Ch. 6 Mum, We need to talk

Ron landed in his parent's den, dusting soot and grime from his jacket. He wanted to deal with this for some time, especially now that his wife knew what not to do. It had been bad enough to get humiliated at work, even if it was because of her flighty secretary, but to take it from his Mum in front of the kids? That was going too far. He needed to engage this fight, once in for all. He regretted the necessity in the first place.

He stepped into the kitchen, and didn't see Mum. Dad would wait, but he needed to deal with her now before his temper got the best of him. Dad would understand, as long as he didn't put his size 13 feet in his mouth.

He looked out, and saw her with the rest of his siblings outside. No one else seemed to have left. Thankfully, the kids were out in the field playing while the adults were still at the table talking. Owe for a knut, pay a whole Galleon. A few quick breaths later, and he strolled out of the kitchen door confidently walking up to his parents.

"There you are! About time you got back here. Now clean – "

"Mum, let's talk inside."

"But you still have to – "

"Mum, I asked you to come inside so we can talk. Please." He said even more quiet.

"You will apologize to everyone right now before I move."

He glanced at his siblings and gave them a look. Dad, at the end of the table, knew that look. He wasn't about to interfere unless there was bloodshed. With his wife and youngest son, that might be entirely possible. They were both so high-strung.

"Mum, we need to talk, inside."

She crossed her arms on her chest, trying to stand up just a touch further than her five foot two frame. "You didn't apologize," she huffed.

He turned, and strode back to the house. He knew she would follow, especially when he was being quiet and restrained. That wasn't him, her volatile son. He was loud, impolite, and rude bordering on occasionally cruel, but never quiet and polite.

He grabbed a glass of water from the counter in the kitchen, and went into the Parlor to wait. He knew he wouldn't have to wait long. She wasn't like his beloved Hermione, who would tear into him in a fight, going toe to toe with him, then be stubborn enough to not talk to him for a week if she thought she was right. She wasn't like his sister either, who never walked away from a fight to save her life, right or wrong. He knew for years his mum would occasionally stoop to being a bully to get her way, and for the most part, he could handle her tirades. Today was the last straw.

"Ronald?" he heard her voice echo through the house. He would wait. He had to. His integrity demanded it.

"There you are. Now get back out there and apologize."

"No." It was quiet, yet full of conviction.

"Excuse me, but did you just tell me – "

"I said no, Mum, and I mean no. I'm not apologizing again."

"I don't know who you think you are, but that isn't the way I raised you. You have a lot of nerve acting this way in front of your family."

He turned around, seeing the flush on her face, and the hands on her hips.

"I'm tired of you treating me like I'm still five years old," he said quietly. He fought down the rising temper in his voice, quashing it finally. "I'm sick of it. You disrespected me in front of my wife and children, and right now, Hermione is trying to stem the damage."

He looked, and she could have been a statue. She was rooted to the spot she stood at, trying to find a comeback.

"You taught us to honor and respect you, and I have done that. I apologized almost immediately, and told you what we were going to do – take the kids home and get them cleaned up, then return. I never ran off and left a mess. You assumed, and thought you could bully me for it. Well, I'm done with it."

Breathe, he thought. You can do this. Breathe.

"I earned the Howler you sent when I was 12 by stealing the family car and flying with Harry to Hogwarts. I deserved it. But damn it, I'm not twelve now. I'm 32, and I will not tolerate you treating me that way anymore." He continued, trying to keep the emotions in check a little while longer. Fighting with his wife was one thing, but Mum was another. "It's one thing to yell at me in front of the family. But you will not do that in front of my kids again. If you want to yell at me again, we do it in here, where no one else can hear it. Are we clear?"

He stood there, trying not to glare at his mum. She was like his wife, but even she crossed the line on occasion. If he wasn't fighting so hard, he would have already passed out from the sheer mental exhaustion. He couldn't wait much longer.

"Fine then," he growled. "If you can't respect me, and treat me like an adult then I'm going home. We will deal with this some other day."

He turned to take his glass back to the kitchen before he left. They might have their differences, but he was still Ron Weasley, and he needed time to get his head screwed on straight before seeing his beloved family. He wouldn't take his frustrations out on his kids, nor his beloved wife.

"Wait." It was barely above a whisper, and if he hadn't been straining, he wouldn't have heard it. It's funny, but even on occasion, Molly Weasley could be quiet. "You're right. I was out of line, and that was uncalled for."

Ron turned back to his mum, who was still standing in the doorway to the parlor.

"I didn't hear you apologize to the family when it happened, and I didn't realize that you were intending to come back after the kids were cleaned up. I assumed that you took the kids and left because you didn't want to deal with the mess."

He walked back to her, taking her liver spotted, wrinkled hand in his, and brought her to the couch. He sat her down, and then sat down next to her, crumpling her hand woven afghan. "I might have run away when I was fourteen, and I certainly did when I was eighteen, but that changed the first time I couldn't rescue Hermione. I nearly lost her then, and I wasn't going to be that way any further if I could help it. She nearly paid the price for my own stupidity."

He looked at her, intensifying his gaze. "I passed out the day that Hermione told me I was going to be a Daddy. Once I came to, I said I wouldn't abandon my family. Since that day, I've not. Sure there have been many a night I've slept on the couch, but I won't walk out on them. Hermione is still my everything. My kids mean the world to me."

He looked up, and saw the understanding on her face. "I guess I shouldn't call you my boy anymore. My son sitting in front of me is certainly a man in his own right. You have been for years, and I didn't recognize it. I'm sorry I didn't realize it until now."

Ron leaned over, and gave his mum one of his massive hugs. Even as the curvy as she was, she was dimutive in his massive embrace. "Love you Mum."

"Love you too, Son. I'm sorry I berated you."

"Don't be. Just pick the right place and time. Poor Hugo didn't understand. He had Rosie Posie and Hermione lecturing him." He grinned, giving her his patented lop sided grin. "Poor kid's gonna need a mind healer after that."

Molly dabbed at the corner of her eye with her well-hidden handkerchief. "Well, get on home and take care of your family. I'll see you next weekend."

"Thanks Mum," as he stood up from the couch to make his way back home to his own family. "I'll have Hermione come by tomorrow with the kids so they can have a play day with their cousins."

"That would be lovely. I'll apologize tomorrow."

"Thanks Mum. I appreciate it."