A/n: Sorry it's been so long, guys, but I've been working on a few other projects, if my newest fic Indomitable is any proof. I've also just gotten finished with summer work, so now I can dedicate more time to writing! Hurray!

On with the next chapter!

The Tales of Weasley the Father
By dieselwriter

Chapter 6: The Tale of Practice

Ron loved his Sunday evenings.

Rosie and Hugo were playing chess on the kitchen table, Hermione was reading beside them, and Ron was busy trying not to burn their dinner.

Ron wasn't the best cook by far, but having Molly Weasley for a mother must have helped some. The kids at least didn't seem to mind his cooking nearly as much as, in the few times her services were required, Mrs. Puckle's.

He had just peeled the last of the potatoes when he heard something he hadn't heard in quite a while.

"Checkmate."

Rosie beamed in delight as Hermione looked over at their game in mild surprise. Hugo searched the chessboard in confusion. After a few frantic sweeps of the board, he realized what had happened.

Older sister had beaten younger brother.

Ron couldn't even remember the last time Rosie had beaten Hugo in chess. In fact, the only people who really gave Hugo a challenge most of the time were Ron himself and the one who had taught Ron chess: his brother Percy.

"Good game, Rosie," Hermione congratulated.

But Ron was concentrated on Hugo's reaction.

"Yeah," Hugo replied in a distant voice. His eyebrows were furrowed still but he smiled. "Good game."

"I was just lucky," Rosie said modestly.

"Nah, you did…really well," Hugo said, still in a far away tone. "I've gotta… go grab something real quick."

The disappointment was evident on his face as he exited the kitchen. The distant echoes of his footsteps on the stairs told Ron he was headed up to his room.

"He's mad at me," Rosie muttered, looking forlornly at the chessboard.

"He's not," Ron replied, ruffling her hair affectionately. "I'll be back."

And with that Ron followed the steps of his son, out of the kitchen, up the staircase and into his bedroom.

Hugo was sitting on his bed, frustration etched all over his face.

"Hey Hugo," Ron said, venturing into the room. "You okay?"

Hugo's hands were busy rifling through old Muggle chess books his Uncle Percy had bought him for his last birthday.

"Yeah Dad," he said distractedly, never raising his eyes from the books.

"What are you looking for?" Ron asked, sitting at the edge of his son's bed.

"Answers."

Ron rolled his eyes.

"For what?"

Hugo did look up this time for a brief moment.

"For why I lost."

Ron studied his son thoughtfully as he returned to roving through the books.

"Sometimes," Ron finally said as he leaned over and took one of the books from Hugo, "you can't find answers in books."

The resemblance to his mother was uncanny as Hugo looked scandalized at his father.

"Dad," he said in a tone that suggested he were trying to explain Quidditch to a dense Muggle child, "these guys are professional chess players. That is why they have books. If they don't have the answers, who does?"

"You know…" Ron started, a far-off look on his face as he remembered a similar conversation once before, "this reminds me—"

Hugo, who had been looking doubtful at his father, now looked highly apologetic.

"No- no Dad, I'm sorry….I believe you! Just please, no stories…."

"Ah, come on, you'll like this one!"

Hugo snorted in disbelief and looked even more doubtful as his father began his story.

This was going to be a disaster.

He coughed and waved the smoke away from his face. His eyes stung as he squinted through the smoke to find the window. The smoke alarm blared loudly as he finally reached and opened the window.

Who was he kidding? This was already a disaster.

Black smoke billowed out the window, cleaning the kitchen and finally allowing Ron a way to see the oven. He rushed over, opening the oven and grabbing the dish. He swore as he burned his fingers and dropped the burnt shepherd's pie back in the oven.

The doorbell rang just as Ron grabbed an oven mitt.

"Come in!" he shouted over the racket that was the smoke alarm.

Hermione entered the kitchen, dressed in a form-fitting black dress, as Ron finally pulled the dish from the oven.

"Oh, Ron, what have you done?" were her first words. Her next was a "Silencio!" aimed at the smoke alarm, effectively cutting it off mid-ring.

Ron turned the oven off before glaring at his girlfriend.

"I was trying to make dinner."

"I thought we were going out for dinner?" she asked in confusion.

"We always go out for dinner," he said in reply, taking out a knife in attempt to scrape off the burnt edges. "I wanted to try something different."

Hermione finally turned to look at Ron properly before bursting out into peals of laughter.

"Wha…wha-what are you wearing!" she asked amidst giggles.

Ron frowned as he placed the knife on the table in order to finger his apron affectionately.

"It's how it's done, isn't it?" he asked self-consciously.

Hermione nodded but continued giggling, her face flushed.

"Well," Ron said, flustered by her lack of response, "you…want tomato?"

Hermione could only nod again, as she still shook with silent laughter.

Ron picked the knife back up from the table and started slicing a tomato.

"I spent a whole week trying to make sure I'd get this right," he said as Hermione tried to get a hold of herself. "A week shadowing my Mum in the kitchen, and I burn the- shit!

Ron dropped the knife and sucked on his bleeding finger.

Hermione's giggles ended abruptly as she rushed to his side.

"Ron? Are you okay?"

Ron removed the finger out of his mouth and paled at what he saw. The tip of his finger had been sliced off clean, and he could see a bit of the bone through the wet, warm blood.

"Oh, here Ron; let me see it."

Ron gave his hand over after a brief moment's hesitation. It wasn't that he didn't trust his girlfriend; rather, past experiences gave him slight fear of her Healing capabilities.

"Wha-what're you going to do?" Ron asked as Hermione prodded his finger painfully.

"I've read lots of Healing books on this," she said as she eyed the wound carefully. "It shouldn't be too hard to fix—"

"You've read lots of Healing books?" Ron interrupted nervously. "Have you ever…you know…done it before?"

"Well, in theory, I should—"

"Theory!" Ron pulled his hand from Hermione's grip. "In theory you should have been able to fly a broom since you've read so much about it first year, but you were crap at it!"

"Ron, that was seven years ago!" she shouted, clearly stung.

"Well, how about the time I was Incarcerous-ed and you ripped my knee up just trying to free me, eh?"

"We had just been attacked by Death Eaters, hadn't we? I wasn't concentrating!"

"How do I know you're concentrating now?"

"Oh, don't be a baby, Ron. Let me see it."

Ron gave his hand back over to Hermione against his better judgment. Her brow knitted as she focused and waved her wand, muttering a spell Ron hadn't heard before.

He sincerely hoped he never heard it again.

"OUCH! Hermione!"

He wrenched his finger out of her grasp immediately as the spell caused the whole thing to sting agonizingly. It throbbed as he cradled it tenderly.

"Well sorry, but I had to disinfect it first!" Hermione replied defensively.

"Can you warn me next time then?" Ron muttered darkly as he gave his hand back reluctantly.

"Okay, this next one should feel like a needle's sewing the skin back on your finger."

Before Ron had the chance to object to this Hermione was muttering another spell. It didn't feel like a needle so much as another knife being stabbed into his finger.

"HERMIONE!"

Ron wrenched his hand away and blew on it as it started to burn as if it had caught fire.

"You haven't sewn it—you've skewered the bloody thing!"

"Skewered it? Oh, don't be so melodramatic Ron!" she shouted, trying to grab his hand back.

"No- NO more! Just conjure me a bandage…it's not bleeding that hard and I'm not having you play Healer on me anymore!"

Ron expected her to blow up after that remark, and he was therefore shocked when she instead took his hand gently, a flirtatious glint in her eye.

"Well, patient Weasley, I think this cut just needs a little T—" she kissed his finger- "L—" she kissed his hand- "C," she kissed the back of his wrist and looked into his eyes, passion burning through.

Ron, not anticipating this at all, paled considerably more and gulped, the pain in his finger forgotten.

"You- you think?"

She smiled seductively and wound her hands around his neck.

"I do."

Ron smiled himself now.

"The books teach you that, yeah?"

Hermione merely nodded and purred as she brought him in for a kiss.

"I like doing something different. You should cook more often."

Ron smiled like a dope as leaned in for another kiss.

Ron stopped abruptly as Hugo gave him a confused look.

"What's wrong, Dad?" he asked as his father's ears reddened quickly.

Ron averted his eyes, quite unwilling to share any private moments he had had with his wife in front of his son.

"This is!" he said, distracting Hugo as he stuck his finger under his nose.

Hugo smiled bemusedly as he stared at his father's finger.

"What am I supposed to be looking at?"

Ron rolled his eyes as he brought his finger even closer to his son's face.

"Don't you see it? She left a scar!"

Hugo narrowed his eyes as he finally spotted a miniscule scar.

"Dad, that's no worse than the ones on your arms."

"That's not the point!" Ron shouted, retracting his finger. "Do you know what is the point? My moral?"

Hugo frowned in disappointment at having to think through his father's story and how it pertained to his situation.

"Mom's no good at Healing."

"This is true, but it's not a moral."

Hugo's frown deepened as he thought a bit more.

"She's no good at Quidditch either?"

Ron sighed, realizing he was getting nowhere fast.

"And why is she no good at these things?"

"I dunno…she should've read a bit more about it I guess—"

"Nope!" Ron said, perhaps too loudly as Hugo shrunk away in confusion. "That's exactly where she went wrong!"

Hugo continued looking flabbergasted, and Ron smiled.

"Sometimes," he said, looking his son straight in the eye, "the only way you learn to do something is to do it. Your mum's great at Healing now that she's had plenty of practice working on you and your sister."

"And you don't burn the house down when you cook anymore," Hugo said with a cheeky grin on his face.

Ron gave him a grimace, but his eyes still held a smile.

"That's because Grandmum Weasley gave me another month's worth of lessons."

Hugo laughed and Ron smiled back at him.

"So you're saying the only way I'll get better at chess is if I practice more?" Hugo asked, a hopeful look in his eye.

"That's exactly what I'm—"

He was interrupted as the smoke alarm wailed loudly from downstairs.

"Oh bullocks," Ron muttered, realizing he had left dinner cooking.

Hugo laughed again as his father swiftly left the room and flew down the stairs.

"Forget something?" Hermione asked amusedly as he ran into the kitchen. She had just taken the dinner out of the oven as he rushed over to silence the alarm.

"Yeah, sorry about that."

Hugo followed after and Hermione and Rosie looked over cautiously at Ron. But Ron determinedly remained silent as he went back to dicing the potatoes, willing to at least salvage a part of his Sunday meal.

Hugo beamed at his sister as he sauntered to where she still sat at the kitchen table.

"Want a rematch?"

Rosie's eyes darted to her father before she returned a smile to her younger brother.

"Wouldn't see why you'd want one…it'll just be embarrassing for you when you lose again."

"You were just lucky last time…Dad's attempts at cooking distracted me."

"Hey!" Ron shouted indignantly, but this only caused his children to giggle as they set up the chessboard once more.

A/n: Well guys, here ends another chapter. I've already got my next chapter idea in mind, and I like where it's going, so with any luck I'll be able to get it up in about a week or so.

Thanks so much to my reviewers- I love you all!

-dieselwriter