A/N: Yay, early on my update! I'm excited….this chapter actually is my favorite so far.

Thanks to all my reviewers! At the moment, my computer won't let me access my reviews to see who you all are, but you all will receive presents when I figure it out. Hehehe…

Chapter 3: A Family Fiasco

"Families are like fudge... mostly sweet with a few nuts." Author Unknown

The next day, Ron and I leapt out of bed and quickly dressed.

"What time are we meeting everyone again?" I inquired as I applied just a hint of mascara to my eyelashes.

"Nine 'o clock, Mione, they've only been reminding us every day for the past month now," he replied sarcastically.

Stung, I turned away from the mirror and looked at him in surprise. I wasn't sure if he was still upset about our argument from the night before. My stomach dropped when I registered his cold, indifferent expression.

"Ron, I'm sorry…" I couldn't really articulate what exactly I was sorry for, though. I felt the inner corners of my eyes begin to prickle.

Before the tears spilled, thankfully, his stone scowl broke into his trademark boyish grin. "Kidding." He winked.

"Oh….you--!" I hurled the tube of mascara across the room in mock frustration, nailing him on his left shoulder. He laughed, and I couldn't help but join in. I ran across the room and tackled him, forcing him onto the unmade bed.

"You know, let's just forget last night ever happened," I said, laying my head on his chest.

"Mmmmm….well, if arguing leads to situations like this, I'm not too sure I'm keen on getting along with you."

"Ron!" His name came out as half a laugh.

He moved his left hand from my back to glance at his watch. "Blimey, it's five till. As much as I hate to say it…"

"We'd better get a move on." I finished his sentence. I rolled off of him, stood up, and tucked a few unruly strands of hair behind my ears. "Don't worry," I added suggestively, "we'll pick up where we left off later."

If this would have transpired five years ago, Ron would have turned purple, spluttered incomprehensibly for thirty seconds, and finally run out of the room. It was a sign of how much we'd both grown up when he responded coolly, "I can't wait."

Instead of Apparating to the Leaky Cauldron, where we were meeting everyone, we decided to go "the long way", as Ron liked to call it. We strolled out of our flat into Diagon Alley, admiring the lavish displays of Christmas decorations in every window, including a set of child's Chudley Cannons robes hanging in a Quidditch shop. The second he saw them, Ron made a beeline for the bright orange robes.

"Wicked…" I could practically see him salivating. "I always wanted a set like these when I was younger…"

"Well, I think you're a bit big for them now, don't you agree?" I teased. A bit big? The hem of the robes would have fallen at his waist, and he wouldn't have been able to fit his arm, much less his head, through the neck.

"Yeah, but I was thinking…maybe for someone else…" He turned to me, his blue eyes shining.

"Harry's smaller than you, but I doubt he'll fit into those either."

"Hermione!" He groaned, rolling his eyes, but his tone of voice was good-natured.

"Okay, seriously…who would you buy those for?"

"I dunno….maybe one of Bill's boys, I guess." For some reason, I got the sense he was hiding something, but given our recent argument, I decided not to push it.

"We better go for real now," I said, checking my watch. "we're nearly five minutes late."

We briskly walked the quarter-mile to the Leaky Cauldron, where we had no trouble identifying our family; the majority of them had flaming ginger hair.

"Gin!" I couldn't help exclaiming as I caught sight of my best friend. Throwing my arms around her, I squealed, "You look great! How are you?"

"Oh, you know, I'm as good as I can be running on four hours of sleep," she joked. As I took a closer look at her face, I noticed dark circles under her eyes, but, except for that and a slightly thicker waistline, she was still the same Ginny I giggled with at Hogwarts.

"Merlin, James is getting big!" I commented, turning to Harry, who cradled their seven month old in his arms.

"I know," Harry replied with a smile (I noticed he had circles too, in addition to some stubble on his chin), "my arms get tired after twenty minutes or so."

I gazed down at baby James. He captured the most obvious features of his parents; his wide emerald eyes stared at me in innocent wonder, and a shock of red hair had already sprouted from his head. I ran my index finger down his cheek, and he broke into a smile, his baby fat dimpling.

The moment could have become something much more meaningful, but two shrill voices arguing in the background jarred me from my thoughts.

"NO! Don't want to!" A darling little girl with silvery blonde hair was throwing a full-scale temper tantrum. A beautiful woman with matching hair desperately tried to reason with her, brandishing a tiny pink cloak.

"Fleur?" I gasped, approaching her.

"Not now, 'Ermione," she brushed me off. "Eesabel, you 'ave to wear your cloak! Eet ees very cold outside, and I do not want you to get sick!"

"NONONONONONO!" For such a small girl, she sure had a lot of lung power.

"Sorry you have to see that, Hermione," a red-haired man spoke. It was Bill, with his three other children in tow. "Isabel's smack in the middle of her terrible twos right now."

"It's completely fine," I replied with a smile. "How's Gringotts?"

He began, "Well, I—"

"Daddy, when are we going to get Grandma's present?" a small, redheaded boy piped up next to him.

"In just a few minutes, Davy," he replied graciously. Turning back to me, he continued, "I just—"

"Can we get her a hippogriff?" Davy interrupted again.

"No, Davy," Bill replied again. An annoyed tone crept into his voice, though he still spoke kindly. "I don't think Grandma would like—"

"Glinda!" Bill's other daughter, Diane, launched herself at me, hitting me in the knees. Ever since her family had seen me in Wicked, Diane was convinced that I actually was Glinda, even when I was without my pink gown and out of character.

"Dad, can I have some firewhisky?" The oldest boy, Joaquin, ambled over to our group, looking hopeful.

"No, Joaquin, you may not," Bill responded sternly as he tried to pry Diane from my leg, though he wore an amused expression. "You're ten years old, why on Earth would you think your mother and I would buy—"

"But Uncle Ron said he would."

Bill and I shot Ron identical glared. At that very second, Isabel decided to dart between Fleur's legs and made a beeline for the Muggle street. Bill and I both ran toward the screaming girl. Well, I attempted to, at least; Diane was still clamped to my leg, adding about thirty pounds and preventing any movement.

Suddenly, I felt a tugging on my sleeve. I wheeled around, almost losing my balance, hoping to see another adult. Instead, Davy's blue eyes (so similar to his uncle's) met mine.

"Aunt Hermione, d'you think Grandma would like something like that?" he inquired innocently, pointing to a leering shrunken head hanging from the ceiling by the bar.

"Well…" As I racked my brains for a tactful, yet truthful, answer, I spotted Ron and Joaquin at the bar, holding identical amber drinks.

"Ron, NO!" I tried to get to the bar. Unfortunately, I forgot all about Diane. I fell flat on my face. I rolled over on my back and stared up at Davy, who was still waiting for my opinion. I couldn't think at all; Isabel's wails had reached a deafening volume. Diane clambered on top of me, kneeing me in the stomach, and sat on my chest.

"Diane—love," I choked, "Aunt—Hermione—can't—breathe—"

"Get off, I was talking to her first!" Davy whined, pushing his sister. They began to bicker loudly, adding to the din.

Suddenly, a wolf-whistle cut through the ruckus. Every Weasley's head turned, searching for the source.

Ginny stood on a chair in the middle of the room, looking exactly like her mother when she, too, was enraged.

"Now that I've got you're attention," she blared, "I'm going to tell you what to do, or, in some cases, what not to do. Listen, or suffer the consequences. Davy, Diane, stop arguing, and stop killing Hermione. Isabel, wear your cloak, or else you will get sick, honey. Ron, don't encourage underage drinking around your nieces and nephews. They're wild enough as it is, if you hadn't noticed."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ron push the two glasses back at the bartender as Joaquin pouted.

Ginny continued. "Keep in mind Christmas is coming, and it's not too late for you lot not to get gifts." Davy and Diane exchanged horrified glances.

Ginny stepped down from the chair and took baby James, who was the quietest child in the group, from Harry.

"Nice going," Harry said to her with a wink.

"I learned for the best referee of them all," she replied evenly. "If you can handle Fred and George, you're prepared for anything."

Too right you are, I thought to myself, still lying on the grungy restaurant floor.

A/N: Please, please, review. It would make my day. Personally, I feel like I'm getting back in the swing of fanfic writing; it felt really unnatural when I was writing the first two chapters, but this one seemed to flow so much better. Plus, it's basically the story of my life, since I'm the oldest of four. Heh heh.