Ron's First Christmas

Passing through the gates into a neighborhood of townhomes with tiny gardens and shiny red doors, Molly hurried along the sidewalk, nodding here and there to witches and wizards in expensive-looking robes. The December breeze snatched at Molly's own tweed coat, bringing with it the polluted stench of London. Finally, she found just the home she was looking for, and scurried up the wrought iron steps to 6 Mafalda Drive and rapped the gold knocker against the crimson door.

"Oh, thank goodness you're here!"

Hermione pulled Molly into the tiled entryway made Christmassy by an abundance of greenery and ribbon. The young woman wore black trousers and a silky white shirt that was sporting what looked like smashed carrots on the left shoulder. Her hair was pulled back, but escaping its confines like an overstuffed cushion.

"You said to come right away," Molly said, a bit breathlessly. "Is it Rose? Is it Ron?"

"Oh. Oh no. I mean, yes, it's Ron," Hermione prattled. "But I fear I overstated the matter. It's just—Well, have a look."

Following Hermione into the sitting room, Molly could not say she knew exactly what the issue was. There was a very pretty tree trimmed in red and gold in the corner, and the rest of the room was overflowing with brightly wrapped Christmas gifts. 'Overflowing' was an understatement. More than half the room was covered in boxes and bags, overtaking the chairs and sofa and even the desk.

"Ron's been Christmas shopping," Hermione said darkly.

"I see," Molly replied, though she didn't. "Is this for the entire family? That's why we decided to pull names this year, remember. The number of gifts for the children was becoming overwhelming."

The older grandchildren had been outraged, accustom to getting a gift from every adult in the family. With the addition of Rose and Albus that year, there were twelve grandchildren, six children plus spouses, and Andromeda to buy for, it was becoming too much. Not to mention that the children were getting a tad spoiled with so many presents. The parents had all agreed to pick a name, to simplify things. Not that this rule applied to Molly, of course, she still made a jumper and a pound of fudge for every family member.

"No," Hermione said, and shook her head. "These are the family gifts, including my parents."

Molly looked at the pile of gifts Hermione indicated, stacked on a hall table. No more than a dozen brightly colored boxes sat there. "Then…" She turned a bemused eye to the overflowing room.

"It's all for Rose."

"For… Rose? Ron bought all of this for Rose?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes."

Molly thought maybe she was beginning to understand the problem.

"We… discussed it, but Ron won't listen to me. I asked Bill to speak to him, but Bill took one look at-at that and laughed his head off. I turned to Percy, but Ron laughed at Percy. So—"

"You need me to intervene?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

"Not at all. I'll just whip up a spot of tea and you go get Ronald."

A few moments later, Molly stood in Hermione's very tidy, but spare kitchen brewing tea when her youngest son loped in. He was wearing an old Cannons jumper and jeans with holes in the knees. Really, Ron lived in this lovely home in this lovely neighborhood, would it kill him to look as if he at least did laundry once in a while?

"Hermione said you needed to speak to me?" Ron said, eyeing Molly quizzically. "Am I in trouble?"

"You're a bit old for that, don't you think?" Molly replied and Levitated the tea tray to the table.

"Um, you gave George a right bollocking last week at Sunday supper."

Molly glared at him. "Honestly, Ronald, you are a father now, would you please watch your language!"

His ears turned red, his shoulders hunching a bit more.

"Have tea with me, dear," Molly said and sat at the small table by the window. She poured two cups of tea, sitting one in front of Ron. "Tell me, are you excited for Rose's first Christmas?"

Ron's face lit up as he gabbled on about all the gifts he had bought for his little girl. All of Molly's sons were doting fathers, of course, but none of them wore it on their sleeve quite like Ron. Perhaps, because the older boys had helped out so much with the younger ones, the small milestones of childhood were less awe-inspiring, or maybe they were just better at masking their emotions, but none of them showed the out and out joy in their children that Ron did. He marveled over every bit of Rose from her tiny toes to her first tooth. She'd be speaking soon, and Molly was sure that Ron would declare his child a genius when that event finally happened.

It was endearing for Molly to watch Ron become such a devoted parent, but not without a spot of worry. Every child deserved to be adored, of course, but not to the point of suffocation. Ron was already showing signs of overprotectiveness. Just the other day he had yelled at Ginny because Jamie took Rose's toy. And oh, the row that ensued when little Lucy threw a stuffed Quaffle that accidently conked Rose on the head and made her cry. It took a lot to stir Percy's temper to the point of shouting, but Ron had managed it. With a mother as tightly wound as Hermione, poor Rose didn't need her father smothering her on top of it.

When Ron stopped extolling the virtues of the latest Baby's First Wand meant to teach correct wand waving from an early age, Molly smiled and sipped her tea.

"And is Rose excited for Christmas?"

"Rose?"

"Yes, the baby for whom you bought all of these miraculous toys. You remember her, don't you?"

Ron narrowed his eyes at his mother. "Of course," he huffed, then shrugged. "I've showed her all the gifts and told her about Father Christmas, but—"

"She doesn't seem to know what it's all about?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"Well, she's not even one yet, is she? Maybe next year." Molly looked past Ron towards the sitting room. "Although… what will you buy her for Christmas next year? Or for her birthday next month, for that matter?"

Ron crammed a biscuit in his mouth, and wiped the crumbs with a napkin. "What d'you mean?"

"Just that it would appear you've bought Rose every baby toy at Troopin's Toy Emporium," Molly replied, lifting her eyebrows innocently. "They won't make new ones in time for her birthday. Where do you plan to store all of those toys? Your home is lovely, but it's not that large."

"Oh, you know Hermione." He waved his hand in the direction of the entryway. "She'll just do an Extension charm on Rose's nursery."

"And will Rose still fit into her nursery?"

Ron scowled at Molly. She had to admit, she was having a spot of fun at her youngest son's expense. Taking pity on him, Molly reached out and patted his arm.

"Hermione put you up to this, didn't she?" Ron demanded.

"Yes, I'm afraid she did."

"I suppose you think I'm mental to buy all that for one little baby."

Molly shrugged. "Of course not, but I confess that I don't know what got into you. You never needed some fancy toy wand when you were little, a good stick would do."

Keeping his eyes on his mug, Ron's entire face turned red. The truth of the matter dawned on Molly, causing her heart to stutter painfully in her chest. A nice stick, it would seem, had not been good enough. She reckoned that she was not really surprised. Of all her children, Ron had always been the most sensitive about the family's economic situation. After all, any toy, book, or garment passed through at least two brothers before it made its way into Ron's hands.

This was not the first time Molly had seen one of her sons overcompensate. Percy, who had always felt lost in the shuffle, lavished his daughters with love and attention—probably more than they wanted to be honest. Bill, who had grown up too fast with six younger siblings to look after and a war being fought around him, was keen to shelter his children from the crueler realities of the world. It appeared that Ron was trying to make up for his meager background by giving Rose all the things Arthur and Molly had ben too poor to give Ron.

"Ron… Ronnie," Molly started. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" he grunted.

For what indeed? Was she apologizing for not being able to buy him shiny new toys or a decent set of dress robes? It would have been nice to do that for Ron, or any of her children, when he was growing up. There were times when money just didn't stretch far enough, or she made a poor decision that affected her children. Goodness, Ron hadn't even had his own wand when he started Hogwarts. That Molly truly did regret, but otherwise there was always food on the table, clothes on their backs, and laughter to be shared. She had told herself that had more than made up for the lack of material things.

"For not giving you the childhood you wanted," Molly finally said.

"I had a great childhood," Ron said. "There were all those acres to run through, and trees to climb. Fred and George loved to play hide and seek for hours. Well, mostly I hid and they never seeked, but it was fun."

Molly furrowed her brow. "Then why…"

"Did I buy all those things for Rosie?" Ron shrugged. "All those toys… they were so colorful and shiny. Some of them talk to her, and others sing. They're supposed to help her develop problem solving skills, hand-eye coordination, shape recognition, magical competency… You know, when I was little I always wanted a-a kitchen set." His face flared bright red. "Don't tell George, yeah?"

Molly pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. "Of course not."

"Anyway, I could buy that for Rose you know."

"And what will she do with it? Has she ever seen one of her parents use a stove?"

"We cook, Mum! Hermione's not starving us—Well, she does, but only because she says no person needs more than one bacon sandwich."

Molly tsked. "Do you think all of those shiny things will really make Rose any happier?"

Shifting slightly, Ron opened his mouth to answer, only to be saved by the sound of babyish babble. Molly looked past her son's shoulder and smiled to see Hermione standing in the doorway with little Rose. The eleven-month-old was clad in fuzzy, footed, pink pajamas, wooly red hair like a halo around her head.

"Well, there she is," Molly cooed, reaching for the little girl who happily came to her granny and began playing with the silver locket Molly wore around her neck. "Shiny, isn't it, love? And so smooth, see? Would you like to see inside?" Molly opened the locket to show Rose the photo inside. "That's your Uncle Fred. Say 'hello, Uncle Fred.'"

"'Lo," babbled the baby and both of her parents gasped.

"Did she—" Ron stuttered.

"I think so—" Hermione whispered.

"Hello, Rose!" they chorused.

The baby looked over her shoulder at them only briefly, then back at the shiny oval in her hands. "'Lo!"

"Her first word!" Ron gushed. "And no ordinary 'mummy' or 'daddy' business, either. I told you she was a genius."

Hermione pouted a bit. "I think I would have like to hear 'mummy' actually."

"And you will, dear," Molly assured her, kissing the baby's cheek. She gave Ron a pointed look then, "Look how happy she is, Ronald, just being cuddled."

Hermione looked nervously from her mother-in-law to her husband. "Did you know that I had twenty-five Barbie Dolls and a Dream House when I was little? I would have traded all of it for a younger sister to play with."

Molly didn't know what a Barbie Doll was, but she understood Hermione's point. All the toys in the world couldn't make up for companionship. That was why, even when she was mending a hole in the same knee for the fifth time, Molly had never felt poor. She didn't regret the things she couldn't give Ron as a child, not truly, because what she had given him was worth so much more.

"Well, maybe we can return some of them," Ron conceded, slumping in his chair. "But can we keep the play kitchen?"

Hermione beamed. "Of course we can!"

"I'll do it tomorrow," Ron said, the tips of ears going red. "The money I get back I can donate to the Sirius Black War Orphans' Home."

"Oh, Ron!" Hermione squealed. She launched herself into her husband's arms, peppering his beet red face with kisses. "I think that is a brilliant idea!"

"Well, my work here is done," Molly said, with an indulgent smile. She stood and returned Rose to her father's arms. "I'll see you for Sunday dinner."

"Of course," Hermione said, her cheeks pink from her public display of affection. "And thank you for talking some sense into Ron. He's so hard headed."

"Oi!" Ron barked.

"Any time, dear," Molly said.

"I'll see you out," Ron muttered.

Walking with Molly to the door, Rose in his arms, Ron was looking a bit sheepish. Molly pulled her coat on, fixing the scarf Fleur had knitted her around her neck. Smiling fondly at her son, Molly patted his cheek.

"I reckon, sometime after your father and I had Percy, we had to decide which was more important to us: the ability to buy more things or a larger family. It wasn't easy, having seven children, but I wouldn't change it if I could."

"I'm sorry if I implied that I didn't have a good childhood," Ron said, looking at his shoes. "I mean, I could have done without Fred and George's pranks all the time, but it was… you know, pretty great."

"I know, dear. And Rose is very lucky to have you as a father."

"Cheers."

Molly pulled her youngest son into bone-crushing hug.

"Mum… Rose, you're going to mash her."

"Oh!" Molly pulled back. "Sorry, dear."

Opening the door, Ron waved his mother out into the gated neighborhood. The streetlamps were being lit, casting pools of golden light onto the sidewalks. There were snow flurries dancing in the whirling wind as Molly made it back to the gates. London was pretty like this, she supposed, but she would be glad to return to her snug country home.

Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think with a review!