Author's Note: I wrote this little one-shot because I was just in the mood. It was inspired by the current book that I'm reading, called The Nanny Diaries. If you get a chance, it's well worth the read. By the way, I've ignored science in this story; time changes no longer exist.
Summary: Hermione goes away for the week with her sisters-in-law, leaving Ron as Mr. Mom, alone with a four-year-old Landon and a one-year-old Emily. Trouble, disaster, humour, sweet father/son/daughter moments, and playful phone conversations ensue. Yes, Ron's learned how to use electronics…sort of. How will Ron survive a week without his wife's help with the kids?
Oh Man, Oh Man. She's Reallyreally Gone. Oh Man, Oh Man.Ron Weasley adjusted his situation in bed. His arm was anaesthetized due to its' location under his wife's head. They constantly ended up in peculiar nocturnal arrangements, even if they went to bed wholly normally. He kissed her temple, and she sighed contentedly, rolling over and emancipating his arm. He massaged his it, disregarding the pins and needles, trying to get the blood flowing back into his dead limb while glancing at the clock. He had to be at work in an hour, but didn't want to get out of bed. Next to him, Hermione yawned as her eyes flickered opened. No sooner had she turned to look at Ron but she winced at the light pouring through the sheer curtains.
"Good morning," she said through a yawn and wincing.
He chuckled at her. She was always a catastrophe in the morning. "Good morning to you, too."
She opened one of her eyes a fracture to look at the clock. "You're going to be late for work," she garbled, resting her head back down on her overly fluffed pillow.
"It's all right," he told her. "A little lateness never hurt anybody. Except Romeo and Juliet," he added, lest she start the familiar tirade that she usually did when he offered her the trite remark.
"Well, get up, then," she told him, "or you might come home and find me dead."
"Don't joke like that," he told her, snuggling up close. "It's not funny." He reviled her teasing about death. After they had been influential in the defeat of the Dark Lord, he had a diminutive apprehension about leaving his wife and children alone when Death Eaters were still at large.
"You're lucky," he mumbled into her hair. "You get to sleep in."
"I doubt it," she said, the sound mainly absorbed by the pillow. "Emily will start crying about fifteen minutes after you leave, just like she does every morning, without fail. And besides, it isn't like I'm not working."
This was true. Hermione had been working domestically for the Magical Attack and Defence Department since Emily, their one-year-old daughter, had been born. She was eager to go back to instructing Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts next year.
"You're right," he said. Hermione's job had constantly been a delicate issue.
"Mmm… I love it when you say that," she whispered, more to her pillow than Ron.
"Don't get too used to it," he said, kissing her cheek, and pulling back the covers, making her shudder with the bite of bitter air. He tucked the blankets close around her, kissing her cheek once more, before making a beeline to the shower.
*
Hermione attempted to balance a whiny Emily on one hip while dictating to her bewitched quill, evaluating the Daily Prophet's article by one Rita Skeeter, stirring chicken noodle soup for the three of them (as well as to nurse her impending cold), and responding to Landon's bombardment of questions.
"Mummy, why is the sky blue?" he asked her, as Emily whimpered in her ear. The toddler hadn't had her nap yet, and was certainly ready for one.
"Because it reflects from the ocean," Hermione told her son as she took the saucepan off of the stove and poured the therapeutic liquid into three bowls.
"Why is the ocean blue?"
"Because it reflects from the sky," she told him, not wanting to have to give a complex scientific lesson in Cliff's Notes form suitable for a four-year-old. She brought the three bowls of soup to the kitchen table, and put a cooling spell on the children's.
"Mummy, where's Daddy?" asked the rambunctious redhead as his soup came precariously close to spilling over the rim of the bowl.
"He's at work, sweetheart," she told him, while trying to get her stubborn daughter to eat, trying everything from the airplane (or broomstick, to wizarding families) approach to bribery, to taking the food away altogether, which would only make her whine that she was hungry, and Hermione would bring it back. Thus began the vicious cycle.
"Hello?" came a voice booming from the hallway.
"In the kitchen," Hermione called back, still trying to coax Emily into eating.
A familiar face showed itself in the kitchen, making Landon jump down from his booster seat and run to greet the familiar man.
"Uncle Sirius!" he squealed, flinging himself on his uncle, who willingly lifted him high into the air and over his head.
"Hello, Landon!" Sirius said, delightedly. He loved children, and Ron and Hermione's were no exception. "Quick, what's seven eight?"
"Fifty-six!" Landon recited dutifully.
"Wonderful! Hermione, I have never seen a four-year-old that knows his times table; he is most definitely your son," he told a weary Hermione who smiled proudly.
Sirius helped himself to some of the soup that remained on the stove and joined one of his favourite families at the table. "I've been meaning to talk to you," he said to Hermione, "about your holiday." Sirius was Head of the MADD, and Hermione was second only to him.
"What about it?" she said, delighted that Emily had finally consented to open her mouth.
"You haven't put in for any. Holiday plans are due tomorrow, and I figured that you'd want to take some time off. You have two weeks owed to you, you know," he told her, blowing on the soup.
"Yes, I know. I haven't had a chance to think about it, really. Ron and I had talked about going to Majorca, or something, but we hadn't actually decided," she told him, continuing to spoon soup into the stubborn and sleep redhead's mouth before she fell asleep at the table.
"Uncle Sirius! Uncle Sirius! Look at what I can do!" Landon exclaimed, before jolting into a powerful rendition of All You Need is Love by the Beatles, complete with jazz hands and a rousing "Ahh…" after the final strains of his screamingly off-key finale.
After clapping, Sirius looked to Hermione for an explanation.
"Ron was having fun with some of my CDs last night. His favourite is the Beatles Anthology album, because, for some reason, he says that the lyrics…erm, what did he say? Ah yes, the lyrics 'speak to him'. Of course, he decided to torture me by teaching our son a song with more…stimulating lyrics. After all, 'there's nothing you can sing that can't be sung', according to John, Paul, George, Ringo and Ron," she said, shaking her head, although her smile gave away her amusement.
"Could be worse," Sirius said. "It could've been Yellow Submarine."
Hermione laughed, as Emily's head drooped into the soup bowl in front of her. This caused her to giggle harder as she lifted her sleeping daughter from the high chair and cleaned off her face ("Oh man, oh man, oh man… Emily went swimming in her lunch! Oh man, oh man, oh man. This is reallyreally bad, Mummy; this is reallyreally bad. Oh man, oh man, oh man.").
"I'm going to put her to bed," Hermione told her long-time friend, "I think she's long overdue for a nap."
"I'll take her," Sirius said, taking the sleeping little girl from Hermione's arms.
"Thanks," said the mother, as she cleaned up the mess from Emily's nosedive. Landon was jumping around Sirius' feet, all the way up the stairs and into Emily's room. Hermione could hear Sirius shushing Landon, and saying "Be as quiet as a mouse!" This, in turn, spurred on a spurt of squeaking and tiptoeing around from the little boy.
Hermione was just cleaning up in the kitchen and eating her own lunch, wincing as the hot liquid came in contact with her sore throat, when Landon and Sirius re-entered the kitchen.
"Well," Sirius said, "I was just coming to see what you were doing for holiday. And to get some lunch." He smirked at her knowing grin.
"All right," she said. "I've been working on the new Auror résumés. There's a stack on my desk that's already done. I still have the other half to go."
"Right, I'll stop in there on my way out. See you tomorrow," he said, heading in the direction of her office. "High-five, man," he said to Landon, who jumped up to smack his hand before he departed.
Hermione completed her meal as Landon coloured peacefully in the living room. As she was magically cleaning the dishes and depositing them back on their respective shelves, she took notice of additional voices from the living room. Ginny was there with her two out of three children, James and Rachel. Her oldest daughter, Evie, was in kindergarten. As well as the Potters, Angelina Weasley was present with her youngest set of twins, Timothy and Eleanor, who were a year older than Landon and James. Play dates, surprisingly, were Hermione's favourite part of the day. She loved spending time with her sisters-in-law, and the children played well together, making them virtually unnecessary to care for during those three or four hours that they were together.
The three women sat on the sofa, Rachel, who was Emily's age, asleep in her mother's arms. Angelina just came to sit back down after splitting up a rather nasty fight between her two youngest children, and plopped down on the couch.
"I need a holiday," she said to her friends.
"Me too," said Hermione.
"Me three," said Ginny.
"To somewhere sunny."
"To somewhere warm."
"To somewhere far away from children."
"And Weasley men."
"Potter men, too."
"To somewhere with a beach."
"And margaritas and daiquiris with those cute little umbrellas."
They each sat entertaining their own private fantasies of white sand, Blue Ocean, piña coladas and utter relaxation for a moment, before Hermione spoke.
"You know, that doesn't sound at all like a bad idea," she said, her mind reeling. "Sirius was over here not too long ago; I have two weeks of holiday time that I can use. I'm sure that Harry, Fred and Ron wouldn't mind watching the kids for a few days. And, at that, why don't we invite Vicky and Sarah as well!"
"It could be like…mums' time off!" Ginny exclaimed, but not too loudly, lest she wake her daughter. "I'm sure that Harry wouldn't mind, and even if he did, he could hang out with Ron the whole week."
"And Fred and George can tag team," Angelina added. George was still a bachelor, although adored his twin brother's children as if they were his own.
"It would be wonderful! Our own little island-getaway," said Hermione, her mind still swimming as she calculated the niceties. In order to utterly abandon the norm, it would be in their advantage to stay at a Muggle hotel. In reality, Muggles did have a sagacity of luxury above and beyond that of wizards. She would ring a Muggle travel agent and reserve suites at a five-star Muggle hotel on Maui, where she and Ron had spent their honeymoon. Even as she reflected on the delightful archipelago, she smiled at the wave of nostalgically wonderful reminiscences that came over her.
Angelina stood up from where she was seated to locate her handbag, containing a flawlessly structured date book, from whence she devised three weeks that would be practical. Ginny struggled to get up to find the same while weighted down by a dead weight of a one-year-old. Hermione helped her, and took Rachel upstairs to Emily's room, placing the sleeping girl in the crib with her cousin.
*
"Emergency numbers. Where are they?" Hermione grilled Ron.
"They're on the fridge, even though I've got them memorized considering that it's mostly family, and we ring them on a regular basis," he said. "And, I probably won't use the phone unless I absolutely have to."
"Right." She paced back and forth, running through her mental checklist for the umpteenth time. "Right," she repeated.
Ron stood up from the kitchen table, and linked his arms around her waist. "Baby, relax," he said to her. "I've got everything under control. I promise you that I will not let Landon burn down the house. And Harry's going to be here with his kids most of the time. It's no big deal, Sweetheart. Relax." He kissed her neck, and then her lips. "Relax," he repeated. "Now, you go and have a good time. You deserve a break. And besides, we still have our holiday next week," he added, laced with a promiscuous waggle of his eyebrows, causing Hermione to laugh before he kissed her again and their son came running into the room, being chased by his cousin, announcing the arrival of Harry and Ginny.
The duo sauntered into the living room to welcome their friends. Both of them laughed as they saw their lively redheaded sister decked out from head-to-toe in Hawaiian gear. A straw panama was covering her red hair, just as lively as her personality, followed closely by very stylish, albeit expensive, sunglasses, a tank top that depicted a pastel sunset with silhouettes of palm trees, a shell necklace, a wrap-around sarong, and cork sandals proved that she was ready for the islands.
"Let's get this party started!" she exclaimed, stating everything that her outfit did.
"Gin…erm…look, are you trying to look like a tourist?" Hermione said, putting it as delicately as she could.
"Thank you!" said Harry. "I'm not the only one who holds to the opinion, Gin, that you look positively ridiculous," he teased his wife.
"Hey, hey, hey! You just wish that you could look this good! Don't worry," she said, "I'm going to change. I just decided to…get in the spirit of the islands."
"More like get in the spirit of St. Mungo's Insanity Ward," muttered her older brother. She proceeded to slug him on her way into the bathroom to change. Ron ogled the quantity of luggage that had just been doubled that was by the fire from whence the Potters had emerged just seconds previously. Hermione was taking three, as was Ginny. He marvelled at the obsessively compulsive packing order to which women adhered.
Ginny re-entered the room and kissed her husband goodbye as Hermione and Ron mirrored their affectionate act. Ginny and Hermione both stooped down to embrace their children, before Ron stole 'another one for the road' from Hermione, and the two women apparated to the ladies' powder room of the Hyatt Regency Maui, baggage and all.
Ron and Harry were left standing in the living room by themselves, five children, and the sickening feeling in their stomachs that could only be attributed to dread and wondering how they were going to survive a whole week without their wives.
The boys were still scurrying around the room, taking turns, each becoming the predator and the prey. Upon realizing that his mother was no longer there, Landon stopped abruptly.
"Daddy," he asked, cocking his head, and his inquisitive blue eyes staring at his father's, "Where's Mummy?"
"She's in Hawaii," Ron said to his son.
"When will she be back?" Landon asked, bottom lip quivering.
Oh, no… "Soon. She'll be back soon," Ron told him, stooping down to his son's eye level.
Landon's lip quivered further, before he started completely wailing. "I WANT MY MUMMY NOOOOOOW!!!" He screamed louder than Ron had thought possible for someone with such a small body. Apparently, he had inherited the lung capacity that made Ron and Hermione's screaming matches famous at Hogwarts. Ron lifted his son up, and rocked him back and forth, whispering soothing words in his son's ear. This outburst alerted James to the disappearance of his mother as well.
"I WANT MY MUMMY TOOOOOO!!!" He screamed all this on a much less significant degree, but it was as bloodcurdling as a Banshee's shrieks. Harry picked up his son up in the same manner as Ron, but soon, the younger girls began howling for no reason other than their brothers were in tears. The men lifted up their daughters as well, rocking them both back and forth, trying to stop this before it the neighbours called the police, reporting child abuse.
Evie, the eldest Potter child, positioned herself up on the settee, gazing at her father.
"Daddy? What if Mummy gets eaten by sharks?" she asked him, her emerald green eyes staring at him incredulously.
"She won't get-"
"What if she gets stranded on an uncharted island and has to eat Aunt Mione to survive?"
"DON'T EAT MY MUMMY!!!!" Landon shouted, nearly deafening his father.
"She won't get-"
"And what if a volcano explodes on the island?"
"A volcano won't-"
"Daddy, what if Mummy dies?"
"I DON'T WANT MUMMY TO DIE!!!" wailed James in Harry's ear.
"All right, listen!" Harry yelled, causing all the children and Ron to look at him in mild surprise. "No one is going to die, get eaten by sharks, become shipwrecked or be forced into cannibalism! They're just going on a holiday! Nothing is going to happen, and everything is going to be fine, understand? Now stop crying, and let's go get you kids some dinner!" Everyone was shocked into silence.
Landon sniffed, and wiped his tears, before saying, "Can we eat at a rest-runt?"
"Yes!"
"Oh, please, Daddy?"
"Come on, Daddy, please?"
"Please, Uncle Ron?"
"Yes!"
Harry and Ron swapped a fleeting look, and Ron said, "Let's go get their coats."
*
Hermione, Ginny, Angelina and Victoria (Bill's wife) had donned their bathing suits, sunglasses and sunhats and went to lie out in the Hawaiian sun, sipping their piña coladas with the cute little umbrellas as Caribbean-style music wafted through the pool area.
"This is the life," said Victoria, her long legs being bronzed by the island sun.
"You said it, sister…" said Ginny, lazily smoothing liberal amounts of sunscreen on her naturally pale legs.
"I wonder how Ron's handling the kids?" Hermione wondered coherently.
"No, no, no!" said Angelina, putting her strawberry daiquiri down on the terra cotta concrete tile that their chaise lounge chairs were resting on beside the pool waterfall. "No husbands, no children. Just us."
"Just us," Hermione repeated, softly, taking a sip of her own piña colada (typically, she'd be drinking it virgin, but she decided that she deserved a little rum in her life). Her reflections were still with Ron and their children, however. She speculated how they were fairing on the other side of the word.
*
"Daddy? Where do chicken come from?" Landon posed as the brood sat with Harry and Ron in a booth in a neighbourhood 'rest-runt'. He was looking at his chicken strips with wonderment as he pondered.
"Eggs," Ron replied through a mouthful of vanilla frappe.
"Oh….Daddy?"
"Yes, Landon?"
"Where do eggs come from?"
"Chickens."
"Oh…Daddy? Which came first? The chicken or the egg?"
Ron and Harry exchanged a wide-eyed glance that plainly stated this is going to be a long night. They stopped the waitress that was passing, and said in unison, "Could we get two beers, please?"
"But Daddy!" protested Evie. "Which did come first? The chicken or the egg?"
"The chicken," said Harry, even as Ron said, "The egg."
The children measured their fathers, before they stared back down at their tableware. Emily and Rachel were sitting happily in high chairs, fairly oblivious to the lot that was occurring around them.
"Well? Which is it?" James asked them.
Ron and Harry looked at each other.
"The cow," they said at one fell swoop.
"The cow?"
"Yes," Harry explicated. "You see, the chicken came from the cow, and the egg came from the chicken. That's just the way it is."
"Oh," said James, and Evie, nodding their heads comprehensively, apparently accustomed to their father's 'abstract reasoning'.
"But…but…" said Landon, lip quivering, "where did the cow come from, Daaady?"
Ron could see his big blue eyes welling up with tears, so he quickly improvised. "Hogwarts! The cow came from Hogwarts!"
"Silly Daddy!" Landon exclaimed. "Everybody knows that cows can't go to Hogwarts!"
Ron and Harry both had an image of an eleven-year-old Hermione declaring the same thing, shaking a finger at them, and brandishing a voluminous copy of Hogwarts: A History. The Hermione in their mind told them that cows also can't apparate on Hogwarts grounds, either. They quickly shook the image from their heads, only for it to be replaced by one of Landon as the male version of Hermione during his Hogwarts years.
"Well, a long time ago, cows were allowed to get to Hogwarts," Ron improvised.
"Oh," said all three children who had the brain capacity to understand, nodding with wide eyes.
They sat in silence, munching on crisps.
"But, Daddy?" Evie queried, "How did Hogwarts get there?"
"Ask your Aunt Hermione," Harry retorted. This was not the most intelligent action on Harry's part, for it only reminded Landon that his mother was on the other side of the world.
"I WANT MY MUUUUMMYYYY!!! I WANT MY MUMMY NOW!!!" he wailed, alerting the entire facility to his presence. Landon's lamentations spurred the rest of the children's howling as well, and soon, the resonance of five screaming children filled the restaurant, the sound of harsh dissonance reverberating off of the rafters.
Harry and Ron were relieved when their beers arrived.
*
Hermione felt lonely in her bed. She missed Ron and the children. She wondered what time it was back home, but didn't care as she reached into her purse and removed her cellular phone. She dialled their home phone number and walked onto the balcony, so as not to disturb Ginny, who was sleeping in the bed next to hers.
"He-hello?" asked a groggy voice.
She smiled. "Hello," she said in a sultry voice, "You've been enrolled in the obscene call of the month."
Ron laughed on the other end of the line. "Hey, Baby."
"Hi."
Pause.
"It's so good to hear your voice," Ron said to her.
"Mmm…you too. Rough night?"
"The worst. First the kids wailed for hours, and then Evie talked about every possible disastrous scenario, which just got Landon and James crying even harder. Next time you go away, take me with you."
She laughed. "I am, silly, remember?"
"Oh yeah," he said through a yawn. "This week is going dreadfully slow. I hope that you're having fun, because I'm not."
She laughed at him again. "Actually, I am having fun. I miss you, though."
"I miss you, too."
"I have to say, I feel the effects of a hangover creeping up on me. Too many drinks," she said, on the edge of her seat (figuratively) to hear his reaction. He knew how little she drank, if she ever had alcohol at all to begin with.
"You? Drunk?" she could hear his rich laughter on the other end. "The only time that I've ever seen you even remotely drunk was that time with Ginny and Harry in Majorca when we went to the Spanish bar."
She laughed in return at the memory.
Pause. She knew what Ron was thinking about.
"Remember what we did after we got back from that bar?" he said, huskily.
"And nine months later…"
"The screaming-redheaded-hurricane that is our son."
She laughed. "Certainly he's not being that bad."
He scoffed incredulously on the other end. "Mione, you should hear him. He's Landon put that down now! What are you doing?"
Hermione could hear the small voice of her son as if through a tunnel on the other end. "I'm getting a midnight shmuck!"
"A WHAT?" Hermione yelled into the receiver. "Ron! Where'd he pick that up?"
"I don't know, Mione," said Ron to the phone.
"MUMMY!!" she could hear through the phone. "I WANNA TALK TO MUUUMMY NOOOOW!!" The sounds of a crying baby who had just been awoken from sleep echoed through the kitchen, and Hermione was able to catch strains of it.
"Let me talk to Landon, Ron, and you go calm Emily down," she told her husband. The phone was relayed to their son.
"MUMMY!" he screamed into it. Hermione held the cell away from her ear, and yet was still able to here everything that her son enunciated clearly. "MUMMY, LISTEN TO WHAT UNCLE HARRY TAUGHT ME!!" A loud, resounding belch came through the receiver. Had her son been present to see his mother's face when he burped in her ear, he would have run for his life.
"Time for bed, Landon!" came Ron's voice.
"But I wanna talk to Mummy!" Landon whined.
"Too bad, buddy. To bed!"
Ron picked up the phone, and begged Hermione for her patience as he tucked the squirming boy into bed. Hermione waited patiently as Ron performed his fatherly duties, smiling at the recollection of the look that overcame his features when close to his children. It was an expression of complete and utter love, but a different kind of love than that of the way he looked at his wife. He was proud of his children when he gazed at them, as well as feeling fortunate ever to be blessed with such beautiful children. His features took on a look of utter amazement that he had created such perfect little beings, and for that, he loved them more than anything, even life itself.
"See?" came Ron's voice as he picked up the phone again. "Like I said, he's being a complete nightmare today." Although he loved them unconditionally, he was not above complaining about their behaviour.
"Welcome to my world," she alleged, with a modest grin that he could not see. If he had spotted it, he would have been able to tell that she was amused, not exasperated. Although she wasn't the emblematic housewife, and abhorred that idiom, it was, in quintessence, what she did.
"Look, Mione, let's not start this again. I know that you don't like it, but we can't let the children be raised by a nanny during the most influential years of their lives! I thought we'd agreed on this!"
"We have, Ron," Hermione said, pacifistically. "I completely agree with you, although it's so hard for me to stay home everyday. I can't wait to go back to work, but I'm not ready to leave Landon and Emily yet. But anyway, that wasn't even what I was talking about. I was just commenting that you've crossed over to the world of mum, that's all. It was meant to be a harmless comment; I didn't want to start something."
"I guess I overreacted?"
"Yes."
"Sorry."
"Me too."
Pause.
"So what are you wearing?" Ron asked her. When she laughed, he said, "No, really! Come on, Mione; play along. I'm taking you up on that obscene phone call of the month deal!"
"Sorry, Ron, but we're not paying long distance charges to have phone sex."
"Why not?"
"I love you, sweetheart. Good night."
"Good night," he said dejectedly. "And I love you, too."
*
Ron looked at the clock. He had taken off work for the week, as did Harry, Fred and Bill, and their wives had already been gone for four days; they would be returning in two. Although their king-size bed was rather lonely and uninviting when Hermione was not in it, he pulled the blankets tighter around him and attempted to go back to sleep. He slipped off into the world of dreams in no time:
Hermione walked along the beach, with the sun setting beautifully behind her. Her two-piece bathing suit showed off her curvy figure; her slender legs were visible through her sheer sarong. Her thick, curly hair was blowing in the wind. He walked up to her, and she linked her arms around his neck, winding her fingers into his hair.
"Hermione," he whispered her name, before kissing her passionately.
She pulled back, and…licked his ear…
His eyes shot open, and he looked up, to see the newly acquired puppy, Beatrice, leaning her golden head dangerously close to his as she madly licked his ear.
"Beatrice, geroff," he said to the retriever, pushing her away. She wasn't even supposed to be in their room. As the canine hopped off the bed, Ron caught sight of a red head and blue eyes peeking up from the side of the bed. He feigned blindness, and pretended to go back to sleep, as the little boy struggled to climb onto their tall bed. He 'yawned' and rolled over and he could feel the undersized repercussions of the small boy that crawled across the bed.
He could feel his son's face hovering close to his, and Ron shot up, shouting, "Boo!" Landon jumped about three kilometres in the air, squealing madly, as Ron grabbed him and tickled him mercilessly.
Amid Landon's loud squeals and giggles, the loud gale of wind, thunder and lightning could be heard from outside. With a viciously loud thunderclap, Landon's eyes became wide and terrified, his lip quivered, and he jumped into his father's arms. Ron held him close, as the boy trembled with fright.
"Make it stop, Daddy, make it stop," his son beseeched, his voice laced with frightened tears.
Ron kissed the top of his son's head. "Sorry, buddy. I wish I could, but I can't."
"Yes you can, Daddy," came Landon's voice from where his head was buried in Ron's chest. "Daddy, you can do anything."
"Sorry, man," he said, rubbing Landon's small back, and holding him tighter. "But I can't stop the thunder. I wish I could, but I can't."
"I'm scared, Daddy," Landon whimpered.
"I know, little man, I know," he whispered. He pulled the covers back, and tried to stand up. Landon had a death grip around his neck, and he wouldn't let his son go when he was this scared. Ron walked to his closet, and pulled out his grey sweatshirt with CANNONS printer in blue lettering across the front. "Landon," he said to his son, rubbing his back, "Can I put you down for a second? Just a second?" Landon shook his head 'no'. "Don't worry, I'll be right here. Come on, man, just a second." Reluctantly, Landon released his grip as Ron set him on the bed. He pulled the sweatshirt on over his t-shirt and boxers, before lifting his son into his arms again and walking into the hallway. They lived in a Muggle townhouse, equipped with electric lights. He flicked them on as he walked through the hallway.
Perhaps he had no just reason to worry, but Emily had slept through the entire debacle, and that alone made him anxious. He slipped into the nursery. Clouds were bewitched to be constantly swirling gently across the baby blue ceiling. The cow jumping over the moon was depicted on one wall, along with the fork running away with the spoon. Another wall depicted Mother Goose, Mother Hubbard and her dog, and the little old woman who lived in a shoe. On another wall was a large daisy with Thumbellina sitting on it, with faeries and fireflies around her. The final wall held a picture of Little Red Riding Hood, and Goldilocks. Ginny, the artist of the Weasley family, had painted the murals on the wall, and they matched those that bedecked the walls of the nursery in the Potter home. With another loud thunderclap, Landon whimpered and tightened his grip around his father's neck.
"Shhh…" Ron whispered, stroking his son's unruly red hair.
He stepped closer to the crib that was carved into the shape of a flower and painted the colours of a daisy to look at his daughter. She was sound asleep, cuddled up close with her orange Chudley Cannons blanket that Hermione despised, but Emily was so attached to. He stroked his daughter's plump cheek. She was so peaceful when she slept, and the only movement was her chest rising and falling as she inhaled and exhaled. Everything was peaceful in this nursery. Except for her hair. Her hair was the same Weasley red, but her insane curls went everywhere, and in every single direction, impossible to be tamed, much like Hermione's hair. He smiled at his daughter, as another thunderclap sounded and Landon began sobbing quietly. He walked out of Emily's room so Landon wouldn't wake her.
The two men of the house walked downstairs. Ron lit the fire with his wand, and picked up Landon's favourite storybook from the floor to ceiling bookshelves that occupied one of the walls of the living room. He poured himself some coffee, black, before sitting down on the couch with son, book, and drink. He sat with his feet propped up on the couch, back resting against the arm. The thunder had momentarily stopped, and Landon disentangled himself, looking around cautiously, and rubbing his blue eyes with his podgy little hands.
"Is it done?" he whispered.
"I don't know," Ron whispered back. "How about we read a story?"
Landon nodded. "Yes, please, Daddy," he said. He snuggled up on his father's lap, leaning against his chest so he, too, could see the colourful pictures in his favourite storybook.
Ron read the book, stopping every now and then for Landon to fill in a small word that he would be able to read with little problem, or recite from memorization. It was amazing how much his son was like his wife. Perhaps it was one of the reasons why he loved him so much, but then, he thought that he would love this boy no matter what he was like.
The storm lasted the entire day, and the thunder didn't end. Ron had a hard time detaching his son from his neck when he dropped him off at pre-kindergarten that afternoon, where he went with James on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The teacher, one Parvati Patil, took good care of him as he screamed because of the thunder, and Ron apologized profusely. Parvati, who'd always had a bit of a soft spot for Ron, dismissed his apologies as she helped get Landon into his raincoat despite his protests that he didn't want to go out in the rain, he didn't want to go out in the rain.
Ron and Harry had planned to grab a bit to eat afterwards with Fred and Bill as an early dinner. They held their son's hands (with the exception of James's delight and aggressive puddle splashing, and Landon's trepidation and constant whimpers when he would stop and grab Ron's leg convulsively at a thunderclap), and pushed waterproof prams in front of them, each containing a frightened one-year-old.
When Landon saw the forked lightning, he abandoned everything and screamed the most terrified scream that Ron had ever heard, much like his when around spiders. He picked up his son, who assumed the death-grip-neck-choking position. They finally arrived at The Leaky Cauldron, where they had agreed to meet, to find Fred already there with his two sets of twins. The oldest two, John and Chris, were Evie's age. She immediately left her father's side to go sit with them. James was attempting to run to meet Timothy and Eleanor, while Harry was trying to get him out of his raincoat and Hat. Landon, on the other hand, refused to let go of his father's neck. Fred stood up and removed Landon's small raincoat and hat for Ron, and then held Landon close to Ron could remove his impermeable cloak. As soon as it was off and hanging on a peg next to the smaller coats, Landon was back in his arms, whimpering into his neck. Harry was getting Emily and Rachel out of their prams and into highchairs; he magically shrunk the baby carriages and set them on the table. Ron sat down, still rubbing Landon's back soothingly as Bill and his youngest son, David who was a year younger than Evie, came in. His oldest son, Daniel, was in his first year at Hogwarts. They had all ordered, and Landon had fallen asleep in Ron's arms before the food came.
"You know," Bill said, taking a swig of his butterbeer, "This really is not fair at all. They're in sunny Hawaii while we're stuck here in 'jolly' old England. It's raining, and they're probably lying out on the beach right now."
*
The Weasley (and Potter) women sat in the glass-enclosed restaurant/bar at the hotel, gazing out as the torrential island rain poured down. They hadn't been outside all day, due to the downpour. They had fancied going shopping at the Harbour, but they were incapable to get a taxicab. They had sauntered around the boutiques inside the hotel itself, and were able to buy some rather pricey, however exquisite, things.
Hermione swallowed her drink and heaved a sigh.
"Stop moping, Hermione," said Vicky.
"I'm not moping," Hermione replied.
The other three women exchanged glances. "If you're so worried," Angelina countered, "just call them."
Hermione sighed. "I'm not worried…Ron can handle it; I trust him. I'm just…"
"Worried?" Ginny finished.
"Yes."
"It's all right," Vicky said, "The guys are all out together tonight, aren't they? They'll be fine, Mione."
"I know, I…I know."
*
"Daaaady?" Landon called. Ron sat up, groggily, to find that it was midnight and still raining. He pushed back the blankets and walked into Landon's room. He was sitting up in bed, and rubbed his eyes as Ron turned on the lights.
"What wrong, buddy?" Ron asked, crossing the room to sit on Landon's bed.
"I feel bad, Daddy. Make it stop," he said pathetically. Ron felt his son's head, to find it, not only burning up, but also drenched in a cold sweat. He rubbed Landon's back, and the small boy let out a hacking cough, which caused his eyes to well up with tears.
"Daddy, it hurts," he moaned.
"I know, Landon, I know," Ron said.
What do I do, what do I do, what do I do, what do I do. Landon's sick. My son is going to die just because I'm too stupid to figure out how to make him better. What do I do, what do I do, what do I do? Mione would know what to do. But, damn it; she's not here!
Ron lifted his son off of the bed, and Landon was limp in his arms. He walked downstairs to the only phone in the house, and hit the speed-dial for Hermione's cellular phone. After three rings and Ron's incessant incoherent cursing under his breathe at stupid Muggle electronics, Hermione's answerphone picked up.
"Hi, this is Hermione Granger-Weasley. I'm on holiday right now, and forbidden from answering my phone right now. If it's an emergency, I'm staying at the Hyatt Regency Maui in room 587. Or, you can call my home phone, and leave a message on the answerphone there or with Ron. Thanks!"
"Mione, it's me," he said. "Look, Landon's sick, and I'm don't know what to do. I'm calling your room, so-"
"Ron?!" Hermione frantically picked up. "Ron, what's wrong? Landon's sick?"
"Yeah. He's got a pretty high fever, he's coughing and he's all sweaty," Ron said frantically, while trying to soothe his moaning son.
"I'm coming home," Hermione said decidedly.
"No, no you're not," Ron told her. "Hermione, you deserve a vacation more than anyone. You stay and have a good time, just tell me what to do, I'll do it, and then get back to you."
Hermione sounded near tears with frustration. "That's the thing, Ron," she told him, "I don't know what to do. I…I don't know. My mum would know."
"I'll call her, then. Blast, she already thinks that I'm incapable and irresponsible."
"Of course she doesn't, Ron! She loves you. It's my dad who thinks that you're incapable and irresponsible, but that's not the point! Landon's sick, and we need to do something about it. Call my mum and ask her what to do, or to come over. She doesn't really live that far away. Call me back when you've finished talking to her."
"Thanks, Baby."
"Bye."
Ron hung up the phone, and did the first thing that came to his mind. He went to the linen closet in the hallway and removed a washcloth, soaking it with water and sticking it in the freezer to chill while he called his mother-in-law.
"He-hello?" came a groggy voice.
"Rick, it's Ron. Can I talk to Mum?"
"What's wrong?" asked his father-in-law, alert now.
"Landon's sick and Hermione's away. I don't know what to do. Let me talk to Mum."
The phone was immediately handed over.
"Ron, dear, what's wrong with him?" asked his mother-in-law. Ron always liked the woman, she was sweet, sophisticated, intellectual, compassionate, and she gave and loved unconditionally, never thinking of her own benefit. Of course, she was the precise foil in almost all ways from his mother, but the two of them each emanated dissimilar facets that mutually fashioned the personification of motherhood.
"He's burning up, he's sweating, and he's coughing," Ron told Helen Granger. He opened the freezer and pulled out the cold washcloth. "Hold on a sec, Mum."
He put the phone down and turned to his son. "This is going to be cold, buddy, but it'll help your head, all right?"
Landon nodded sleepily, and Ron delicately placed the cloth on Landon's head. He whimpered a bit at the cold at first.
"Hold this here; don't let it go," Ron told him. The small boy nodded, and Ron held up his finger. "Don't let it, go, all right? Good?" He picked up the phone again.
"Ron," said Helen, "Rick and I will be right over. Keep the door unlocked; we'll let ourselves in, because I need you to go into the bathroom and turn the shower on and close the door so it gets nice and steamy. Just sit in there with him. It will clear his lungs and help break the fever. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
"Thanks, Mum."
He picked up Landon and walked upstairs, turning the shower on as high as it could go, and sat on the edge of the tub with Landon in his lap, stroking his back and whispering soothing words in his ear.
There was a knock on the door, and his mother-in-law came in, totting over her only grandson. Ron carried him back into his bedroom, and left him alone with Nana. He heard Emily crying. He walked into the nursery, to find his father-in-law holding his now cooing daughter.
Rick turned around, sensing the approach of his son-in-law. "How do you get the cow to do that?" he said, referring to the cow jumping over the moon that was animated during the nighttime, as opposed to the swirling clouds in the daytime.
"I'm not exactly sure," Ron said. "Some sort of animation spell. You remember my sister, Ginny? She's the artist of the family; she's the one who did the spell."
"This really is a lovely room," said Rick. "Erm…look, Ron, I know that I've not always been the…erm, easiest person to get along with, although you've been married to my daughter for…seven years? Anyway…well, I really think that she's a lucky girl."
"Thanks, Rick," Ron said. "It…actually, means a lot."
"Daaaady…"
"Got to go," Ron said, leaving grandfather and daughter alone in the nursery.
"Hey, man," he said upon entering his son's room. "Is Nana taking good care of you?"
"Yes, Daddy. Daddy?"
"What, Landon?"
"I want Mummy."
Helen spoke up. "He's been talking to me about how much he misses Mummy and wants to talk to her," she said pointedly.
"I'll go get the phone, dude," he said, mussing the small boy's. Ron ambled down the staircase and recovered the freestyle receiver, dialling Hermione's speed dial. Within seconds, Landon was giggling on the phone as he talked to his mother.
Helen stood up, and walked with Ron out of the room. "Give him cough syrup every six hours, like it says on the bottle. You'll have to look at the dosage; I can't think of it off the top of my head. Make sure that you keep a cold cloth on his head to help the fever break. Keep him inside tomorrow, no children over. Make sure that he stays in bed, and gets plenty of fluid and rest. He just has the croup, it's not a very big deal, but you were right to call me when you did. It could have turned into pneumonia, which could have landed him in the hospital. And make sure that you keep Emily away from him, all right? Speaking of my granddaughter, I'm going to peak in on her before Rick and I head on our merry way."
"Daaaady…"
He turned to go into Landon's room, where he was holding up the phone victoriously.
"Mummy said that I'm her brave little soldier!" he said proudly.
"Did she now?" asked Ron. "Well, Private Weasley, it is time for bed! And that's an order from your Commanding Officer!"
"Yes, sir!" Landon exclaimed exuberantly, complete with a salute. Ron tucked the covers up around him, and stroked his hair until he fell asleep. He picked up the phone and turned out he light as he headed out into the hallway. Helen and Rick met him there, closing the door to the nursery behind them.
"We'll be heading home now," said Rick.
"Yeah, lemme walk you out," Ron said, half asleep himself. "Thanks so much for coming over. Hermione's on holiday with my sisters-in-law in Hawaii and she had no clue what to do either. I really appreciate it."
"Don't mention it, Dear," said Helen, standing on tiptoes to kiss her son-in-law. Rick shook Ron's hand and the two of them walked outside to their Lexus, Ron locking the door behind them.
He walked back upstairs, barely able to keep his sleep encumbered eyes open. He hit speed dial one as he hiked up the staircase, and lingered uncomplainingly as Hermione's mobile phone rang.
"How is he?" came Hermione's sweet, but tired voice.
His previously phlegmatic steps became more effervescent as the echo of his wife's voice, and a smile crept onto his stubbly face.
"He's all right. Your mum's wonderful," he said to her, through a yawn.
"I know," she replied.
"What are you doing?"
"Watching the sun rise. It's beautiful."
"Not as beautiful as you, I'm sure," he said, under the semblance of repartee, but entirely genuine.
She tittered self-effacingly.
"Hey," he said, "Get some sleep, and tomorrow, you'd better enjoy yourself, eh?"
"I have never been forced to have fun before."
"Well, you'd better."
"Good night."
"Good night."
*
"Mummy! Mummy! Mummy!" Landon came pelting through the kitchen and into his mother's arms.
"How's my good boy?" Hermione asked, holding her son close.
"Mummy, guess what? Daddy taught me how to tie my shoes!" Landon exclaimed exuberantly.
"He did? Show me!"
Landon plonked down on the carpet, sticking his tongue out of the side of his mouth in passionate meditation, mumbling to himself, "You make a bridge…then go under…then pull tight…then bunny ears…then go around the tree…and pull tight…TAAAAH DAAAH!!!"
"Very good!" Hermione animated. "Positively wonderful! I missed you so much!" She took her son in her arms again.
"Mummy," he fussed and squirmed, "geroff!" She liberated the little boy and he scampered off.
"Where's your father?" Hermione called after him.
"He's with Emmy!" Landon shouted back. Hermione picked up her bags and toted them into the master suite, magically sending her garments and shoes zooming back to the proper locations before exiting again, only to be attacked by the puppy. Hermione petted the dog, before opening the door to the nursery, where she smiled happily at the sight before her. Ron was lying on the wicker love seat, his legs draped over the arm, with Emily's tiny body resting happily on his chest. Both of them were asleep. Hermione walked over to them, and noticed something covering Emily's rump and Ron's chest. She tilted her head sideways to look at the periodical. Typical. Quidditch Weekly: Special Edition! The Chudley Cannons- They've Swept England by Storm, and Now They're Flying Into Your Living Room! This moment was too good to pass up. She walked back to the master suite and removed her small camera from its' now seemingly permanent location in her purse. Once she was back in the nursery, she stood just a few feet in front of them and captured the lovely moment forever.
"Oh, Ron," she whispered.
"What?" Ron asked, his eyes fluttering open. He began to sit up, but must have realized that the weight on his chest was his daughter. He carefully lifted her, trying not to wake her, as the magazine fell to the floor. Hermione stooped to pick it up as Ron gently set Emily in her flower crib.
"I've missed you," he whispered to Hermione, linking her arms around his waist, as she looped hers around his neck.
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Prove it."
"Aw, Mione," he said, feigning a blush, "Not in front of the kids." She laughed and the two of them walked from the room. Once in the hallway, he properly kissed her senseless.
"EEEWW!" came the tiny voice from the tiny body that was crouched in a 'hiding' position on the steps. "Ew, that was reallyreally gross. Oh man, oh man, that was reallyreally gross."
Hermione bit back laughter. "Oh man, oh man, oh man," Ron said, "It's time for bed, man; it's reallyreally time for bed."
Landon hung his head in shame and walked silently, head bowed, to his room. When in the doorway, he stopped, turned around, and said, "I am sorry for the interruption. If you do not mind, I need my beauty sleep and would prefer not to be disburbed." He then closed the door, and Ron and Hermione didn't hear a peep from him the rest of the night.
"You know," Ron said, looping his arm around Hermione's shoulders as the two of them walked down the steps. "I don't like living without you."
She leaned up for a kiss. "Me neither."