A/N: I'm very sorry that I left this at two chapters for such a long time : (. I'm back though, at least for now! Read and review, if you would be so kind.
"I told you mum, I don't know," Ron repeated, frustrated by his mother's inability to understand.
"But why does he need to stay with us?" Molly asked, frowning at Ron when he rolled his eyes. She and her son were huddled over the stove, Ron giving a rushed, second-hand account of the time travel mission. She turned, carrying the brisket to the dining room table. "I would be glad to take him in, you know," she added, "But I feel as if I don't know much."
"Well, I don't either," Ron replied, folding his arms. He paused, uncertain. "You'll take him then?"
"Yes, yes, I'll take him," Molly said quickly, waving a hand. "Ron, will you help set the table?" she interjected, thrusting a stack of plates into his arms before he could refuse. "He can have your room if he likes." Ron scowled, his mother ignored him. "Will we at least get to meet the boy?"
"Yes, at dinner," Ron replied, impatient as always. "That's what I've been trying to tell you."
"You have?" she looked around, suddenly panicked. "But we don't have enough food!"
"It's er… he and Stan and Norm, didn't I say that?"
"No, you didn't," a voice interrupted. Charlie looked up from the couch, draining the last of his butterbeer. "I've been listening." He strode over to his brother and mum, a genial expression on his easy face. "Here Mum, why don't I help."
She smiled, patting his cheek. "Thank you dear. Oh, I've got to make more meat now. Perhaps if I double the amount?" She bit her lip, using her wand to do the trick. "But it might not taste the same…" she said, speaking mostly to herself. Her sons looked at one another, smirking. Molly had been like this all their lives.
"Who is this bloke, anyhow?" Charlie asked, abruptly serious.
"Don't ask me," Ron replied, shrugging. "I barely met him."
"D'you like him?"
Ron made a face. "Reminds me a bit of Malfoy."
Charlie threw his head back, laughing. "So you've condemned him already," he summarized.
"Where's Harry?" Molly asked, turning back abruptly. "He and Ginny are coming, aren't they?"
"I should hope so," Charlie replied, a giant grin still on his face. "It's my coming home dinner. I must see my nieces and nephews!"
"Yes, well, Roxanne was ill earlier, dear, so George and Angie might not be coming."
"What?" Charlie asked, looking thoroughly crestfallen. "No George and Roxanne and…" he broke off, shaking his head. "Sorry," he murmured. "Still have a little trouble calling their son Fred." He looked accusingly at Ron. "I can't believe you don't. You are you and everything."
Ignoring the insult, and the question over Fred's name, Ron answered his mother in a loud voice. "Yes Mum, Harry's coming. He went to escort Hermione and Ginny, since, y'know pregnancy makes travel hard."
Molly looked up, sighing. "Charlie," she addressed him, answering him first. "You haven't seen him enough – "
"Seen who?" Ron interrupted.
"You haven't seen Fred enough," Molly repeated. "That's why you aren't used to it. You will be, though," she added threateningly, insinuating that perhaps she expected him to move back home. "And Ron, yes," her eyes twinkled, "Of course. It's only a few weeks until their due dates, isn't it?" Her knowing smile let on that she'd been keeping count.
"Til Hermione's, yeah. Ginny's got over a month, remember."
"Right, right. Are you ready to be a father?" She asked, clasping her hands together.
Ron choked on air, sputtering, and then sighed in relief at the sounds from the foyer. The door swung open, revealing Harry, Hermione and Ginny behind it. The women's bellies were swollen as expected, Hermione's looking ready to burst. Ron went to kiss his wife, and Charlie shut his eyes comically.
"How are you?" Ron asked, his voice sweeter than anyone had heard it before. He turned his head, watching as Harry helped his sister into a chair. "She alright, Harry?"
"I'm fine," Ginny answered, "And I can speak for myself, thanks Ron."
"She's been emotional today," Hermione whispered. "Anyway, I'm fine."
"You are?"
"Yes," she leaned forward, kissing the freckled tip of Ron's nose. "Harry told me about Peeta, Ron."
"He did?" Ron replied, grunting as he pulled them into a chair. He tried to sound indifferent, but it came out as very grumpy.
"Yes," Hermione repeated, leaning her head against his chest. "And I think it's nice, Ron."
"You do?" he leaned forward to meet her eyes, surprised.
"Well, of course. This …" she patted her tummy, "this future world is our child's future. Or our grandchild's maybe."
"It's further ahead than that, Hermione," Ron interrupted.
She held up a hand, stopping him, and he obeyed. Hermione had been scaring him more and more, ever since the pregnancy – he'd learned to listen to her.
"Either way," she continued, "We can't just let it dissolve, can we? That wouldn't be right. Especially not now that we know what happens." They sat in silence, Ron's stomach squirming in the way that it always did when she was right.
"So what do you want to do?" he asked, bitterness oozing between his words.
"Well, I'd like to meet Peeta first," she said. "And you know," she went on, taking his hands. "After that, it isn't really up to us, is it? For once, this is someone else's mission."
Ron's expression grew dark. "But it isn't really that way, Hermione," he muttered. "Course they're going to want advice from The Chosen One."
"Mmm," Hermione replied, rubbing her finger across the hairs on the back of his knuckles. She didn't say anything else, deciding to wait for his kettle of resentments to boil over.
One by one, the other siblings began to arrive. Bill and Fleur came with their lot in tow, and soon Percy and Audrey arrived with Lucy and Molly II. Everyone chatted contentedly, the news of the mission spreading in whispers. Eyes flickered nervously to the door after that, and everyone spoke with a bit too much bravado.
"Where are they, Ron?" Molly finally snapped. "There are only so many times I can use a reheating spell on dinner."
Ron raised his hands, annoyed. "Don't ask me, Mum. It's not as if I know. And anyway, where's Dad?"
"Oh, you're father's working late tonight," she replied. "You didn't see him today?"
"No, we were down in the Department of Mysteries," Harry replied. Involuntarily, he gave a kind of twitch. The place continued too many memories, and most of them were bad ones. Ginny took his hand.
"Ah, well," Molly continued, "he's working late. Don't expect him until desert."
"Where are they?" Ron muttered, mostly to himself.
"St. Mungos, right?" Harry asked, frowning.
"Dunno. I mean, that's what Norm said, but who can tell with him?" Ron asked. "Mum, can I have a firewhiskey?" he asked, extending his hand for one.
"You certainly may not –"
"I'm way over the age limit!" Ron retorted. "Mum, I'm not a teenager anymore."
"I know that," Molly replied, her patience spluttering to its end. Her eyes seemed to pull their sockets toward them, fixing a rather daunting glare on her son. "But we haven't eaten yet, and you are not ruining your appetite." Ron rolled his eyes.
"Anyway," Harry said, returning to their earlier conversation. "I don't think Norm would risk anything. Or do anything," he added pointedly. "They're probably getting stopped for questions."
"Oh bloody hell," Ron said, putting the pieces together. "A Prophet article, do you think?" He pretended to gag; even after all these years, it was not the most beloved of publications.
"Could be," Harry replied calmly.
"Ron," Percy said, straightening his glasses. "They only try to do their job, you know. They aren't villains."
Ron turned his head, ready to snap back, but it was awfully hard with Lucy nestled in his brother's lap. It had become far too difficult to call Percy a prat, ever since he'd had children. He settled for giving Percy a discreet version of the finger, and receiving a swift admonishment from Hermione in turn
"Charlie," Hermione began, trying her best to keep the conversation civil. "How's Romania?"
"Oh, you know," he replied. "It's alright. Dragons are still the same, mostly." He grinned, uncomfortable at getting the spotlight in such a large group of people.
"Uncle Harry," Dominique said, racing in from the yard with the cousins at his heels. The kids – all except Lucy, who detested sports, and Louis, who was only a baby – had been playing Quidditch in the field. "Where's James?"
"Oh, we thought we'd let him stay over with Teddy and Andromeda."
Ginny gave a little moan of mother's anxiety. "And I still can't believe we did. He's only three for Godric's sake," she said, hitting her husband in the arm.
Harry grimaced, "I know, Gin, but remember we agreed it might be nice for him…"
"So Teddy isn't coming either?" Victoire asked. The adults all smiled, recalling how she hero-worshipped the boy.
"Not tonight," Harry replied, smiling back. He and Ginny then held a hushed debate, deliberating whether the sleepover was a good idea. It turned into more of an argument, really, but the others were so loud that no one could hear. Now that the children were back in the room, they began to complain about the timing of dinner.
"Er… hello?" a rusty voice interrupted. Stan stepped in, waving, Peeta and Norm behind him. "I did knock," he insisted, "but I didn't think you could hear me."
It seemed he'd pulled a plug in the conversations, leaving the room at a buzzing silence. "Come in, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, going to greet him. She knew Stan, although not well. She had only briefly met Norman, however, since he was an Unspeakable. They kept odd hours.
"And hello Norm," she said, pecking him on the cheek. She cast a quick glance to the living room, commanding her extended family to join her at the door. Bill and Harry rose first, going to greet Stan.
"And you must be Peeta," Molly said at last, warmly going to embrace the boy. He looked surprised at first, unused to motherly affection (from a woman whom he'd never met before, no less), but eventually reciprocated.
"Thank you for having me," he said. His voice was tight, probably full of nerves, but he sounded perfectly friendly. There was a certain air to him, as well. Politeness, or something near to it. Perhaps that's what Ron picked up on, that he detested so much.
"Well, why don't we eat?" Molly asked, artfully cutting off her family before they could reach Peeta and shake his hand. He looked so young. She had a stray desire to make this night easy for him, to take care of him.
She led them to the table, gesturing at seats for Peeta and the ministry employees.
"No need to wait," she said pointedly, eyeing Ron and Charlie who had already begun.
"Sorry mum," both muttered.
The table was silent for a few moments, everyone eating and feeling nervous, until Stanley spoke. "Mmm, Mrs. Weasley, your food is just as delicious as the boys say."
"The boys?" Ron mouthed to Harry, annoyed. Harry shrugged.
"Thank you," Molly replied, smiling sweetly to Stanley.
He tapped Peeta's shoulder, in what appeared a rather rough matter. "Didn't I tell you? It's just as good as the damned Capitol's food."
Peeta gave a quiet, delicate chuckle. "Yeah." He glanced up, clearing his throat. "Yeah, it really is delicious." He smiled at Molly as well, his expression skillfully charming her.
"Thank you," Molly said. She paused, for only a moment, and then decided to go on. "Peeta, I'm very curious… is there – would you like to tell us about your future?"
He sighed, his smile flickering and then transforming to a frown. "Where do you want me to start?"
A/N: All for now : ). I suppose I could have kept it going, but I think the explanation will make a nice chapter of its own. Many thanks for reading! If you could review, that would be amazing.