A.N. Sorry things are going slowly! Preparing for the holidays, and taking care of my dad after he broke his back are cutting into my writing/posting. Progress is being made, though!

Prompt: Young Rose catches Ron and Hermione in the act, and asks George what they're doing.

The daughter of Ron and Hermione, one Rose Weasley, was unsurprisingly precocious. Ron knew it the moment that he found her cuddling a story book rather than her teddy bear; it both delighted and frightened him. Delighted, because it was something she shared with Hermione, and he knew it would help her later in life. Frightened, because he knew that Weasleys who thought too much could get into the worst possible scrapes. When people thought of thinkers, they thought of people like Percy. And while that was mostly true, It had to be pointed out that Fred and George were also thinkers. For a man who had blithely assumed he had put his years of distrustfully tasting his food for gags that might turn him furred or feathered, the prospect was rather daunting.

But so far, at the age of five, Rose seemed to share her mother's penchant for good behavior, which was excellent since three year old Hugo appeared to have other ideas. Having two children with such contrasting personalities could sometimes wear you out, and made moments to find together more difficult than had it only been the two of them. And while they tried to be careful, they would sometimes get too caught up in each other (and, less romantically, hurrying so the children wouldn't be unsupervised for long), and when that happened, doors were not always shut and Warded properly...

Which was how, one fine summer morning at a family get-together at the Burrow, Rose came to be standing outside of her dad's old room, peering in through the crack. She couldn't see Mummy very well; just one of her legs. Daddy was leaning over her, and they were making odd sounds, almost like the two dogs from down the street would whenever they got into a small fight. They didn't look like they were wearing clothes, and Rose was worried. Mummy didn't like getting her clothes mussed while they were out. She had come upstairs to ask if she could have some of the biscuits that Grammy had offered her, but she thought now that she had better wait. Quietly, she went down one flight of stairs, waiting patiently on the top step.

George, who had been looking for Ron to even out the Quidditch teams, found her there only five minutes later. He came to a halt, surprised. All of the kids usually stuck together when they were all at the Burrow, and when Rose wasn't with them, she had a book. Now here she sat, her knobby little knees poking out from the flowered sundress she was wearing, with a look of solemn contemplation on her face.

"Hey there, Rosie. Seen your dad around? And why aren't you off with the others?"

"Yes, he's upstairs with Mommy. Uncle George? Why do grownups like to play naked?"

For one of what was only a handful of times in his life, George was shocked into speechlessness. He wanted to backtrack his way downstairs, and pretend that his five year old niece had not just asked him to explain why his randy wanker of a brother and his wife were boinking like Pygmy Puffs in the springtime. What did you say in this situation? 'Congratulations, you've been scarred like the rest of us?' That joke would work in ten years time, but even he wasn't crass enough to say that to a child small enough that he still gave piggybacks to!

...On the other hand, he thought with a smirk, it shouldn't be too hard to tell her something completely innocent, but would come across as full of innuendos when heard by adults. His mind working at lightning speeds to concoct a story, he stared down at her, smiled, and...couldn't do it.

She was looking up at him with wide, innocent brown eyes full of trust. Every second he looked at her, they seemed to grow a bit larger. Hell, they practically took up her whole face! Besides, Angelina would have his bits for earrings if she found out what he did, which would put more than a damper on the plans he had for later tonight. Rose was still staring at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. He began to sweat. He had to tell her something! But he had thought that the painfully awkward sex talk was years down the line, and not with someone else's kid.

Someone else's kid.

That was true, wasn't it? How could he rob dear, dear Ronniekins of this special moment with his daughter? He couldn't do that; then he would never get to enjoy the show of watching him prepare for it, the same way he had right before he proposed to Hermione.

"Do you think you could forget that question if you had a biscuit?"

Rose tilted her head, her red curls bouncing around her shoulders as she pondered his question.

"Two biscuits? Because I just thought of another question."

"Three biscuits."

Rose nodded happily, and George sighed, taking her hand to lead her back downstairs. He shot a small glare at the ceiling, deciding that Ron was going to have to pay somehow for putting him in this situation.

He never noticed the slight smile on Rose's face, or the giggle that she muffled behind her other hand. Silly Uncle George. She was a big girl; did he really think she didn't know about that? She had been scared the first time she saw it, but then her parents had explained that mummies and daddies had to do a special spell sometimes where no one else was allowed. Mummy told her she didn't have to worry about it until she came of age, but Daddy had yelled funny and said she didn't need to worry about it ever. So she was still a little confused, but that was okay. Because James had been trying to tell her that no one could trick Uncle George. But she had just done that, and was getting three biscuits out of it, so what did James know?

George parked her at the kitchen table, summoning a plate to put her biscuits on. She was munching happily away on her second when her parents came in, Hermione smoothing out her hair (like that was going to happen) and Ron trying to discretely tuck in the back of his shirt.

"Rose, you know you're supposed to ask first before you have a snack," Hermione admonished.

George inserted himself into the conversation, stepping over and pulling them across the room from the child. "She did, but you were a bit preoccupied. Merlin, you two, can't you keep it in? You act like it's your first summer together, and you've very nearly scarred your daughter for life! At a family gathering!"

Both of them stared at him in shock, and he groaned, rubbing his face with one hand. "Great. Me as the voice of reason. If you need me, I'll be looking up the other signs of the end of the world while you try to find something safe to tell her."

Hermione traded a look with Ron, but kept her voice low. Everyone was supposed to be outside, but you never could tell, around here. "George, what are you talking about? I hate to say it, but this isn't the first time it's happened. We've already talked to her about it, and will explain more once she's an appropriate age for details."

George made a face. "Please, I don't think I'm an appropriate age for details, at least not any concerning the two of you. It was bad enough always tripping over you in the supply room of the shop. And the broom shed. And the orchard. Actually, we could just make a BINGO card of places you're likely to be caught, and offer a prize to the family member that finishes first. And I don't think you were clear enough, because she was asking me to explain it to her!"

"Rose, did you ask Uncle George a question you already knew the answer to?" Ron asked her seriously, suddenly suspicious of the angelic look she was wearing.

She licked the crumbs from her mouth nervously, realizing she had been caught. "Yeeeeeeees."

"And why did you do that?"

"James told me that he couldn't get Uncle George to fall for a prank, and he said I couldn't do it, either!" Rose burst out, her eyes flashing with indignation. "But James is stupid, because it wasn't even hard!"

"Rose, go back outside and play with your cousins. And we don't call people stupid, remember?" Hermione ordered, knowing that they would have to have a talk tonight about the difference between a joke and an outright lie.

Rose slid out of the chair and left by the kitchen door, leaving George staring after her in disbelief, while Ron choked on badly suppressed laughter. George gave himself a brisk shake, ignoring Ron as he began to laugh harder.

"I've just been taken in by a five year old. Alright. I can take that. Obviously it's time to pack it in and retire, before I lose it completely. If you'll excuse me, I'll be outside under the big oak tree having a midlife crisis," George mumbled to himself, wandering outside as well.

Hermione glared at Ron, "I don't know why you're laughing; it's really not that funny."

Ron tried to stand upright, but leaned back onto the counter, wheezing. "Not funny? Not funny? Did you see the look on his face?"

"Yes, Ron. I saw the look on his face when our five year old tricked a thirty-three year old prank master."

The implications of what this could mean hit Ron with full force. If she was that smooth at five, what could she get up to in a few years' time? How long would he be able to keep up? Would he have to have Crookshanks start testing his food for any fun little surprises? They wouldn't get a break until...

"How many years until Hogwarts?" he asked his wife in a weak voice.

"Six. Six years. What do you propose we do about this? She's a good girl, really, but we're going to have to keep more of an eye on her."

Yes, they would. And Ron knew exactly what he needed to do.

First thing tomorrow, he was going to Hogwarts to discuss the benefits of an early admissions program.