A/N: Has it been five months already? Inconceivable!
This chapter. Oh…this chapter. I don't know if it's obvious by the subject matter, but I wanted to get this out last week. Certain schoolwork which shall not be named got in the way. But this is a chapter I could not be more proud of and one that I think you will all enjoy. It had four major overhauls before we got to this point, but I hope the effort is obvious and worth the extra week it took to get right.
That being said, this chapter is either insane or genius. It's super long (ridiculously so!), so grab the popcorn and settle down for a spell. Also mind the bad puns.
This chapter goes out to those readers who were kind enough to review the last chapter. You really made me remember why I enjoy writing this story so much and I appreciate the fact that you have stuck it out with me on this long journey. I present to you the next part of the path and hope you will continue on with me. I thank you sincerely.
Please forgive the sentimentality and enjoy:
The Tales of Weasley the Father
By dieselwriter
Chapter 29: The Seven Tales of Birthdays
"What's this?"
Ron stared dopily at the gift-wrapped box Harry deposited onto his lap.
"A present?" Harry's answer almost appeared nervous. "Is that okay?"
There were moments, and they happened quite often, where Harry would adopt a clueless expression when confronted with something unfamiliar involving the Wizarding World. But the puzzled look Harry was currently sporting was the one that came few and far between and had more to do with a fear that he was overstepping social boundaries.
Ron hid the scowl he reserved when faced with thoughts of those horrid Muggle relatives Harry was forced to live with and instead smiled broadly.
"Who's going to be upset over a present?" Ron laughed off the inquiry, shaking the small parcel curiously. "What is it?"
"A present!" he repeated emphatically, now certain that this gift giving was not only all right but appreciated. "It's supposed to be a surprise!"
"I hope it's Hermione's Potions' essay," Ron muttered, making Harry laugh. "I'm serious; it's my birthday and I didn't want to spend any second of it doing an assignment for Snape."
"I didn't think you'd want to spend it doing an assignment for any professor," Harry grinned and Ron shrugged his shoulders, not disagreeing, before digging into the wrapping.
"It better not be a puppy," Ron mock scolded. "McGonagall will be furious."
"Oh, you caught me," Harry held his hands up in defense. "I just assumed she'd take one look at its cute face and be unable to get rid of it."
"Harry," Ron threw him an exasperated glance before holding up the box of Chocolate Frogs. "This is not a puppy."
"Maybe next year," Harry couldn't even pretend to hide his gleeful smile for the sake of the running joke. "Now open it up and toss me one."
"And that's how I spent my first birthday at Hogwarts. And what a good birthday it was," Ron had a bit of a faraway look in his eye that even the raging thunderstorm outside couldn't shake. "Minus Harry's awkwardness. That kid thought I'd be offended if he sneezed the wrong way."
"How do you sneeze a wrong way?" Hugo crinkled his nose at the thought.
"It's a figure of speech," Ron crossed his arms superiorly, as if that were the final word.
"It's not," Rosie declared, peaking her head over the top of her book.
"I say it all the time!" Ron exclaimed, reaching forward to snatch the tome from his daughter.
"Hey!" she shouted, but Ron placed the book on his chair before reclaiming it, and the face she adopted made it clear she wouldn't want to touch that book again any time soon.
"It's my birthday and all I want is my children's attentions while I tell my stories," he said, feeling rather high and mighty indeed while sitting on top of the book.
"This should count for Father's Day too," Hugo mumbled. "This is practically torture."
Ron said nothing, but the glower he sent Hugo's way cowed the young boy into silence.
Both children were momentarily saved when their mother arrived in a flash of emerald green flames.
"Sorry I'm late," Hermione stepped out of the fireplace, stopping to look in concern at the pouting looks her children were sporting. "Ron, are you using your birthday as an excuse to bully our children?"
"No!" Ron protested, but the loud and resounding yeses from Rosie and Hugo overshadowed him.
"You'll have plenty of people to pester in…" she checked her watch and balked at the time. "Five minutes. Wow, I'm really running late!"
"You're only late for being early," Ron denied. "That just makes you like the rest of us: on time."
"Sorry we're late!" Percy appeared out of the fireplace just like his sister-in-law had moments earlier.
"No one's late!" Ron ran a hand through his hair in bewilderment. If it had been any one of his other siblings they would have considered showing up five minutes early to a birthday party as actually being early.
"Happy birthday, Ron!" Audrey appeared at her husband's side a moment later, unaware of her brother-in-law's distress.
The foul mood that had infected Ron's spirit practically melted under the warm, genuine smile Audrey gave him. She was the only relative he had that didn't give him a hard time, even when he deserved it, and for that he was grateful to her.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome. Is your mum in the kitchen?"
"Couldn't drag her away from it even if it caught fire."
"Shall I go help her then?" she turned to Percy.
"I'm sure it would be most appreciated," he kissed her cheek.
"I'll come with you," Hermione said, giving Percy a piercing stare that made Ron glance between the two of them curiously. "You should pull up a chair and get comfortable, Percy."
"An excellent suggestion!" Percy said pompously, taking a seat beside Hugo on the couch. "Come, Ron, tell us about one of your old birthdays. We'd love to hear it."
Hugo shook his head emphatically, aghast that his uncle had so easily forgotten the definitions of both we and love, but Percy threw his arm around his nephew's shoulder and brought him in for a squeeze that purposefully kept the boy from escaping or voicing his disapproval.
Ron eyed his brother shrewdly several moments after Hermione and Audrey had left the room, but when all Percy did was smile eagerly, Ron leaned back in his seat and began his second story.
The Chamber of Secrets had been opened, and Ron sincerely wanted to be an enemy of the heir at this moment. Because at this very moment, hanging out with the monster Hagrid may or may not have unleashed on the school was a far more appealing option than being where he currently was.
His eyes were beginning to cross and he shook his head, trying to keep himself awake long enough to finish his assignment. He reread the essay topic of the pop quiz he was supposed to be writing for the fifth time.
In no less than 2,000 words, summarize any one of Gilderoy Lockhart's books.
In 13 years worth of birthdays, this was by far the worst one yet. And that even took into account the time Fred and George had locked him in a closet for two hours on his eighth birthday.
"That was the most painful thing I've ever experienced," Ron complained loudly an hour later to Harry and Hermione as they left the classroom. He dropped his voice and added, "I'd rather confront Hagrid about opening the Chamber of Secrets than go through that again."
"Ron!" Hermione looked offended, although Ron wasn't sure if she was upset over his criticizing of her favorite professor or over treating the theory of Hagrid letting loose Slytherin's monster on the school so casually.
"I assume you had enough time to summarize his whole set of books, then, did you?"
"I had enough time to finish the assignment," she replied snippily.
"I think I have to agree with Ron on this one," Harry sighed, breaking up the fight before it could begin. "At least when Lockhart gave us that pop quiz on the first day of class you could've guessed an answer. Hard to fake a writing assignment."
"Please," Ron scoffed. "All you had to write was Gilderoy Lockhart saved everyone and is the greatest wizard of all time about 200 times and you're guaranteed perfect marks."
Hermione seemed torn between annoyance and amusement, but when Harry laughed aloud she gave in with a smile.
"At this point I just want to drown out the pain of that quiz with cake," Ron continued as they made their way down to the entrance hall.
They froze in place when the giant oak front doors opened, the distant sounds of a raucous party filtering in from behind an elated Professor Sprout.
"What on earth…" Hermione began, and the Herbology professor beamed at the three of them before rushing off up the steps they had just descended.
"Mandrake party in greenhouse three!" she shouted over her shoulder, positively thrilled at the news.
This made little sense of the trio but they didn't say anything to ruin her good mood.
"It's a sad day when the mandrakes are having a better time on my birthday than I am," Ron eventually broke the silence.
"Oh, come on, let's get that cake!" Hermione said brightly, linking her arm in Ron's and practically dragging him into the Great Hall, Harry following close behind.
Ron perked up as well when he was hailed over to the Gryffindor table by the frantic waving of Percy, Fred, George, and Ginny.
"So…your worst birthday at Hogwarts?" Percy asked, surprising in his attention to the story, sympathies, and knowledge of his youngest brother's hatred of examinations.
"Surprisingly not," Ron shrugged.
"There's just something special about a Weasley party," Bill said, not bothering to announce his presence formally.
"Save us!" Hugo squealed immediately, still partially smashed against his Uncle Percy.
"Sorry, kid, I'm only here to relieve Percy," Bill winked at his brother. "Your expertise is needed in the kitchen."
"Expertise?" Ron repeated doubtfully, but Percy was up and out of the room as if he was looking for an excuse to leave all along. Ron thus cast his suspicions upon the only brother remaining. "I didn't know you were coming."
"And miss out on all this?" Bill said smugly, obviously referring to Rosie with her nose stuck in a new book and Hugo who looked supremely jealous that Percy had been able to escape so easily. "Never."
"Where do you keep coming up with these?" Ron asked his daughter indignantly, snatching the new book from her and having it join the last one in acting as his seat cushion.
"I believe it's about that time for another story, isn't it?" Bill asked bemusedly, taking up the seat on the couch Percy had abandoned. "Hit me with your best shot, Birthday Boy."
"Nooo," Hugo moaned, but Bill ruffled his hair affectionately if not a bit roughly to shut him up.
Sirius Black was bearing down upon him with his 12-inch knife. It was a dream—Ron knew it was a dream, one he had been forced to suffer through for several nights now—and yet his heart rate increased dramatically when the murderer advanced and he found he couldn't move.
"You had too much to eat," Percy's disembodied and altogether unhelpful comment was muffled, as if he were just speaking from the other side of the hangings. "It's only a nightmare."
It didn't exactly matter, because Ron knew what was coming and there was little he could do to stop it from happening. The knife came down and Ron flinched awake in as unsettling a matter as possible.
"Stupid," Ron grumbled to himself, sitting up slowly. Ever since Black's break-in into Gryffindor Tower Ron hadn't gotten an uninterrupted night's sleep.
He opened his hangings, wanting a glass of water to calm his racing heart, and was startled enough at finding a person by his bedside to yelp out.
"Neville!" he whispered, shaking in barely suppressed terror. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Trevor won't stop croaking," Neville's eyes appeared especially bright with only the moonlight reflecting off them. "I'm surprised no one else has woken up to complain yet."
Ron just stared in bewilderment at his roommate, and then at the terrarium housing Trevor the Toad. The amphibian ignored the attention, doing his best in defying his master's excuse by remaining silent.
"You nearly gave me a heart attack," Ron sighed eventually, running a hand through his hair wearily.
"Sorry," Ron could see even through the dark the pink that crept across the boy's round cheeks.
Feeling bad, Ron shook his head.
"Nah, it's my fault. Just a little jumpy."
"Or maybe hopped up?"
Neville was smiling faintly through his blush and Ron shook his head in amusement at the bad pun.
"No frog jokes, Neville. Wart are you thinking?"
"Do they bug you?"
"They make me feel as though I'll croak any minute."
"That seems a lily extreme."
"Nice," Ron approved, nodding his head. "A tadpole-thetic—"
"Are you kidding me with that one?" Neville snorted. "Polethetic?"
Ron just shrugged.
"I'm just following your example."
"I hop no one heard that. Polethetic…."
"I'll quickly deny any involvement in this ribbiting conversation."
"I think Trevor actually likes it," Neville noted, looking inside the glass tank at his pet. The frog had not made a single noise since they had started talking.
"I have that effect on people," Ron gave a tired smile, foregoing the water to retreat back into bed. "And animals, apparently. Good night, Neville."
"Ron?"
Ron refrained from closing the curtains while Neville looked at everything in the dark room other than him.
"Neville?" the redhead urged him on.
"I'm sorry."
Ron waited for him to continue but he seemed too embarrassed to do so as he resolutely refused to make eye contact.
"For what?"
"You know…" Neville didn't look at him but still gestured towards him. It was then Ron realized that the hand he had holding onto the hangings was trembling slightly. "I'm sorry about all that."
"Don't even worry about it Neville; I don't," Ron said, not exactly fibbing. If the nightmares were the worst thing to come out of his encounter with Sirius Black, then he had a far better success than his other victims.
"I'm sorry it happened," Neville finally met his eyes for the briefest of seconds, and Ron could see the sincerity behind his words.
"It's okay," Ron replied, not really want to delve into this conversation further at this time of the morning. He went to close the hangings again but Neville interrupted him.
"And Ron?"
"Yes Neville?"
Neville met his eyes once more and smiled.
"Hoppy birthday."
Ron snorted, shaking his head before closing the curtains completely and lying back in bed.
"I've toad you before, no more frog puns. But thank you all the same."
"And here I thought these stories couldn't get any worse," Hugo was mumbling into a throw pillow forlornly. "I should have known better. Frog puns, I tell you…"
"I may have to agree with Hugo, Ron," Bill said with a straight face. "I said hit me with your best shot, and you give me a Neville story?"
"I don't recall being your trained monkey. If you think you can do better at entertaining, by all means."
Bill just shook his head at his youngest brother.
"I can't steal the birthday boy's thunder. Mum would have my hide."
"Uncle Ron!"
Ron rose from his chair in surprise when his nephew Albus came tumbling out of the fireplace, coughing on a mouthful of ash.
"Good to see you Al!" Ron smiled broadly, thinking that perhaps the last time he had seen the boy was at James' rather unfortunate Quidditch match at Hogwarts. "You know you're supposed to keep your mouth closed when Flooing, right?"
"Happy birthday!" the boy spat out, showing off his dirty teeth with a grin.
"Happy birthday!" his sister Lily echoed as she too appeared out of the fire, rushing forward without hesitation to hug her uncle around the waist.
"Thank you, thank you," Ron pulled Al forward to hug them together. "It's good to see you both!"
"We could say the same," Ginny was the next to arrive, looking pleased when Rosie and Hugo scrambled out of their spots to embrace her. "Hey, kiddos."
"What's a guy gotta do to get a welcome like that?" Bill frowned, but he could say little to disrupt the happy reunion.
"Can't you save us?" Hugo begged his aunt, eliciting a small smile from her.
"Wish I could, but I've got some errands to run before dinner."
"Aw," Ron pouted. "What kind of errands do you have to run on my birthday?"
"Ones involving your birthday present," she responded, rolling her eyes.
"Where do you need me?" Bill asked, rising to his feet.
"Right here."
Ron looked between his siblings analytically, that feeling of distrust rising up again.
"Is there anything I can help with?" he asked innocently enough.
"No!" both responded quickly, with a slight panic that Ron used to confirm his suspicions that they were up to something more diabolical than a gift.
"Fine then," Ron said haughtily, taking his seat once more. "I'll just sit here and get fat and useless then."
"Sounds good," Ginny waved him off before leaving the living room.
"Tell us a story, Uncle Ron!" Lily pleaded earnestly.
Any worry over his siblings' conniving ways vanished immediately. A fire grew in his eye that made Rose and Hugo leery of what was to come.
"A bit more exciting this time around, will you Ron?" Bill threw himself back onto the couch with a thump. He caught Hugo's eye and patted the seat next to him invitingly, making the small boy grimace.
"Oh sure, an exciting birthday story. Let's see…"
"No more cake; you're going to make me throw up."
"Nonsense!" Ginny claimed, placing another piece onto his plate. "It's your birthday and if the third task is anything like the second, it may be your last."
"Yeah right," Ron rolled his eyes at his sister's melodramatic tone. "Who invited this right little ray of sunshine to my party?"
"I think she invited herself," Harry said teasingly, earning him a jab on the arm by Ginny and a hearty guffaw from Ron.
"Ron?"
Ron turned, still laughing, to find an anxious Padma Patil before him.
"Padma? What are you doing here?"
"Visiting Parvati," she said, nodding her head to a table in the far corner of the common room. Parvati was occupying it along with Lavender Brown, and both were whispering in as gossipy a manner as Ron had ever seen. "She was telling me about your fight with the merpeople during the second task and I just had to hear it firsthand from you."
"Fight with the who?" Ginny asked too skeptically for Ron's taste.
Ron could practically hear his ears begin to sizzle, and there was no doubt that they were bright red. He really did feel like he was going to throw up, this time out of sheer mortification.
"Er," Ron glanced around at his friends and sister warily, trying to decide how best to handle the situation. He may have slowly been stretching the truth every time he retold his experiences from the second task less than a week ago. He also may have neglected to mention any of this to Harry, Hermione, and all of his family members. "Well, Hermione and I were told to report to McGonagall's office the night before the task. We entered and Dumbledore was in there…"
Padma was hanging onto every word as if there would be a quiz later, and a week ago Ron would have bet money he didn't have that she would never speak with him again, even if he were the last wizard on Earth. It was with this information that Ron ignored everyone in the near vicinity other than her and lost control of his tongue.
"And he was in the midst of fighting off like eight merpeople."
Harry, Hermione, and Ginny's jaws dropped as Parvati squealed in excitement.
"Whatever agreement Dumbledore had made with the Merchieftainess must have gone sour or something because they immediately jumped Hermione and me right as we opened the door. Hermione went down in about a minute, poor girl, but I've been sparring with my brothers most of my life, so beating 'em up really came as second nature to me. I mean, there was this one guy as big as Hagrid—ugliest bloke I've ever seen—and he got in a good jab with his spear, see—"
Ron rolled up his sleeve and showed off an inch-long scar on his forearm that he had actually acquired from a fall off a broomstick when he was 7. Padma looked at it, completely shocked, awed, and none the wiser of his blatant lie.
"—And I was able to take down at least a dozen of those mer-twits, but not even Dumbledore could stand up to them, so what chance did I really have? Doesn't mean I didn't try, of course; it did take ten or so to tie me up and drag me out. And after Harry came and untied me, I was able to get in a few good swings in revenge before we got out of there."
"That's amazing," Padma was still staring at his arm, clearly fascinated with every word. Ron pointedly ignored the less than impressed stares his friends and sister were aiming at him. "Really amazing!"
"Took the words right out of my mouth," Ginny muttered in a far different tone than the one the Ravenclaw was using.
"Thanks for telling me," Padma continued, either not hearing or not caring about what Ginny had to say.
"S'no problem," he said flippantly, giving her a cocksure grin.
"And, um, happy birthday," she finished, flushing prettily, before scampering off to join her sister once more. The second she reached the table all three girls burst into fits of giggles that made Ron's grin widen.
He attempted to wipe it off his face when he turned back to face his friends. Harry had the decency to speak at a volume that would not be overheard by the tittering trio spying on them from their corner table.
"That might have been the biggest fib I've ever heard in my life. And this is coming from the guy who had his aunt and uncle tell him his parents died in a car crash for 11 years."
"Oh come on!" Ron could feel his ears heating up again. "How could I possibly be compared to your horrid Muggle relatives?"
"All three of you are the worst liars I've ever met."
"You saw her face; pretty sure she thinks I lie just fine," Ron said, not quite believing that he would defend his boldfaced deceit.
"You can consider the fact that I didn't rat you out my birthday present," Ginny said, rising to leave.
"What? No, don't go Gin—"
"You are unbelievable," Hermione said, following right after Ginny.
Ron sighed, placing his chin in his hand to stare at his only remaining friend.
"You planning on leaving too?" Ron asked him.
Harry pursed his lips, deep in thought, before shaking his head stoically.
"Not while there's cake," he said, leaning forward to snatch up the piece meant for Ron.
"Wow."
Ron startled, not realizing Percy had reentered the room.
"When did you show up?" he asked his brother.
"Right around the time when the merman stabbed your arm," Percy said, staring at his brother as if he were an intriguing report on cauldron qualifications. "You are really inattentive sometimes, you know that?"
"And a colossal idiot," Bill said acerbically. "Sometimes I can't believe we're related."
"Like your ickle fourth year self never did anything stupid!" Ron said, sticking out his chin in defiance. "The fact of the matter is that I at least was able to learn from my mistakes!"
He leaned down beside him where Albus was sitting, transfixed by the conversation.
"And what I learned was to never lie to your mother or aunt's faces," Ron told him in a stage whisper
Al's face split into a wide grin.
"Another story, Uncle Ron!" Lily begged from her spot at Ron's other side.
"I might just go wandering around outside and pray I get struck by lightning," Hugo said, beating his head against the back of the couch.
"Preferably one where you're not a lying skink," Bill said, wrapping his arm around Hugo's shoulders so he was unable to follow through with the idea.
"An exciting, non-skink story."
"Birthday story!" Lily chirped.
"Exciting, non-skink birthday story," Ron amended, shaking his head. "You people are so fickle."
"What the hell is this?" Ron asked breathlessly, staring at the fluffy black creature that was dumped into his lap.
"Your birthday present!" George declared. "Try to look at least a little grateful, ya git."
The look Ron sent him made him change tactics.
"It was Harry's idea."
Ron stared, dumbfounded, at his best friend.
"What have I ever done to you to deserve this?"
"That," Harry started hotly, pointing an accusing finger at the niffler in Ron's lap, "was not, nor ever will be, my idea."
"Geez, Harry, way to hurt a niffler's feelings," George frowned, commiserating with the poor unwanted creature.
"Shall we paraphrase a conversation we shared approximately 10 months ago, Harry?" Fred stepped in, turning to his twin. "'Gee, Harry, why do you have mud all over your robes?'"
"'Oh, you know, Fred," George's voice rose at least three octaves in a sad imitation of Harry's voice, making the bespectacled boy scowl. "'We just got out of a Care of Magical Creature class.'"
"'Really! Well don't keep me in suspense, Harry! I'm just ever so eager to hear about it!'"
"'We learned all about nifflers! It was very educational.'"
"'Oh please tell me more about it, dearest Harry!'"
"'Well, each of my classmates was assigned a niffler, and we set them loose to search for golden coins!'"
"'That is very exciting to hear, Harry!'"
"'And since Ron's niffler collected the most coins, he was awarded a special prize!'"
"'Was it a niffler of his very own to keep?'"
"'If only! Ron's heart surely would have leapt with unadulterated joy if such were the case!'"
"I never said any of that!" Harry told Ron imploringly, practically begging for understanding. "I never did, I swear it, Ron!"
"I believe your exact words were, 'I have half a mind to give him a niffler for Christmas next year; I've never seen him so excited,'" George said, brow crinkling at the memory.
"It was either that or, 'I have half a mind to give him a niffler for Christmas next year just to shut him up,'" Fred said offhandedly.
"Never have those words crossed these lips," Harry solemnly swore.
Ron was distracted from the entire bedlam surrounding him when the niffler latched onto his wrist, going after his watch.
"McGonagall will never allow this!" he hissed, not bothering to stop the cuddly creature from destroying the timepiece.
"She hasn't complained so far," George shrugged. "Clancy's been hanging out in our room for over a month now."
"You named the niffler Clancy?" Ron asked, nonplussed.
"If we left the naming to you we'd be calling him Niffly," Fred retorted. "And that just sounds ridiculous."
"We won't ever forget the time you named your puffskein Puffy…" George sneered through the name.
"This whole situation is insane!" Ron cried out, lifting Clancy away from him as if he were diseased. "I can't keep him!"
"Not holding him like that, you can't," Fred stepped forward, pushing Clancy back onto Ron's lap. "He's just a pup, Ron. You need to cradle him."
"If this is the kind of presents you two hand out," Ron said faintly, praying more than anything that no one would burst into their dormitory to get them in trouble, "I think I'd rather you lock me in a closet again for two hours."
"We never did that!" Fred cried out, sounding scandalized. "Something as cruel as that has Charlie written all over it."
"Oh, it was you two, all right," Ron sighed, petting the top of Clancy's fluffy head half-heartedly. "I could hear your crowing about it on the other side of the door the entire time."
"Then I'll tell ya what, Ron," George said. "In a month it'll be our birthday and I know exactly what you can get us."
"A Bat Bogey Hex?"
"Clancy!" George said delightedly, ignoring Ron's sarcasm. "And we'd be certain to thank you for the gift and not have this pessimistic attitude that you're currently sporting."
All four boys froze when the dormitory door opened and Hermione entered.
"Happy birthday, Ron!" she approached them, a sunny smile on her face. "Celebrating already?"
"Actually, we were just leaving," Fred said hastily, knowing full-well what kind of attitude Prefect Hermione would have regarding Clancy the Niffler. "Happy birthday Ronnie!"
"It was nice knowing you!" George called out over his shoulder as he chased after his twin, scrambling out of the room.
"Well that was strange," Hermione said, a dubious gleam in her eye. "I wonder what's gotten into…"
She was finally close enough to spot Clancy in Ron's arms and blanched.
"What in the world is that?!"
"Clancy," Ron mumbled, a bit unsure as to how this whole conundrum had started in the first place.
"But what are you doing with it?"
Ron bit his lip in apprehension, eyes darting to his best friend.
"It was Harry's idea."
"I completely forgot about that."
Ron's mind blanked for a moment when he found that his brother George had replaced Bill on the couch beside Hugo.
"Where did Bill go?"
"He got up like halfway through," George said, rolling his eyes. "How you became an Auror with observational skills like that I'll never know."
"But why'd he leave? He was the one begging for a good story."
"Is that what you call that?" George asked doubtfully. "I mean I know it had me in it, but that was honestly the only highlight to that tale."
"I liked it!" Lily beamed. "I want a niffler!"
"Trust me when I say you don't," Ron told her as kindly as he could. "I had to hang on to Clancy for the rest of the day and he nearly destroyed all of Hogwarts."
"Can I even ask why we're in here?" George glanced out the window to take in the torrential thunderstorm beating against the pane. "Weather's not bad enough out there to warrant staying in here and getting tortured with one of Ron's old stories."
"Oh yes, very funny," Ron did not like the sudden abuse he was faced with and disliked it even less when his children laughed.
"It was a great story!" Al spoke up, but was mostly drowned out by Ron's loan celebratory cheer and the groanings of George, Rosie, and Hugo.
"Seriously, Al," Hugo told his cousin, "let's switch families for like a week. You'll be singing a different tune by the end of it."
Albus flushed, and Ron pursed his lips in silent frustration. He barely got to hang out with the kid as it was, and Ron didn't want their time together sullied by Hugo's bad attitude.
"George?" Molly Weasley appeared at the doorway of the living room, looking particularly flustered with her hair in disarray. She spotted her son on the couch and smiled at him. "I thought I heard your voice. Ginny's requesting your assistance."
"More birthday errands?" Ron's eyebrow rose, interest piqued once more in the goings on of his siblings.
"Either that or someone's in need of a good practical joke," George said, kissing his mother on the cheek in greeting before leaving the room altogether.
"Charlie and his friend haven't popped in yet, have they?" Molly asked Percy.
"I'm afraid not."
"Hang on, I didn't know Charlie was coming," the mischievous glint in Ron's eyes could not be read as anything other than evil delight. "And a friend, eh? Who is it? I hope it's Monica again; she was a nutter."
"Now don't start with that attitude," his mother admonished above the laughter of the four children in the room. "Lynn seems like a very nice girl."
But the way his mother kept her eyes on Percy rather than him let Ron know immediately that something about Lynn wasn't quite as nice as she was letting on.
"I'll be on my best behavior," Ron swore, but his serious demeanor cracked in an instant. "I shouldn't have hoped for Monica anyway; after what Fred and James did to her, I doubt she'd ever show up again."
Molly Weasley didn't seem exceptionally pleased by the reminder.
"Monica was carted off to the Spell Damage ward at St. Mungo's thanks to you lot," a gruff voice was the only warning the living room occupants received before Charlie appeared behind his mother, his face screwed up as if trapped in a painful memory.
"Charlie!" Molly jumped before turning around to embrace her second-oldest son. "I didn't even hear you come in!"
"My silent Apparitions are a very enviable skill," Charlie still appeared sullen. "People lose body parts when they pop in and out of dragon dens."
Ron's jaw dropped when a wickedly grinning Charlie waved at him with a right hand that was missing half an index finger. Everything above the knuckle was gone.
"Holy—" Ron bit his lip to silence himself when Charlie pointed his stub of a finger at him in warning.
"But where's Lynn?" Molly had to crane her neck to look her son in the eye.
"Couldn't make it, I'm afraid," he didn't appear too upset over the fact when an egg timer went off. He sniffed the air in anticipation. "Do I smell cake?"
"Oh dear!" was all that Molly got out before she dashed away.
"Sounds like dinner's nearly ready," Charlie strolled into the living room as if he owned the place. When each of his nieces and nephews scrambled to their feet to fawn over his missing appendage, Ron realized he at least owned the attentions of it.
"What happened to your finger?" Lily's asked in a frightened whisper.
"Did a dragon eat it?" Hugo demanded an answer.
"Was it cursed off by an evil warlock?" Rosie wondered.
"Or Monica?" Al jumped in.
"No, no, you pesky bodies, I'll have none of that line of questioning so close to dinner," Charlie ruffled four sets of heads before moving on to the couch. "It's not a story that'll whet your appetite, if you know what I mean."
"Honestly, Charlie," Percy sniffed from his armchair. "Do you even know the definition of subtlety?"
"I'm a big boy, Percy," Charlie waved off the question with his four and a half fingered hand. "I leave the subtlety to blokes like you."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Percy asked heatedly, but Ron cleared his throat loudly to dispel any growing argument.
"You really can't tell us what happened?" Ron asked Charlie.
"No, it's your birthday," Charlie replied matter-of-factly. "You're the one who gets to tell the stories today."
"Well, with an invitation like that, how can I refuse?"
Rosie and Hugo's faces dropped when Ron started in on his sixth birthday story.
There was one second, hardly more than a heartbeat, in which Ron realized that something was terribly wrong.
Scratch that. There had been an entire morning in which Ron had realized that many things were terribly wrong. In that one second it took Ron to succumb to the effects of a fatal dose of poison well hidden in a shot of oak-matured mead he ticked off the top three reasons, in no particular order, in his head.
One: Lavender Brown was his girlfriend.
Two: Romilda Vane had been his infatuation less than a minute ago.
Three: Hermione Granger was not speaking to him.
Whoever came up with the idea of one's life flashing through their minds in the instant before death was an idiot. Ron would be the first to attest to the fact that the only thing to flash in his mind was the enormous mistakes he had committed within the last year. Dating Lavender Brown. Eating those love potion-laced Chocolate Cauldrons. Fighting with Hermione.
The fact that each reason involved women did not evade him. In the process of dying or not, Ron had three obvious problems of the female persuasion.
And as he attempted to rise out of his chair, in order to do what exactly he wasn't sure, his top three reasons were replaced by one glaringly obvious problem.
He couldn't breathe.
"—and may you have many more—"
Yeah, he doubted that. If the poison didn't kill him the irony might.
"Ron!"
His legs couldn't support him and his body hit the floor. He had no control over the erratic jerking of his arms and legs and if his mind hadn't retreated into hysterics he would also recognize the fact that his eyes were open but blind.
Worst of all still: he couldn't breathe.
With minimal pride he used the few faculties left at his disposal to listen to the sounds of what sounded like a beached beluga. With absolutely no pride he recognized the fact that those noises were coming from him.
It took a long time to die. Certainly this final minute of being 17 lasted as long as the last 16 years of his life.
And the very last thing he felt before what he considered his untimely death overtook him was his mouth being wrenched open and something large and hard being forced down his throat. Why someone felt the need to feed him at this point he doubted he'd ever learn.
Then his body gave up the fight to stay conscious and he remembered nothing else of his 17th birthday.
"So…what, best birthday ever?"
Ron's deadpan face made all four children in the room laugh.
"I won't even dignify that with a response," he told Charlie insolently. His consternation was displaced by confusion when he realized Percy had up and left at some point during the story. "Do I need to bother asking where Percy went off to?"
"Birthday errands," Charlie said with an innocent shrug.
"Dinner's ready!" Molly called from the kitchen.
"It's a miracle!" Hugo exclaimed, waiting for no further invitation than that to race out of the room.
Ron's annoyed expression remained as he was herded out of the room by Charlie. It vanished the moment he entered the kitchen behind his brother.
"Where is everybody?"
Because aside from his mum, Audrey, Charlie, and the kids, the kitchen was noticeably absent of Weasleys.
"I'm sure they'll be here any minute," Molly answered, but the hesitation in her voice did not bolster Ron's confidence.
She wasn't lying, however, for less than 30 seconds later the backdoor opened and a near army of soaking wet Weasleys paraded into the kitchen. Their damp clothes and demeanor read defeat.
"What's all this then?" Ron demanded, not entirely sure why he felt anger and uncertainty rising in equal proportion in his blood.
No one seemed to want to confess as all averted his stare. The resounding silence made the small kitchen feel exceptionally tense.
"Hermione?" Ron spotted his wife at the end of the line, looking especially guilty.
"Why doesn't everyone start on dinner while I talk to Ron," Hermione said, lifting her head bravely.
"No, Hermione, it was my idea," Ginny spoke up, looking as though she regretted the words already. "I'll explain it all."
"Technically it was my idea," Arthur said.
"I honestly don't care whose idea it was," Ron stated slowly, mindful of the fact that there were children present and an explosion from him might upset them. "I'd just like to know what it was."
"Harry's on assignment," Percy blurted out.
"Percy," George hissed.
"Well he's not here and Ron's gonna notice eventually!" Percy defended himself.
"Actually, he's been exceptionally bad at noticing people's absences tonight," Bill said. "He might never have noticed."
"What's Harry got to do with this?" Ron interrupted, still feeling like he was being intentionally kept in the dark.
"He was supposed to come tonight and he was supposed to apologize and you were supposed to be friends again!" Ginny exclaimed heatedly, her earlier regret consumed by bitterness for her husband.
A flash of lightening lit up the kitchen after the pronouncement, and Ron's brain suddenly flicked on again. The reason behind his siblings running in and out of the house all day was that they were all out looking high and low for Harry in order to drag him to the party. Considering the vast number of disappointed faces in the kitchen, Ron couldn't believe their plan had failed.
The sticky silence was broken by the clash of thunder that followed a moment after Ron's revelation.
"Well I, er, appreciate all of your involvements in my personal business," Ron started, not really sure how he felt toward any member of his family at this point. The burning of his ears led him to believe that one of the emotions he currently possessed was either rage or chagrin. "But maybe we should just sit down for dinner and forget about all this for now."
"A better plan has never been proposed," George was quick to say. Angelina elbowed him in the sternum.
"Seriously, let's eat," Ron shook his head, taking a seat at the table. "Come on!"
His family members scrambled around, and Ron bit his lip, knowing how close he had been to snapping at them. He really wished they'd all quit being so awkward about this.
It was when they were all finally set at the table that Ron suddenly felt far less hungry than he had just minutes ago. He catalogued his last 25 birthdays and realized immediately what was conspicuously missing today.
"Actually," Ron trailed off, glaring at the rolls at the center of the table. "I think I'm going to go for a walk."
"Ron—"
"Just a quick one," Ron continued, not even knowing who had called his name. "I need to work up an appetite. You guys start without me."
"It's pouring rain out there!" his mother blustered but Ron headed straight out the backdoor anyway, not making eye contact with anyone.
"This sucks," George said as soon as the door slammed shut.
"George, watch your language," his father reprimanded.
"Probably the word I would've used to describe the situation," Charlie said.
"I'll go talk to him," Hermione said, placing her napkin on her empty plate. "Please start; I'd hate for the food to get cold."
Hermione followed after Ron, ignoring the squabbling that continued behind her. She only made it three squelching steps on the lawn before she spotted him leaning up against the side of the Burrow.
"Can I get a new vote for least favorite birthday?" he asked her as she approached. "Normally I'd give my vote to sixth year poisoning, but at least you and Harry were there for it, even if I really, you know," he pointed to his head in an offhanded gesture, "wasn't."
Hermione didn't respond right away, instead taking her time to sidle up beside him.
"I could put a little something in your drink tonight," she said eventually, when the distant rumblings of thunder died down momentarily. "Make it feel more like old times?"
"It'd make things more interesting, I guess."
"Lethal even."
Ron gave a lopsided smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"I didn't mean to ruin the mood," Ron told her. "I'm a prat."
"We love you anyway."
"Well thanks for that," Ron said, pushing himself off the house. "Good pep talk, Hermione."
"What? I say we love you and you take offense to it?"
"With that sarcasm?" he placed his hand on the top of his wife's very wet head. "Yes."
"You find your appetite yet?" she asked, removing the hand on her head to hold it in both of hers. "You've got a worried family waiting for you."
"Yeah, I mean, when am I ever not hungry?"
"Ron."
Ron watched as a droplet of water traced its way from Hermione's hairline down the side of her face. He didn't have to see her though to recognize the disapproving tone she used exclusively when he dodged serious questions with humorous yet self-deprecating half-answers.
"Harry really makes it difficult to be his best friend sometimes."
"This I know. Believe me when I say, I know."
Ron's brow crinkled, searching her face.
"That sounded like a loaded response."
"Perhaps because there's a story behind it," she said coyly.
"So…" Hermione let the conjunction hang in the air a moment, so that Harry was forced to look at her. He did so eventually, looking bored with the talk already. "It's Ron's birthday."
He blinked sluggishly at her.
"So…?" Harry copied her tone, unmoved by the information.
"So I think, maybe, we should do something for him."
"Did you have something specific in mind, or were you planning on being as vague as this conversation?"
"Nothing specific," she replied hastily, flushing slightly. "But I had hoped we might discuss it."
"Well I don't really want to discuss it," Harry said, a bit too nastily. "We're in the middle of nowhere, there's nothing we can do to celebrate, you'll just get mad at him over something dumb and it'll ruin what little we'd be able to string together. So I'd really rather just not bother with anything."
"Harry!" Hermione felt shocked at hearing the words coming out of his mouth.
"Hermione!" he echoed in exasperation. "I'm tired of you dancing around the subject. Either forgive him or yell at him."
"I'm not going to yell at him on his birthday!" she hissed.
"You don't have to treat him special just because it's his birthday. He's still the same guy who abandoned us."
"Harry!"
He winced, but Hermione knew it wasn't from regret over what he had said. She knew what was about to come next.
"I'm going for a walk," he said shortly, taking no time to even grab his wand from the table before leaving the tent.
Hermione watched him leave, fuming silently. She wasn't sure if he sought solitude whenever one of his headaches came along because he wanted to hide from her and Ron how painful the experience was or else indulge in them. Where she would have reprimanded herself for the thought before, she wouldn't put it past this current, listless, and infuriating Harry to do such things.
"Look what I found!" Ron entered the tent a moment later, a false grin on his face. No doubt he too had noticed Harry's departure. "Berries! I have no idea if they're poisonous or not, but I have a good feeling about them. You mind taking a look?"
He held out the pail for her to inspect.
"Ron, those are blueberries."
"Well that's what I thought the last time and then I was sick for a week!" he said, hauling the pail over to the sink to wash them off. "So I was thinking that tonight or tomorrow we should head farther north. There's this small magical resort in Tirana that I wanted to check out. I don't know if You-Know-Who takes vacations, but if he did that'd be where he'd go."
Hermione didn't respond right away. Her mind was still stuck on the awful things Harry had said and not for the first time she cursed the visit with Xenophilius Lovegood that occurred several weeks ago.
"Hermione? Anyone home?" Ron called to her. "You okay?"
"Yes, I'm sorry, Tirana sounds fine," she said, coming back to herself. "Let's plan on it for tomorrow."
"You don't want to head out tonight?" he asked her nervously. "I saw that look on Harry's face; best to keep him moving whenever he gets into one of those moods."
"It'll be dangerous with wizards around," Hermione reasoned, biting her lip, "and I'd rather you spend a birthday alive and well."
Ron looked as though he had just been Stunned by her.
"It's my birthday?" he asked, utterly clueless.
"If you still celebrate it on March 1st," she nodded. "Didn't you know?"
"You are very good at keeping a calendar out here," Ron turned back to his berries with a smile. "I can't remember what day of the week it is, and here you are keeping track of birthdays."
"Well happy birthday, at any rate," she sighed. "Sorry Harry's being such a prat for it."
"You get used to these sorts of things," Ron shrugged, walking over to her with his pail. "You mind double-checking these berries though? I don't want a repeat performance of last year's birthday."
Hermione laughed, reaching into the pail to pick out a blueberry and pop it into her mouth.
"Tastes all right to me," she replied, teeth stained with juice.
"Thank God," Ron said, taking out a handful of blueberries for himself. "I know they say another year older, another year wiser, but it feels like nothing could be further from the truth. I know you guys keep hoping for the wisdom, but I'm pretty sure my 11-year-old self could kick this 18-year-old's arse right now."
Hermione laughed, both at the comment and at the extreme amount of berries he shoveled into his mouth a moment later.
"I think you and your 11-year-old self would get along swimmingly."
"Hmm," Ron hummed through his full mouth. He swallowed before speaking. "At the very least I'd be able to beat him in chess."
"Well look at you," she said proudly.
Ron frowned at the approving look she was giving him.
"What?"
"You didn't talk with your mouth full."
"You hate it when I do that," he said accusingly.
"And who says you're not getting wiser?" she responded smugly.
"Not wiser, just more well-mannered."
Hermione's giggle bubbled out of her, and once she started she found it difficult to stop. They spent the next hour together, making each other laugh and sharing the pail of berries.
In spite of all the things she hoped the three of them would accomplish—destroying the Horcruxes, defeating Voldemort, and saving the Wizarding World—she still wished that this time next year would be much the same as now. She could think of no better way to spend Ron's birthday than in his company.
Ron sighed a world-weary sigh, flinching a moment later when lightening arced above their heads.
"Geez, Harry was such a grouch back then," he muttered. "I nearly forgot."
"He's doing a good impression of his 17-year-old self this year," Hermione said, a surly expression that would have looked more at home on Argus Filch's face. "We are going to have words."
"Get in line with the rest of the family," Ron laughed shortly. "I'm starting to feel sorry for him."
"Don't," Hermione gave him a stink eye and Ron shut his trap. "He made his bed and he'll need to lie in it eventually. He can only procrastinate with Auror assignments for so long."
The thunder came seconds later, giving an even more ominous tone to the threat.
"And on that cheery note," Ron leaned forward to kiss her forehead, "Perhaps we'd better get this birthday show on the road."
"I love you," she said simply, hugging him tight.
"I love you, too," he placed his chin on the top of her head and grinned. "Now let's get inside before my insanely large and meddlesome family eats all my birthday cake."
A/N: So seven tales later… I'm not sure I have any fingers left to type with. At this point it just feels like I have little nubbies banging uselessly against the keyboard. Because seriously. Seven. Tales! Never has such an undertaking been attempted! Probably for good reason: this chapter is more than twice as long as my shortest chapter.
I hope you lot aren't too upset with our dear Boy Who Lived. There are plans in the works for Mr. Potter. Such plans! I shall only make mention of them so you can feel confident, both in my ability to update and in Harry's ability to make amends. Because, let's be honest, who doesn't appreciate the concept of Harry owing Ron an apology for a change?
And with that mammoth chapter out of the way, I hope you will be as patient as you have been thus far and hold strong until we meet up again. Keep me on your radar, cause I'm not going anywhere anytime soon.
~dieselwriter