A/n: I took some major writer's liberties and creative lisencing with this chapter, meaning that what happens in the flashback would probably never be able to happen….But I have always wondered how Ron knew how to get to Shell Cottage…

I wrote this one in three hours…hopefully it's not as bad as I think it might be.

Oh, and this one is way more detail-oriented than the last one. What can I say? I love detail.

And you will also notice that I updated in a little over a week. That's a miracle for me! Allelujah! But now on with the story!

The Tales of Weasley the Father
By dieselwriter

Chapter 2: The (Untold) Tale of Mothers

Having kids does strange things to people. Children can make their parents more responsible, more compassionate, and more cautious.

For Ron and Hermione, having children made them very different sleepers.

Hermione used to wake up in an instance if Ron rolled over or snored too loudly. But between two children and working at the Ministry, she had become a much heavier sleeper, so much so that the loudest of Ron's snores couldn't even penetrate her unconsciousness.

Ron used to wake up only if Hermione shook him awake or shouted at him. But when Hermione adapted her heavy sleeping, he had to adapt a much lighter sleeping habit, so much so that the smallest of cries from his children would rouse him awake and make him find the source of unhappiness.

And that was why Ron found himself awake early in the morning on a Sunday, listening to his children argue in whispers in the hallway, while Hermione slept on peacefully.

Ron sighed deeply and, realizing the argument wasn't going to get settled anytime soon, shuffled bleary-eyed to the doorway.

"How do you burn toast?" Rosie was whispering harshly to her brother.

Ron stood in front of the slightly cracked door, listening.

"Well, Dad usually makes the toast…I don't know how to work the toaster! It's a Muggle thing!" Hugo replied angrily, making what Ron thought was a valid point. He hadn't even known what a toaster was until he and Hermione got one as a wedding gift from one of her Muggle relatives.

"Why didn't you make more?" Rosie returned, still keeping her voice low.

"We were out of bread…what was I supposed to do? We could wake Dad and ask him to make more, maybe…."

"You can't make food; Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration says you can't."

"Well cheers for Gamp, but I didn't ask for a lecture, Miss Smarty Pants."

"I'm just saying that Dad can't make bread out of thin air—"

"And I'm saying that you don't need to shove a dead bloke's law under my nose, especially when you're the only one who knows it!"

"Well, actually," Ron interjected quietly, opening the door to look upon his children's astonished faces, "Mum taught me that one."

Ron smiled as his children continued to gape. Hugo was holding a breakfast tray laden with the aforementioned toast, eggs, and tea, while Rosie held a poorly wrapped parcel in one hand and a bouquet of dandelions in the other.

"Ah," Ron nodded as it dawned on him what day it was, "Mother's Day."

Rosie turned from surprise to anger in an instant. "Yeah, and Hugo ruined it. He burned the toast."

"Well, at least the toast won't make her sick," Hugo retorted. "Mum's allergic to dandelions."

"She's allergic to daffodils, not dandelions."

"She's allergic to daisies," Ron corrected, having learned that first-hand from a rather disastrous date many years ago. "But that doesn't matter; I'm sure she'll love what you guys are doing. All mothers love their kids no matter what. Why, I remember one time when I had a talk with your Grandmum…."

Both brother and sister looked at each other in alarm, before turning bright, smiling faces on their father.

"You are absolutely right, Dad," Hugo said, shoving his way around his father and into the room. "Mum's gonna love the idea of me cooking for her."

"And Mum will love the flowers, especially since she isn't allergic to them," Rosie said, also side-stepping around her father to enter the bedroom.

Ron watched in mild amusement as his children jumped on the bed and woke their mother.

It was better that Ron hadn't been able to tell his story anyway; it wasn't his proudest moment, and was probably better left untold.

Ron stood at the riverbank, feeling exhausted, lost, and alone.

He'd spent the night fighting with Hermione and Harry, running into and escaping from Snatchers, Splinching himself, and hiking for miles, trying to find their campsite.

And he finally found it, but too late; Harry and Hermione had already gone.

And now he had no idea what to do.

His first thought was the Burrow; to return home and make sure his family was okay. But he couldn't do that…he couldn't take the chance of Fred and George or, God forbid, Ginny finding out what he had done.

His next thought was Charlie, but he wasn't sure what Charlie was up to these days. He'd been helping out the Order abroad last time he heard, and Ron wasn't too keen to go on a cross-country search for his older brother. He might as well spend the time finding Harry and Hermione.

Bill was next, but again, Ron wasn't sure where he and his new bride were staying. Ron had overhead his oldest brother mention something about a cottage at the wedding, but he couldn't possibly Apparate to a cottage he couldn't find, especially since Bill was probably the Secret Keeper.

Some small, hopeful part of him thought of Percy for a split-second, before Ron scrapped the idea. Percy might understand his predicament, running off on the family and all, but again Ron had no idea where to find him, and he absolutely hated the idea of being compared to the betraying git in the first place.

Ron sat down on the ground as a heavy weight fell on his heart. He was the betraying git now; he was the Percy of their trio.

Something burned behind Ron's eyes as he realized that he was, for the first time in his life, completely and utterly alone.

But, he remembered, trying to find some hope in the situation, his mum always seemed to want Percy back…. Last Christmas, when he had come over, she had been so happy to think he was returning…. Maybe Ron could go back to the Burrow, if not to just find out where Charlie or Bill were staying at….

It was either that or sit where he was for the rest of his life, so he stood up and Apparated.

After landing and checking himself over to make sure he had done the magic without Splinching himself again, he slowly ventured to his childhood home. The house stood as he had always remembered it during the winter. There was merely a light dusting of snow on the ground which meant that, with any luck, Ginny had not returned for holiday yet.

He reached the front door and hesitated, realizing that he couldn't bring himself to knock, but didn't have the courage to open and enter. What if Ginny was home for Christmas, and he ran into her? She'd find out what happened and curse him into oblivion. She'd never forgive him, and then the rest of the family would find out and he would be disowned faster than Percy was and—

Ron's internal conflict was resolved as the front door was opened for him as his mother stood in front of him, a look of utter shock on her face.

Both mother and son stared at each other for a few moments before Ron, clearing his throat, squeaked out: "Hi, Mum."

His mother began to cry softly as she flung herself at him, hugging him tightly. And just as Ron was about to stammer again awkwardly, she pulled back and looked frantically behind him.

"What happened? Where are Harry and Hermione? Did you run into Snatchers? Did they take Harry and Hermione? Is that why you're hurt?" she shrieked, grabbing his hand and showing him his Splinched fingernails.

Ron couldn't stand this compassion; he didn't deserve it. His eyes started to burn again in shame as he looked down and away…anything so he didn't have to look at her loving face.

"I…I ran…I r-ran away," he stuttered, looking at his Splinched fingernails, but he was long past feeling the pain they caused. "And…and I ran into Snatchers, but I got away, but I Splinched myself again, but I tried to get back to them before they left, but…b-but…they left me."

Ron couldn't see anything anymore; his eyes screwed shut as tears fell unabashedly down his cheeks. He didn't even know why he bothered coming back home at all; his mother would disown him…he couldn't even stand to hear what she might say next. He turned to leave, before a strong hand grabbed his arm and turned him back around.

His mother brought him back in for another hug, and this time he cried on her shoulder, as she held him and comforted him.

"My son…my Ron," she consoled, rubbing his back, "you made a mistake…but you are the most compassionate and sensitive of all my children. Seeing you this upset shows me that. And I know that you would do anything to make things right with your friends. And I also know that you will be given that opportunity sooner than you might think. And you will do so admirably."

"But…but…what if I'm too late? What if they get caught? What if V-Volde—"

"NO!" she roared, causing Ron to look at her with wide, fearful eyes as his tears stopped flowing. He hadn't even realized what he was saying, and as such was quite unaware of nearly saying the name he so despised hearing from Harry and Hermione.

"Don't say his name! It's Taboo- jinxed," she amended, seeing the confused look on his face. "Saying the name breaks protective enchantments and causes a magical disturbance that the Death Eaters use to track down people. Harry and Hermione haven't been saying his name, have they?"

Ron finally understood why they had been discovered at Tottenham Court Road only a few minutes after escaping the wedding. And he also realized that, with Harry and Hermione on their own, there would be no one to stop them saying the name of the Dark Lord.

"They say it…I stop them from saying it…without me they're going to get caught," Ron whispered, looking at his mother for some form of consolation he knew she couldn't provide. "They're going to get killed."

"No, they're smart kids…I'm sure they can figure it out," she said, then moved inside the house. "Let's get out of the cold, dear; we'll get you settled in."

Ron shook his head sadly. "I can't stay here, Mum. Ginny's going to come home for holiday…I can't face her."

"I see," she nodded in understanding. "Well, you can stay with Bill!"

Ron lightened up, getting to information he could use. "Where is he staying?"

"Shell Cottage on the outskirts of Tinworth," she replied quickly. "Bill is Secret Keeper, of course."

Ron smiled as he took a step away from the front door. "Thanks Mum."

"You'll be sure to send me a message when you get there, telling me you're safe?" she asked desperately.

"I can't, Mum…what if it got intercepted?"

"You can Floo me, then."

Ron took another step away from his mother.

"All the Floos are being watched now, Mum. You know that."

"Have Bill come and tell me you're safe, then."

"Mum…."

"You will not leave me again, Ronald Weasley!" she shouted shrilly, as he took another step away. "You left before, but you will NOT LEAVE ME AGAIN!"

He knew it. He shouldn't have told her what he had done. He might have been initially relieved to tell someone, but now he knew that she knew too much. He had been selfish again; this was too big a burden for her to carry. She'd want to see him, and someone would find out, and then everyone would know. And if she let anything slip to anybody, all the Weasleys and Harry and Hermione would be in big trouble.

Well, Harry and Hermione would be in bigger trouble than Ron had left them in.

"You come back here RIGHT NOW!" she cried, the authority in her voice being lost to her tears.

He had seen it performed many times, and Hermione had practiced the spell with him over the summer. She had thought it could be of some importance during the coming months. And, as always, she had been right.

"RON!"

"Obliviate!"

He couldn't stand it anymore. His mother had fallen back into the house, and he ran away from her. The second he reached the edge of the magical wards protecting the old house, he Disapparated to the outskirts of Tinworth, to Shell Cottage.

"Mmm…" Hermione smacked her lips as she ate her burnt toast. "Delicious."

Hugo smiled with pride as Rosie bounced up and down on the bed next to him.

"Open your present, Mommy!" she shouted, holding it in her hands.

Hermione laughed as she stuffed the rest of the toast in her mouth and accepted the parcel.

"Sh'ank you, dear," she tried to say through her mouthful of toast.

"You're shmelcome," Rosie replied with a cheeky grin.

Hermione returned the grin as she slowly opened the parcel, taking care to not tear the paper.

"Mu-um!" Hugo groaned, now bouncing up and down like his sister. "You open too slow! Rip it open!"

"But that's a waste of paper!"

"MUM!"

"Oh, alright," Hermione gave up, ripping the paper. "Oh how lovely!"

Hermione held up the picture frame to Ron, so he could see the smiling faces of his family in the magical photo it held.

"This is lovely…thank you," she beamed, hugging Hugo and Rosie together.

"Ow, Mum, you're squishing my face!" Hugo said thickly.

"I can't breath!" Rosie gasped through her mother's pajama top.

Ron smiled as he stepped away from the doorway and climbed on top of the bed to join his family. He leaned forward, over his laughing children, to kiss Hermione on the forehead.

"Happy Mother's Day."

A/n: Well, this chapter was slightly longer than the last, but I hope you enjoyed it all the same. And I realize that this chapter might not be canon…at all. But isn't that what fanfiction's for? ;)

Thank you to all my new friends for reviewing, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as the last one. Please review again, so I can tell if you'd rather have more detail or more dialogue in the next chapter!

And cheers to all of you who figured out that Puckle was J.K.'s original last name for Hermione. Way to be nerdy like me! ;) (That's not an insult…being nerdy is way too fun!)

P.S.- HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!