Two Aurors and a Baby

Author: LVB

Disclaimer: Nothing in the world of Harry Potter belongs to me, end of story.

Summary: When trainee aurors Ron and Harry are on Christmas break, a dangerous task indeed befalls upon them: babysitting. What's an auror to do?

A/N: So I've been absent from fanfiction for a while, so I may be a little rusty. I had a billion other angsty/dramatic plot bunnies to pursue but here's my attempt of humour...

I'm planning to have this go for about three or four chapters.

Chapter One: What Are Friends For?

Ron sat on his battered, yet comfortable couch and stretched his very long legs. Both he, and the infamous Harry Potter, were officially on holidays. It was one week away from Christmas and while all the other wizarding folk were slaving away during the silly season, the aurors were lying back drinking butterbeer in Ron and Hermione's shared apartment.

Harry came out of the kitchen and threw another butterbeer at Ron, who caught it with ease. "Wicked," Ron replied lazily as Harry rolled his eyes and sat on the opposite couch.

"Next time you're getting up you lazy git," Harry remarked.

"Sod off, Potter," Ron snapped, just as the Floo began to shoot green sparks. "Oh, whoever it is, bugger off!" George's head appeared in the fire.

"And a very Merry Christmas to you, you grumpy bastard!"

Harry chuckled as Ron sat up, glaring at his brother through the flames. "Bloody hell, George, I just got home! Can't a bloke have some peace?" he whined.

George shook his head in reply. "Ickle Ronnie, when will you ever learn? You may be on holidays from that sausage-fest you call Auror training but lucky for you, your shop is in dire need of your assistance. I suggest you and Potter get your arses down here."

"I suggest you piss off George. Harry and I just got home, so unless Merlin is outside the store, jiggling around in his underwear singing "A cauldron of hot, strong love" then I reckon you've got no chance!"

George smirked. "Are you sure, Ronnie? I mean absolutely, downright, sure as you're shagging Granger sure?"

Ron's ears began to turn red. "SOD OFF, GEORGE!" he bellowed as Harry tried to stifle his laughter.

George sighed dramatically. "Some business partner you are, brother. Disappointing, indeed. Well, enjoy your afternoon doing whatever it is you and Potter do alone on romantic, snowy evenings. Don't say I didn't try and help!" With a final smirk, George cut the connection.

"Prick," Ron muttered under his breath.

"'Don't say I didn't try and help'," Harry repeated, puzzled. "What is that supposed to mean?" Ron shrugged in response.

"Who cares?"

Harry shook his head took another drink of his butterbeer. "Oi, have you got any Firewhiskey?"

Ron nodded. "I'll get it. It's in the top cupboard, where those who are vertically challenged aren't able to reach it."

Harry rolled his eyes and turned on the wireless, tuning it to the Quidditch. "Better hurry up mate, Puddlemere's about to come out."

Just as Ron came out of the kitchen, Firewhiskey and glasses in hand, the floo began to spark again.

"GEORGE! I TOLD YOU WE'RE NOT..."

Instead of George's smirking face, out stepped Arthur and Molly, clutching a screaming and red-faced Victoire. Molly handed Victoire to Arthur and picked up the small bag that had tumbled to the fireplace floor on the journey.

"Ron, thank goodness you're home!"

"Err, thanks Mum," Ron said, staring at his crying niece. "Nice to see you too. Why do you have Vic? Where's Bill?"

As Arthur bounced Victoire, Harry stared at her wide-eyed. He shifted his glasses nervously. "Is she alright?" he asked, pointing to Victoire.

"Hmm? Oh yes, quite alright, Harry. Molly had to wake her from her nap for the trip, you see. Much like Bill, she doesn't like being woken up with err, such loud noises," Arthur replied sheepishly.

"Bill," Molly started, glaring at Arthur, "and Fleur are in France for a wedding and they didn't want to take Victoire. Your father and I have her for the weekend. Well, supposed to anyway. There's been an emergency..."

Molly handed the bag to Ron, who was not expecting the deceivingly small carry case to be so heavy. He lurched and dropped the bag onto his foot. "Blood...err, blimey, Mum, what's in there? What emergency? Are they alright?"

"Nothing to worry about dear, Charlie's just got himself into a bit of an accident, is all. Burnt both his hands and broke a leg while he was training the new dragon at Gringott's. St. Mungo's just owled us asking us to go in." Molly took Victoire from Arthur and held her out towards Ron who simply stared.

"We're his emergency contacts, obviously," Arthur added, stooping down to coo at his granddaughter.

"And we can't very well take a baby there, it could be hours! You'll look after her, won't you? The both of you?"

Ron and Harry looked at one another. Killing a horcrux, no problem but a crying, red-faced, 18 month old Veela baby?

"Mum," Ron whispered as Molly unceremoniously shoved Victoire into his arms, "me and Harry have never babysat before! What about Percy? George? Andromeda? HAGRID?" he asked desperately.

"You'll be fine and everything you need is in the bag. Her next feeding is in two hours and then try and put her down for a nap. If she cries too much, find her favourite rattle and charm it to dance."

Molly gave Victoire a kiss on the forehead and followed suit with Ron and Harry. "Have fun, Victoire!" Molly cooed as she stepped into the fireplace.

"Good luck boys!" Arthur enthusiastically added before zooming away with his wife amongst a sea of green sparks.

Harry quickly downed a shot of Firewhiskey, straight from the bottle.

"What do you think you're doing mate?" Ron screeched, clumsily bouncing Victoire on his knee.

Harry shot him a look in response. "Well, I think I might head back to the flat..."

"No! Bloody hell Harry, you wouldn't abandon me in a time like this!" Ron pleaded. "I've never babysat alone before. Please, Harry, just until Hermione gets home."

Harry eyed Victoire who had surprisingly stopped crying and was looking straight at him. "Ry!" Victoire squealed.

"Bloody typical, she's a Weasley but the first word out of her mouth here is "Harry"!"

"Err, um, hello Victoire!" Harry replied awkwardly, wiggling his fingers in front of her face.

"Ry! Ry! Ronnnnnn. Ronnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn," Victoire squealed in delight.

"You can't leave her now, Harry. Look at her, she loves her Uncle Harry, don't you Vic?"

Victoire drooled in response.

"You owe me, Weasley," Harry muttered as Ron's eyes lit up. Harry picked up the bag Molly had left and opened it up on the dining table. "Blimey, how much stuff do babies need?" Peering into the bag, he delicately began pulling out items. Out came various toys, the nappy bag, the bottle and, much to Harry's surprise, a changing table and a feeding station. "It's like bloody Mary Poppins in here!"

"Merry who?"

"Mary Poppins, she's a Muggle...you know what, not important," Harry replied, trying to figure out how to set up the feeding chair. Suddenly, the chair began to unfold, which sent Harry flying into the fireplace.

Disturbed at the loud noise, Victoire began to cry.

It was going to be a long afternoon.