Ch. 11 - A Hero's Reward
A/N: Still not JK Rowling, but I'd love to have Ron check up on me when he's on call. A spot of tea would be nice. - DG
Ron stepped inside the hallway to his home, listening to the giggles and cackles of his children playing in the den of their residence. A whiff of dinner – Hermione's honey ham was always welcome - greeted him like an old friend. The only thing he liked better than the smell of dinner was the smell of his wife in his arms.
He had a call-out last night at half eleven, dragging him from the warmth of his wife and his comfortable new bed to Stoke on Trent for a murder. Ruddy mess that was, and he was just getting home after being on scene sixteen hours.
"Daddy!" yelled the chorus of his kids who tried to tackle him to the floor. In a few years, they would probably be successful. Then again, if he can catch his wife still when she jumped into his arms, he might have a few years remaining.
He picked up Rose, throwing her over his broad shoulder, and dragged his leg with Hugo on it. His children were his life, but the sight that greeted him in the kitchen was his everything. There stood Hermione, whisking a pot of mashed potatoes to go with the pot of cut pole beans and a loaf of fresh baked bread.
Ron smiled through his exhaustion, feeling the grime from what he saw slough off of him. The kids were still laughing while he was watching his wife, dancing to a little tune inside her own head.
"You must be thinking of a slow song dittany."
She turned and flashed a smile that warmed his cold tarnished soul. "Just a little something my husband played for me one morning on Valentine's Day so long ago."
Ron smiled at the memory of that day and of that morning. He doubted that Hermione remembered it the way he did. She smiled, giving him that special one that promised so much more when the kids weren't present. Ron shook Hugo from his leg, and set Rose down on the ground also. "Go wash up."
Hugo play gagged, earning a smirk from Rose too. "Come on Hugo. They want to kiss without us here."
"Ugh. They are so gross!"
Hermione looked down at her perceptive kids, smiling back. "I need a quiet moment with Daddy before he gets to play with you the rest of the day. Run along and do as he asked you."
"Aw Mum!" they intoned in unison while scurrying from the room.
Hermione took two steps, crashing her lips into her husband. "Missed you."
He growled while meeting her in response. "So awful."
She pulled back, threading her hands up to his face, seeing the grief hidden in his eyes. "Now or later?"
"Tonight, please."
"Of course."
She kissed him once again, threading her hands across his hips and onto his bum. A quick hard squeeze and she turned back to the pots on the stove.
He threaded his long arms around her waist, nudging her hair out of the way so he could pepper her neck with light kisses.
"Dinner won't be ready for another fifteen minutes. You've got time for a shower, dear."
Rambunctious feet echoed down the hall. Bickering preceded the siblings. "Rose!"
"I said so, Hugo!"
They slid to a halt. The kids saw Daddy kissing Mum yet again before he gave them a huge grin. He let her go and trudged out of the kitchen for a much needed hot shower.
Hermione blushed. Being caught by the kids was something she wasn't accustomed to yet. She looked down at them, seeing bright blue eyes looking up at her.
"Is Daddy ok?"
Hermione quickly turned off the burners before turning back to the kids. Such perceptive kids. They take after him, they do. "Daddy had a bad day at work. It was long and rough. But once he has a shower and supper, he'll be fine."
"I missed him."
"I know. I did too."
"Mummy?"
Hermione hunched down to look at her son. Hugo was the best of both of them: bushy auburn hair with bright blue eyes. "Yes, dear?"
"Why does Daddy come home mad?"
"Daddy's not mad, just frustrated." Hermione reached for her neck before realizing she did it. Instead, she put her hands on his shoulders, kneeling down to talk with him like she still did with Kreacher. "Daddy is a good guy, like Prince Reggie."
Two sets of heads nodded in understanding.
"Sometimes, Daddy has to deal with bad people, who hurt others."
"But why would someone do that?"
Sigh. "Not everyone is like a good guy like Daddy."
"But why, Mummy?"
Hermione looked at her daughter, knowing the gears were running in her head. She was brilliant in the same ways, but with Ron's influences. "Sweetie, I've been trying to figure that out for years too. I don't understand it either, but Daddy and I work hard to help those who are hurt. You know that, right?"
Two small heads bobbed once again.
"You know those nights when you get to stay with Aunt Ginny during the week? Or Gramma Molly comes over and babysits?"
Quiet footsteps and a smell of wet Ron told her he was standing in the doorway listening to their conversation now.
Two quiet uh huh's reply back to her. "Those are the nights that Mummy has to help Daddy. Daddy's my hero too – but even heroes on occasion need help. Does that make sense?"
"You mean like when Prince Henry was helped by Prince Reggie and Princess Hera?"
Hermione smiled. "That's right Hugo. Daddy was out being a hero and helping keep the world a better place."
Hugo looked up, showing his snaggle toothed grin. "I want to be like Daddy when I grow up."
Hermione smiled. "I think that would be a good guy to emulate. What about Prince Reggie?"
Hugo screwed up his face, remembering the bedtime stories that Mum and Dad told him. "Prince Reggie is awesome, but Daddy is right here. Besides, Prince Reggie is make-believe. You told us there is a difference between make believe and reality."
"Close enough for now, dear."
"What do you mean, Mummy?"
Hermione smiled while looking and her brilliant kids. "There is a difference between fantasy and make believe, and folklore and legends and myth. When you're older, I'll explain the difference. But I want you to know that Prince Reggie and Prince Henry and Princess Hera were real."
Two sets of bright blue eyes went as wide as a house elf's. "Really? They were real?"
Hermione nodded while casting a side-long glance at her husband. He had slipped on a jumper to go with his lounge trousers. "They were, but there are some things that we're just not certain about now. When you're older, and we think you're ready, we'll tell you what we know of Prince Reggie and Princess Hera. Will that do for now?"
Two small heads nodded in approval. "Now, go sit down at the table while Daddy and I set it. Dinner's almost ready."
The kids went to the breakfast table with a book each waiting on dinner.
Hermione stood at the sink in their kitchen washing dishes. Ron brought the rest of the dishes in for her to wash up. She might use magic for many a thing in their house but washing dishes was something she preferred doing sans magic. She just didn't think the plates got clean enough for her tastes. The same went for the glasses. A faint smile crossed her lips the first time she tried cleaning glasses via magic – much to Molly Weasley's chagrin. It took a day to clean all of the shards out of the tabletop after that unfortunate accident.
Ron's laughter mingled with the kids' giggles. The kids were the boon, playing games in the den with him. She knew he needed time with them from working so hard away from them. She knew her husband was exhausted. His eyes betrayed what he was thinking, much less feeling. These times, she didn't mind cooking dinner, or washing dishes. She would do anything so he would have those precious moments with the kids before they grew up and moved on from them.
Hermione pushed the sleeve of her jumper back, still cringing from the scar on her arm. It had been fifteen years now, but due to the magical properties, the nasty word still stood out. She hid it most days, whether for professional reasons, or so others wouldn't gawk. She kept a glamour on it when she wasn't wearing warm clothes. The kids didn't know. She wasn't ready to answer their questions. How can you explain the horrors of a war, or that your grandmother killed someone, or that your mum was tortured for information? When is a good time to explain to the kids, if ever, what their family went through, and the sacrifices they made, so the kids could be children, innocent and naïve?
She didn't know if she ever would.
"Mummy, I want a biscuit."
Hermione jumped, startled out of her reverie by her daughter. She hadn't heard the high pitched giggles from her before Rose tugged on her jumper.
"Sure baby. Let me get you a tin out of the cabinet."
Hermione reached up to get a tin of Hobnobs out of the cabinet. Ron wouldn't touch them, but the kids loved them.
"Mummy, what is that on your arm?"
Hermione moved to cover her scar again. Merlin, not yet.
Hermione pulled the top off of the tin and handed six biscuits to her. "These are for you and Daddy and Hugo. You get two each and no more."
Rose took the biscuits in her hands, running out of the kitchen. Laughter and giggles soon followed her departure.
That was too close. I can't put her off forever. But they are barely out of nappies, much less answering questions of why I have a terrible word carved on my arm.
Ron came into the kitchen to get a hand towel. Crumbs coated his hands, and a smear creased his face. "Brilliant idea, even if I can't stand Hobnobs."
"Sorry dear. Rose came in while I was elbows deep in dishes and she startled me." Hermione turned around and leaned back against the sink counter. "Rose saw the scar on my arm and asked me about it."
Ron groaned with her. "She's six."
Hermione scowled. "I realize that. She's noisy like you are."
Ron smiled. "She does take after me, even if she's brilliant like you are."
"But that's just the problem. She's not ready to know yet." Hermione put her hand on her face, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Six is way too young to know what happened to Mummy and Daddy and Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny. I'm not ready to explain to her what happened."
"I realize that. But we'll have to tell them at some point before they go off to Hogwarts."
"I'm not ready for them to be off at school and away from us for months on end."
Ron stepped closer to give his wife a hug. "We have years yet. Rose won't turn 11 until October of that year so we have a little more time with her. Hugo is the same way. He loves stories of the boy who flies on Dragons. I don't think he will have a problem with finding out his parents rode on one also."
"Hugo, No!" came the yell from the den.
Ron turned and ran out the kitchen with his wife on his heels.
Ron stopped and saw what could have happened. Hovering above Hugo's head was the clock from the mantle, an inch from his head. Rose was staring at fiercely. He reached over and plucked it from the air to set it on the table away from the kids.
Hermione stood back shaking. Always reacts that way when the kids get hurt. I'll have to handle it today.
"Rose, what happened?"
"Hugo said he wanted clock and it started flying. I yelled and the clock stopped."
Ron turned and saw Hermione's eyes go wide. "You did? That's great Rosie!"
Rose turned to her Mum. "Did I do good Mummy?"
"You saved Hugo honey. You're my hero."
Rose flashed her snaggletooth grin.
"You did great Rose. You kept Hugo from getting hurt."
Hermione reached over and picked up Hugo. "No clocks for you. Very dangerous."
Hugo giggled when Hermione blew a raspberry on his neck. "Come on you. Time for a bath."
Ron gave a look. "We're going out to Diagon Alley for some ice crème. We'll be back shortly. A hero needs to be rewarded, don't you think?"
"Ice Crème?" said a high pitched voice.
Hermione smiled. "I certainly do. Go show off our Hero to your brother too."
Ron picked up his daughter. She was squirming in his arms ready to get her treat.
"We're going to get ice crème. Mummy and Hugo will stay here. Heroes get a reward for being outstanding. You're a hero today so you're getting ice crème."
Ron looked once more at Hermione before putting his hand into the Floo powder vase. Words weren't needed between them. They were each other's Hero.
=8=