Should I say it? I'm afraid to jinx myself...oh, all right...

Seven reviews for the last chapter! I was so happy, I couldn't believe it. I was a little afraid to post that here, however, because whenever that happens, I only get two or three for the next chapter. Do you think we could buck the trend?

Thanks to those seven reviewers-Louey06, dancergirl7, Jezabel Raewin, prizbokc, mandya1313, Blonde Pickle Mule and Bri P. All of your suggestions for future characters were absolutely incredible! I wrote two new chapters, completely from scratch, after reading these (and started two more, taking my in-progress count up to 6)! See, I told you reviews and suggestions are like catnip for my brain!

Well, Lily luna may have won more votes than this young man, but I think he and his hapless, loveable dad will win your hearts. After the bittersweetness of Lily and Harry, a little bit of hilarity should be just the thing we need. Enjoy!

Oh, one more thing-there may be a mistake in here. I don't know if they have Vicks Vapo-Rub in the U.K. It's been in use here in the States since at least when my grandparents were kids, maybe longer...but I don't know if it's sold overseas. This may sound random, but once you read the chapter you'll understand why I used it; usually I just cut out details that may not work.

Caregivers Can't Afford Mistakes

It was all Hermione's fault.

She had gone out to "run some errands," insisting to her nervous husband that she'd be back before he knew it.

That was three hours ago.

"Dad?" came a pitiful, wavering voice from somewhere upstairs. "Dad!"

Ron sighed and directed his steps towards his son's bedroom. Little Hugo was sitting up in bed, or at least attempting to. Wadded-up tissues littered the floor where they had fallen out of the overflowing garbage pail, and Hugo's bedside table was barely visible under a glass of diluted apple juice, two boxes of tissues (one empty, one full) and a full array of medicines.

Hugo blinked, his eyes adjusting to the lamplight, and looked balefully at Ron. His hair was messy, standing out at odd angles. His nose was all red, his complexion pasty beneath the freckles. He looked utterly miserable.

"Dad?" Hugo repeated. He was so congested that it came out sounding more like 'Dab'.

"What's up, little man?"

"I cat breed troo by dose."

Ron frowned slightly. Languages had always been more Hermione's forte, but he resigned himself to piece out this foreign-sounding sentence, finally realizing that Hugo was telling him that he couldn't breathe.

"Oh! All right, son, let's see what we can do about it…have you tried blowing your nose yet?"

Hugo raised his eyebrows at his father in a way that reminded him slightly of Hermione and pointed wordlessly to the veritable mountain of used and crumpled tissues beside him.

Ron kicked himself mentally. Think, Ron, think…this can't be too hard, Hermione does it all the time…what does she do when the kids are ill?

"Hold on, Hugo, I'll be right back."

Ron rummaged through the medicine cabinet over the sink, pulling out potions and bottles of medicine, then promptly stashing them inside the sink basin when they weren't what he needed. When the only items left in the cabinet were his razor and a package of Muggle adhesive bandages featuring some ridiculous cartoon sponge, he admitted to himself that he must have missed what he was looking for and called down the hall to his son.

"Hugo…what does Mum do when you or Rosie fall ill?"

"Mum bixes up a botion do bake us veel bedder."

She 'bakes veal better'? Who cares if she can cook? Oh…'mixes a potion'…

Ron frowned slightly again. Potion-mixing was never one of his gifts. Hermione still teased him about that time in their fourth year when he was supposed to be creating an antidote to a poison he'd be given at random. As Ron had spent the entire period trying to find out who Hermione's date to the Yule Ball was, rather than focusing on his work, he had somehow managed to increase the lethal capacity of the poison he'd been working with by 132%.

Even if I try making him a Pepper-Up Potion, he'd probably mutate, or explode or something, Ron reasoned. He fully accepted that he was no Half-Blood Prince; potion-brewing was out of the question.

Ron looked hopelessly around the tiny bathroom, trying to think of an alternative. His eyes fell on the garish cartoon sponge bandages. He wondered to himself why they even purchased the foul Muggle things…what's cool about a talking sponge, anyway? I personally find it pretty creepy…Hermione does want them exposed to Muggle stuff, but there's no need to go overboard…

Ron snapped out of his reverie. This was it. Muggle stuff. He could use some of the Muggle medicine Hermione kept in the house to treat Hugo.

Hugo turned a page in his picture book, waiting with growing impatience for his father to come in with one of those potions that Mum usually made, which fixed him up so well. Being ill was no fun. Rosie got to run around outside, jump in the piles of fallen leaves that were scattered around the garden and accompany their mum on her various errands, perhaps earning herself a treat in the process. He, Hugo, got to languish in bed, feeling truly awful.

A noise in the vicinity of his door made Hugo look up.

Ron was standing in the doorway, wearing a truly bizarre assortment of garments. He had on a kitchen apron and a pair of thick gloves that Hugo usually saw his parents use while gardening. Into the pockets of the apron, he had stuffed a veritable assortment of strange Muggle items from around the house: a turkey baster, a corkscrew, a ballpoint pen, three matchbooks and a bendy straw. On his head was a flowered shower cap, and he had procured what appeared to be a surgical mask from some unknown location. He looked utterly mad.

"Dad?" asked Hugo uncertainly.

"We're gonna play a game," explained Ron. His voice was muffled behind his mask. "A new game. I'm gonna be one of those Muggle Healers…what are they called again?"

"Doctors?"

"Yeah, that's right…and you'll be my patient. Sound like fun?"

Hugo nodded uncertainly. Of their parents, Ron was, as he and Rose covertly acknowledged, 'the fun one', so whatever Ron had up his sleeves couldn't be too bad.

"Okay," said Ron, edging into the room. "Let's see." He peered deeply into Hugo's glassy eyes, laid a gloved hand across the boy's forehead and asked him to open his mouth and stick out his tongue. Hugo did so, coughing violently. Ron turned his attention to the Muggle medicines on the bedside table.

He carefully read each box, bottle and jar, looking for something that would alleviate coughing. "Aha!" he cried out in triumph, holding a tiny jar in his hand. "Vicks Vapo-Rub!"

Opening the jar of Vapo-Rub, Ron sniffed it gingerly. "Phew! This stuff smells awful!" He looked at Hugo, who shrugged. "Better you than me, son," he conceded. Spooning out some Vapo-Rub, Ron said, "Open up!"

"No, Dad," protested Hugo, putting his hands up to prevent Ron from spoon-feeding it to him. "You don't eat it; Mum rubs it onto your chest."

"Ohh…" Ron unbuttoned his son's pajama top and deposited a great glob of the Vicks Vapo-Rub onto Hugo's chest. He then proceeded to spread it out, thoroughly coating both Hugo and his own dragon-hide gloves in the process. Finished, he sat back to admire his handiwork. Hugo's torso was now buried underneath a fairly thick layer of glutinous jelly.

"Hold on," said Ron, as he was struck by sudden inspiration, "we don't want to stain your sheets with that stuff…"

Hugo listened as his father's footsteps disappeared into what sounded like the kitchen. Ron reentered the bedroom a minute later, carrying a roll of Muggle cling wrap of the sort that Hugo's Muggle grandparents wrapped leftovers in. Hugo barely had time to wonder why his parents kept all this Muggle stuff in the house before Ron set to work.

Ron ripped off a section of cling wrap about two meters long, then instructed his son to sit up. Hugo did so, bemusedly. Is this really what Muggle doctors do with their patients?, he thought, as Ron wrapped the cling wrap around his son's middle, again and again until there was none left. Crunching slightly, Hugo laid back down in bed. Ron turned his attention to the array of Muggle medicines.

"Now, let's see…this one's for fever…this one for that stuffy feeling..." Holding the bottles in his hands, Ron debated which symptom took precedence. Deciding on the spot to treat all of Hugo's symptoms at once, Ron pulled a glass he'd brought from the kitchen out of the pocket of his apron. He poured a generous helping from each of the medicine bottles into the glass, then swilled the mixture around with a swizzle stick he'd found in a cupboard over the sink. Hugo raised an eyebrow as his father stirred seven times clockwise, then added one counterclockwise stir.

"What's dat for, Dab?"

"Well, your Uncle Harry once told me in Potions class…"

"Dis isn'd Botions glass, Dab…"

"Oh, yeah…well, bottom's up, son…"

And Ron handed his son the bizarre concoction, which had turned a sickening brown color.

Hugo held the glass at eye level, steeling himself to take a sip. He gulped, raised the glass to his lips, and…

"Hugo! What on earth are you drinking?"

Hermione Weasley stood in the doorway, laden with shopping, a small girl bobbing around behind her, trying to see in. Hugo lowered the glass as his mother dropped her bags, swept in and whisked it out of his hand. Her eyes then fell on Ron, who was still standing at his son's bedside looking inexplicably strange.

"Ron, what are you wearing?"

"I'm a Muggle Healer! I thought, if I made it fun for him, Hugo wouldn't mind taking—"

"What were you feeding him?"

"Muggle medicines."

"You don't mix them all together, Ron!" She sighed, pulled the shower cap and surgical mask from her husband's face, and said, "Ron, honey, go in the bag downstairs from the Apothecary and get out the bottle of Pepper-Up. Pour out a child-sized glass for him…like a juice glass, Ron." She leaned in and rested a cool hand on her son's fevered brow.

Ron nodded and headed downstairs. As he searched the kitchen cupboards for a juice glass, he heard Hermione's voice issue from their son's room.

"Ron! Why is Hugo marinated in Vicks Vapo-Rub and wrapped in an entire roll of cling wrap?"

Well, readers, what are your thoughts? I'd really love to know how you felt about Ron's attempts at Muggle healing. He really does try hard.

And so, before my final reminder to review, I offer you another choice. For the next chapter: Ginny Weasley or Andromeda Black? Cast your vote in your...

REVIEW! It's good for everyone involved: the reader (you) speaks their mind, the author (me) gets some feedback, the characters (see ch. 1-25) get to see their names in print...again...

Anyway, don't perpetuate the chapter-following-a-chapter-that-got-a-lot-of-reviews jinx!

On va se 'oir, cheres,

Delilah