whereabouts and trying to stage conversations when Ron was around to trap him into taking Harry and Hermione with him. It was getting pretty strained in the Burrow, to say the least.

A long silence followed and Harry wasn't sure if Ron had decided to ignore the question, or perhaps had just fallen asleep.

Contrary to both of his assumptions Ron was just thinking about what indeed he and his mother had been fighting about. It wasn't such a big deal, but Molly Weasley was infamous for having to know absolutely everything that went on in her children's lives. They might not always know she knows, but she did. Mother's intuition, if you will.

The thing that was coming between mother and son, and that was so royally pissing her off, was the fact that she did not know what he was up to. She had no idea what Ron was doing with his days. There was two more weeks left of summer break, before Ron left for his 6th year at Hogwarts, and she had been pondering over this mystery the entire break. She knew that he walked down to that muggle village that they lived by, but not of what he was doing there. The first time, he had just been bored and had finally thought of something to do. He came home with a bruise on his forehead to which he replied the he 'fell down.' After that it became once or twice a week, "I'm going for a bit of a walk, Mum, see ya in a bit," or a, "Dad's been down lately, Mum, I think it's all that overtime he's putting in for the Ministry. I'm gong to go down to St. Catchpoles and see if I can get him some plugs, or one of those 'remote' things. I think it'd really cheer him up."

Like a fool, she hadn't caught on until she realized suddenly that Ron was leaving every morning to go down to that damned town and wasn't getting home until dinner. And soon he was even missing dinner; he would just laugh it off and warm up some leftovers. And Ron might have thought himself as sly, but Molly knew that he would sneak out sometimes. After lying in bed awhile, pretending to be asleep, he would tiptoe down the stairs, out the door, and down to bloody St. Catchpole. It was maddening. It had been a month and Molly had hoped that he would stop as soon as his friends came over. No such luck. Sure, he had stayed home on Harry and Hermione's arrival date. Even deigning to stay for two days after that, but during breakfast of the fourth day Ron casually said, "I have some …er things to do in St. Catchpoles, I'll be home later."

Later? Later?! Molly wanted exact times, down to the second, and she wanted a strict itinerary of everything he was going to be doing down there.

Instead she said, "Why don't you take Harry and Hermione, they've never been to the village, I think that they would have a nice time." Ha! Let's see you weasel out of that one!

He had replied with an immediate, "I don't think so, I really need to hurry, but that's a great idea Mum. Guys, let's go to town sometime, they have a great ice cream parlor, actually, they only have the one, but it'll be loads of fun. Anyways, I'll see you guys later." And with those parting words he was out the door faster then Molly could come up with a rebuttal.

And this continued. For two more weeks before Molly finally decided that it was time that her and her youngest boy to have a little chat. It started out perfectly friendly. Of course, it soon turned into a shouting match of, "You have no right to pry into my life like this!" and, "I'm your mother! Everything you do is my business! And that includes breathing, blinking, and going into town everyday!"

The thing was, Ron reflected as he lay facedown, he couldn't tell his mother where he'd been. And he sure as hell couldn't tell Harry why he and his Mum had been fighting because he couldn't tell Harry where he'd been either. When this had first started over a month ago it had seemed so easy. Come down to town every once in awhile, hang out, make a quick buck. He had no idea things would get so messy in such a short time.