After 13 years of friendship, Harry swore blind, that he knew all Ron's quirks and idiosyncrasies. For example:
- Ron's stomach was like a Swiss clockwork
- he's just coasting along in his paperwork
- never voluntarily
- and always at the last minute.
Therefore, Harry was quite astonished, when he found Ron behind a stack of files, moreover, during his lunch time, thumbing through any documents.
Shaking his head, he took one look at his wristwatch, then knocked on the wall of the cubicle and cried cheerfully: "Come on, mate, drop everything, today is pancake day in the cafeteria."
"No time….", grumbled Ron, without looking up, "I'm busy."
"Who are you and what have you done with my friend?", Harry quipped, but even that coaxed no response from his friend. He glanced longingly towards the elevator and for one or two minutes, he struggled with himself, whether he should indulge his beloved pancakes, or to keep his grumpy friend company - and besides with an empty stomach.
With a deep sigh, he entered the office cubicle (the things we do for our friends), pulled out his wand from an inside pocket of his robes and levitates the documents of the visitor's chair to an empty space next to the desk. Without being asked, he plopped down on the now unoccupied chair and picked up one of the files from the stack: "Investigation files?" He read the name of the Death Eater and frowned: "I thought, that case is closed?" – His friend nodded and waved absently: "It is!" – Harry made a sweeping gesture: "Those are all closed cases?"
"Yup!" Ron glanced up and gave him a tired and also knowing smile: "And before you ask…" – Harry shut his mouth. – "I deal with these only for research purposes."
"Fuck, our boss saddled you for this?" Harry asked incredulously, and bit back the words: 'How, the hell, you've earned this detention'.
His friend circled his shoulder, until a loud crack was heard: "Nah, I do this at my own request."
"Really?" Stunned, Harry stared at him: "But why should you do something like that?".
"I told you already, for research." Ron replied and turned back to his file.
"Mystery-monger!", Harry growled and placed the file back onto the stack. Suddenly his eye fell upon an upturned picture frame. He leaned forward and lifted the photography up. Shaking his head, he wiped the glass with his shirt sleeves, before he set the photo frame in its original place.
Looking up, he met the Ron's narrowed eyes and pointed to the frame: "Must have fallen over!"
Wordlessly, Ron grabbed the picture of his wife and banished it in his desk drawer.
Inwardly sighing, Harry tipped his chair back on two legs and folded his hands behind his head. Thoughtfully, he studied his friend from his mussed hair, scruffy beard, crumpled shirt (Merlin – the shirt lacked two buttons! Honestly mate, you are one of the most capable aurors, but unable, to use household spells?!) – up to the shiny object on the ring finger of the right hand. He chuckled (down but not out, after all, the prat still wears his wedding ring – and the photo frame does not end up in the trash).
The redhead shot him a suspicious look: "What?"
Harry could not resist: "You look like shit!"
Ron rubbed his face, whereby his beard created a scraping noise: "Mate, I tell you, it's no fun, to spend the nights in the flat of a bachelor. Card-playing, and party until late in the night is not my cup of tea.." He shut the file cover forcefully.
Harry raised an eyebrow and Ron smiled wryly: "Not since my Auror-Training." He yawned widely and added: "And the worst of all is Seamus couch. I swear that thing has no springs.". For a moment he looked thoughtfully into the distance, until he opened the next file.
"You know, there's a simple solution to your problem."
Ron lifted his head: "Huh?"
Harry leaned forward and the chair slammed back to the floor: "Go home, talk to your wife and work it out. " - Ron's face closed: "I cannot - at least not yet!" – "Then talk to me! " – His brother-in-law hesitated. – "Come on! You told me once, that's not healthy, to bottle up problems."
With a long-suffering sigh, his friend leaned back in his chair and raised his arms in a gesture of surrender: "All right, I'll talk to you, but not here…" he grimaced "where the walls have ears."
"Tonight at The Burrow?"
Ron gave him "You-think-I'm-tired-of-life"-look and grumbled: "I prefer to stay away, until the dust has calmed."
"Tell me just when and where and I'll be there." replied Harry like a shot.
Ron looked thoughtfully into space: "Mmm, I spend the weekend in Hogsmeade, so we can meet…" – "Do not say in Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop", Harry winked, "you know, my wife is very jealous and skillfully with her wand." – "Ha, ha, very funny, Potter! I thought more of a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks."
"Fine with me! Shall we say tomorrow around 21.00 o'clock?"
Ron nodded and repeated: "21.00 o'clock sounds good."
Harry stood up and glanced at his mate meaningful: "And Ron.."
Questioningly, Ron lifted his eyebrow: "What now?"
"Hopefully, freshly shaved."
Ron batted his eyes and grinned mischievously: "Because of me, you don't need to bother, love."
"I meant you, you moron!"
"Why should I get rid of my beard?"
"Because with this scrub you look… like Hagrid!"
The redhead stroked his beard: "So what? Because of his beard, Madame Maxime fell in love with him." He bent forward and whispered conspiratorially: "You know, mate, it is a fact, that women love bearded men. I swear, Brunhilda winked at me."
"Canteen-Brunhilda, the iron maiden?" – Ron grinned and nodded. – "The one, with the mustache? Well then, have fun with her. It's your life." Harry shrugged his shoulders.
"Damn right!"
"Yeah, Potter, leave the poor man alone!" cried a voice from outside. Harry made a rude gesture towards the adjacent cubicle, while Ron smirked: "See, even Patterson is on my side."
"I don't care, what Patterson's thinks, but have you thought of your mother? I bet, she will not be thrilled." Harry dared to doubt.
Which was probably the wrong thing to say, the playfulness faded from Ron's eyes.
"Once for all, Harry, the beard stays!", he said through gritted teeth and slammed his fist on the table.
Harry turned around, to leave the cubicle without a word.
"Wait, Harry." Harry stopped and looked over his shoulder at Ron.
Sheepishly, his friend rubbed his neck: "Sorry about my, uh, outburst. I'm currently a little tense."
Harry grinned: "You think?"
"Git!
"Dunderhead!"
"Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"Please don't tell mum and Ginny of my overnight stay in Hogsmeade, a night without Howler would be heavenly."
Harry saluted: "Your wish is my command!"
"So, this is your chance to confront him!" Harry finished satisfied. Disappointingly, showed his friend no reaction, on the contrary, she continued with her work, as if he had said nothing.
Harry snapped his fingers: "Earth to Hermione!" – Hermione glanced up from her papers and looked pointedly at his fingers. – Embarrassed, he dropped his hand: "Sorry!"
Sighing, she laid her papers aside and folded her hands: "Harry, why are you here?"
He tugged at his earlobe: "Uh, to tell you that your husband.."
"Spent his weekend in the Three Broomsticks." She completed emotionless. "I heard you the first time – you know, I'm not deaf."
"No, but I would have expected a different reaction, not…."
"So indifferent?" She offered in a tired voice.
He looked her straight in the eye: "Just coldly."
Her eyes darkened: "Listen, Harry, I am really grateful for your efforts, but on my account Ronald Weasley can stay, where the pepper grows. That bastard…." – Harry looked at her stunned, that word out of her mouth. – "left me, and not just once, no,…" She held two fingers up.
Uncomfortably, he shifted on the chair back and forth: "Twice, I know, but…" An arching of her eyebrow, caused Harry to quickly silence himself.
"Exactly, twice, which is one time too many, especially as he promised to never do it again." Hermione's eyes sparkled with suppressed rage, "And this time he did not carry a locket."
"Maybe, if you talk to him..."
"For the last time, I'm not interested in a meeting with him."
"Is that your last word?"
Hermione takes a deep breath and closed her eyes: "Harry James Potter.."
Harry lifted his hands in defense: "Already understood."
Hermione drummed her fingers impatiently on the table.
"And I'm already gone, bye!" He jumped up from his chair and rushed out of the office.
Ron nodded to Madam Rosmerta, who raised her hand in greeting, and let his searching glance glide around the room. As usual, at this time, the inn was crowded. Just as he was about to turn to the bar, his eyes met with the brown eyes of his wife.
Satisfied Hermione watched how her husband's eyes widened shocked. Her hand twitched and she clutched with both hands her glass butter beer, to resist the temptation, to hex him to Timbuktu.
After Ron was over the initial shock, he counted silently to 10, to keep his fury at bay. "Potter, you'll pay for this!", he muttered under his breath and walked over to his wife.
"I suppose, Harry does not come!" He said through gritted teeth.
"Well spotted, Sherlock." She mocked and looked at him expectantly.
Although Ron did not know, who this Sherlock was, he rather bite his tongue off, then express his ignorance.
"And, aren't you going to sit down?" She nodded her head towards the empty chair.
His jaw flexed, as he stared down at her.
She raised her eyebrow and asked smugly: "Afraid, that I make you a scene?"
He stuffed his hands in his trouser pocket and gripped with his right hand the object, that has brought his world crashing down: "I think, it would be in YOUR interest, if we go somewhere else, Mrs. Undersecretary."
She narrowed her eyes and hissed: "I will not go in the Seamus den of iniquity."
"Since the so-called den of iniquity is also not my 1st choice, I suggest my room here at the Three Broomsticks." - Hermione looked uncertainly and Ron cannot resist a spitefully "Afraid?".
Without further hesitation, she rose from her chair: "Which room?"
Hermione sat down on the window ledge and glanced around. Her husbands dearly beloved broom lay on the bed, in contrast to the travel bag, which had obviously been thrown carelessly on the floor. On the table stood used dishes and a pitcher. It was all so typical Ron, tears welled up in her eyes and she pressed her lips tightly together. No crying.
Ron, who stood in the middle of the room, cleared his throat and pointed to the pitcher: "Would you like another glass of butterbeer?"
She turned her head and looked down the moon illuminated Hogsmeade. Due to the warm late-summer night and day of the week, several revelers bustled through the narrow alleys.
Ron's whispered "This probably means no!" was barely audible.
She lifted her eyes and watched him through the reflection in the glass. He ran his hand through his much too long hair and their eyes met in the glass.
"Do you have nothing to say?", Under other circumstances she would have been shocked by her cold, emotionless voice, however, in the current situation. she felt only pride and satisfaction.
Ron's face darkened and he snarled: "Should I not ask this?"
She turned around to face him and narrowed her eyes: "Excuse me?"
"You heard…"
"I heard you, Weasley..." She interrupted him angry and rose to her feet, "but I don't understand what you're saying!". She approached him slowly, until she stood an arms length away from him. He stared down at her (damn him!). To punctuate her words, Hermione poked him with her index finger in his strong chest: "You" – poke – "left" – poke – "me" – poke – "Mister" – poke – "not" – poke – "I" – poke – "you!"
Ron caught and enclosed her finger with his hand: "Stop that!"
Enraged, Hermione tried to free her finger from his firm grip – unfortunately without success: "If you do not immediately let go of my finger, then…", she warned him and glanced up at him.
He raised his eyebrow and asked, amused: "Then what? You attack me with a flock of canaries?"
She smirked sweetly: "No, then I do that." And kicked him with full force against his shin.
Cursing, he opened his hand and let go of her finger.
"Not her punch bag, violent..", were just some of the words, which could Hermione pick out from his rant.
"It's all your own fault, I warned you!" And be glad, that my knee ended not in your private parts, she added in thought.
Moaning, he stooped and rubbed his leg.
"Don't make such a fuss, that was not even a proper kick!"
Her husband pulled up his trouser leg, so that a red stain was visible, and shot her a venomous look.
She rolled her eyes: "Don't be a baby, it's just a bruise!" She hated it, when he got injured and bruised on his missions – and now she did it to him, and the worst of it, it felt good, in fact very good.
Shaking his head, Ron stood up and dropped his trouser leg. Mumbled to himself, he gazed up at the ceiling, before facing her again. "Listen, Hermione, let's act like grown ups and not like, uh, immature teenagers. Do you think, we can do that?"
Thoughtfully, she chewed on her lower lip, a habit of early childhood. Suddenly she noticed, how Ron's eyes lingered on her lips. Instead of being flattered, this caused a surge of emotions: outrage (the nerve of that guy) and fury (this is hardly appropriate in this situation). And maybe a little triumph.
She pressed her lips into a thin line and clicked her tongue as a sign of disapproval. Caught red-handed, her husband glanced hastily aside.
10 points for Hermione, 0 for Ronald, for a moment she enjoyed her small victory, but then abruptly her triumph burst like a soap bubble. Damn, he's right, we behave like teenagers. She sighed and muttered: "Okay, let's talk like adults, calm and reasonable!"
He stared at her with a mixture of relief and astonishment (because she agreed with him?), and mumbled: "That sounds good, but without outbreaks of violence."
She decided to ignore this last remark and asked stiffly: "Is it okay, if I sat down?"
"Be my guest."
Seemingly relaxed, he leaned against the wall, his muscular arms crossed over his chest, while Hermione sat down on the chair at the table.
For a while it was, except for Hermione's fingers tapping on the table, quiet in the room, until both began to speak at the same time.
"Look, Hermione.." – "Why did…" Both stopped and waited for a moment, before they dared a new attempt. "I want.." – "I don't.." Hermione rubbed her forehead in frustration. Although her husband looked irritated, he stayed calm and nodded to her: "Go ahead!"
"Why did you tell me nothing of the incident with this young Death Eater?"
Ron opened his mouth, but apparently he could not find the right words, and so he closed his mouth and simply shrugged his shoulders, as if to say, does not matter.
"And why my mother knew about this? Can you imagine, how I felt, when she told me about your sleep disorders? Apparently it does not count, that I'm your wife – a wife, who expects, that her husband told her himself from his problems, and not experience it through third parties."
Astonishingly, her husband listened her ranting in silence, of course with the result, that she slowly but surely lost her temper: "Was this incident the reason, why you played Tarzan and Jane with Luna in the jungle?". She pushed the warning voice of her mother out of her mind and attacked him again: "I mean, this behavior from you is very familiar to me." – Yes! Finally, a reaction, the vein on his forehead swelled noticeably (Good!!).
Suddenly flashed another terrible thought in her mind: "You told her, right." His stony silence only confirmed her suspicion. She smacked her forehead: "Now everything fell into place. Luna, our kind hearted friend, felt sorry for you. This is why she invited you as a travel companion on this…" To emphasize her next words, she made an air quote: "adventurous trip." Now blind with fury, she screwed her lips mockingly, it was time for the ultimate low blow: "I must say, her courage deserves my respect. Scientifically speaking, you're finally a blank slate and not the sharpest tool in the shed."
His body language, from his flushed face (at least the part, which was not covered by his beard), lowered eyebrows to his flared nostrils, speaks volumes: That hit home. "
And calm and reasonable flew out the window.
"Are you finished?", he growled in a deep voice.
"Don't worry, I have just one question for you. When did you get the feeling, that I constrict your freedom, before or during your trip?"
"That's bullshit", Ron hissed.
"Oh, yeah? Then why did you leave me?"
He glared at her.
"I thought so." She shook her head in disbelief: "And I, stupid cow, racked my brain with the question, what I could have said or done. "
He pushed himself away from the door: "You want a reason? Here is why!" He fumbled in his pants pocket, pulled something out and shouted: "Catch!" Surprisingly, she caught it with one hand. She turned her gaze from Ron to the object in her hand: "A cufflink?"
"Exactly a cufflink, or more accurately, my cufflink."
If she knew one thing, then that: "You wear no cufflinks." She glanced up.
Her husband snorted: "Certainly not with this Monogram. For aught I know, is my name still Ron and not Don!"
"Monogram?" She turned the cufflink and indeed, the front was embellished with a squiggle 'DW'.
She wrinkled her forehead confused and mused to herself: "DW?"
Ron looked her straight in the eye and repeated slowly: "Exactly, D..", he paused, "W!"
She laid the cufflink on the table and waved: "I don't understand, what this.."
He raised his hand and interrupted her question: "Now we come to the interesting part our story. Thanks to the friendly Swedish hotel staff, I received a package with this cufflink. Apparently they found it, after your departure in your room in Stockholm. By the way, I got the package on my first day in our cozy home after my..", he grinned maliciously and also used the air quote, "adventurous trip with Luna."
Stockholm?! Hermione felt, as if someone pulled the rug out from under her feet. She fought with the lump in her throat and repeated hoarsely: "Stockholm?"
"Funny, do not you think?". He laughed without humor. "I have never been in Stockholm, unlike you and this mysterious DW, whereby both of us know, who is behind these initials, namely..", he paused for a moment and Hermione closed her eyes, to avoid seeing his face, when he dropped the bomb, "David Whitaker!" David Whitaker.
Her heart slammed against her ribcage, as the blood rushed in her ears, while her mind raced with possible attempted explanation.
"Embarrassing, isn't it?!" Her husband snorted derisively: "The brightest witch of her age, was so stupid..", hee slapped his palm to his forehead, "so stupid, to check into hotel as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley."
Tears pricked in Hermione's eyes and she wrapped her arms around herself. He was right, how could she be so stupid: "I know, the facts speak a different image, but…"
He interrupted her: "Actually, I agree with you."
Hermione stared at him and stammered: "W..what?"
"The facts speak for themselves. You were with another man in a hotel room, who pretended to be your husband."
"Let me explain." She begged him shakily.
"I think, it's better, if you leave now. " He pointed to the table. "And don't forget the corpus delicti. David will be grateful, when he gets back his missing cufflink."
"I don't go, before you have listened to me." She wiped with the back of the hand the tears from her eyes: "There was and is nothing between me and David."
"Bloody hell, Hermione, are you really expecting, that I believe you?"
"Have I ever lied to you?" She looked at him, strong and unblinking – although with tearful eyes.
He rubbed his eyes and muttered: "Once is always a first time!". – Hermione held her breath in anticipation of his decision. – "But go ahead, I'm curious, how you talk you out of this thing."
With trembling hands, Hermione twisted her wedding ring around her finger, while her eyes followed her pacing husband.
She cleared her throat and Ron stopped, to face her: "What?"
"Could you please sit down?" she asked him hoarsely.
When her husband remained standing stubborn, she added softly: "Please."
He sighed and lowered himself on the edge of the bed.
Timid, she scooted her chair closer to the bed. Besides, a raised eyebrow, he showed no reaction to this action.
Here goes, Hermione. She shut her eyes for a brief moment and croaked: "It's.." She cleared her throat again and grimaced: "Sorry, lump in my throat." – Sighing, he asked: "Would you like a glass of water?" – She shook her head and began again: "It is true, David Whitaker was in my hotel room."
Before Ron could react, she crouched down beside him. "He stood suddenly with a bottle of champagne in front of my hotel door." Gently, she placed her trembling hands on his knees and looked at him intensely. "I swear, I did not even know, that he was also in Stockholm. And I hear it today for the first time, that he has pretended to be my husband."
After a long-suffering sigh, she continued: "He wanted to congratulate me for my speech and celebrate a little, and although I was tired, I did not want to appear rude and let him in." She waited a few seconds, as Ron did not say anything, she carries on: "To rid of him, I took a sip of the champagne, but instead of going, he insisted on a toast and to clink glasses. After the third or fourth toast the bottle was finally empty, and I guided him to the door…. ", she bit her lip, "where he kissed me."
Ron's eyes burning with a mix of disappointment, hurt and pain.
She added quickly: "And I pushed him away from me and I swear, nothing else happened."
He exhaled audibly a long deep breath: "Forgive my simple-mindedness, but in which world is snogging between a married woman and her work colleague nothing – determined not in the wizarding world."
"It has been just a kiss!"
"JUST a kiss?" He cried out.
"YES, only a kiss, initiated by him!" She yelled back.
Breathing heavily, he was silent for a moment, before he continued with a surprisingly calm voice: "Okay, let's assume, it was just a kiss – "Nothing else!", she assured him hastily – He narrowed his eyes: "The crucial question is, however, how long."
She gave him a confused look.
"Well, did you push him away immediately or…?"
"I… I was frozen" she stuttered.
"Come one, Hermione, tell me, how long it took…"
She glanced to the side and whispered in a low voice: "Not immediately".
Ron shoved Hermione's hands from his knees and jumped up from the bed. His voice was cold, when he said: "Like I said, the facts speak for themselves!"
Hermione rose from her kneeling position and tried to grab his hands, but he withdrew these from her: "Please, Ron, hear me out."
He clenched his teeth and continued to look straight ahead: "I've heard enough, don't you think!"
She stamped her foot, while she impatiently wiped another tear from her face: "You're as stubborn as a mule."
His reply came promptly: "Well, then it's good, that the mule is not longer your burden!"
She froze: "What do you mean?"
He shrugged his shoulders: "I dunno. Maybe we should…"
Her legs felt like jelly and she slumped back on the bed: "Get divorced?"
He rubbed his forehead in a tired motion and murmured: "Do you have a better suggestion?"
Suddenly it was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. Hermione looked shocked at her husband: "Only because of this, you want to end our marriage?"
"That was just the drop in the ocean, we had a bunch of problems before your…", he paused, "tête-à-tête in Stockholm."
She clenched her fists: "You know, what I think, you're looking for a reason, to break out of our marriage."
He gave her an icy glare: "Excuse me! You cheated…."
Hermione interrupted him furiously: "I don't cheat on you. I feel nothing for David, I love only you!" And added through gritted teeth: "But I'm starting to wonder, if you still love me?"
"Don't be ridiculous" He pinched the bridge of his nose and mumbled: "It would be much easier, if it were not so."
She covered her mouth, to stifle a sob of relief, unfortunately without success.
"You can save your crocodile tears!" he grumbled harshly and glanced away, "The milk milk has been spilled!"
But Hermione could not stop crying, partly out of anger about herself, but for the most part, for the possibility, that he loved her in spite of everything.
Ron blew out a cheek and stared at her: "Shit!" Hesitantly, he joined her on the bed and patted her shoulder soothingly: "Shhh, Shhh, don't cry."
"I – hic –I d – hic – don't – hic – cry!" she hiccupped and sniffled simultaneously.
Sighing, he conjured with his wand a handkerchief, with which he brushed away her tears. After that, he held the cloth to her nose and demanded: "Blow!" Without hesitation, she blew into it. Finally, he wiped her nose with the now-damp handkerchief, with the result, that her already scratchy-sounding voice was muffled: "I…th…..ue…"
"Huh?" He crumpled the handkerchief, threw it towards the trash cans and faced her with a frown.
She blinked rapidly, to clear her blurred vision, and drew a deep, shuddering breath: "It's really true that you love me, despite everything?"
His body stiffened and she could literally feel, how he withdrew from her: "And if, that would change nothing." When he tried to get up from the edge of the bed, Hermione held him by the sleeve: "Oh yes, that changes everything. Because if you still love me," She lifted her chin: "I will fight for our marriage." Her husband looked down at her hand, which was clutching his arm. "Hopefully, with you by my side!", she added with a soft and pleading voice.
As expected, one step out of the fireplace sufficed, to be under the influence of his mother, who was really piss.., um, disgruntled.
With hands on her hips, she gave him the once-over: "Well, well, the prodigal son gives us the honor of his presence!"
Inwardly sighing, the so-called prodigal son wiped some residual ash from his shoulders and greeted her in a calm tone: "I wish you also a good day, Mum, nice weather today, don't you think."
Her eyes flashed: "Roland Bilius Weasley, I'm not interested in a pleasant chat with you."
(That would also be something completely new!). He pushed the bitter thoughts aside and asked ostensibly cheerfully: "Before or after dinner?"
His mother looked at him confused: "What?"
"You know…" He lowered his voice "the mother-son-talk. I would prefer after eating…", he winked and patted his belly, "you know, an army marches on its stomach."
"There is no reason to be so cheeky, young man. I have just received an owl from your wife." She wiped with the corner of her apron a tear from her eye, before she sniffling continued: "The poor girl is not coming, again."
He feigned surprise: "She don't?"
"And this time, with the excuse, that she drowns in work."
"Perhaps she really…" – "Nonsense!", Molly waved off his objection, "this is just a flimsy excuse. Obviously she doesn't want to face you – which is understandable under the circumstances."
All the guilt-ridden son, he lowered his head and braced himself for his mother's inevitable tirade, which followed immediately: "What is wrong with you!"
Obviously, this was a purely hypothetical question and it followed an enumeration of all his faults:
"Look at you, your hair screaming for a haircut and not to mention of your beard, did you not have a mirror?"
The scolding seemed endless and so did Ron, what he always did in such a situation, he let his mother nag, while he thought about other things, such as the Canon team's formation.
"Who take unpaid leave to go on a journey with an unmarried"
'As beater Jimmy Peakes would be my first choice..'
"Shameful…"
'we simply lack a player like…'
"Where all can see it"
'Galvin Gudgeon or Harry!" He chuckled, which was apparently a huge mistake.
Promptly, his mother gave him a slap on the arm and yelled: "Do you think, that is funny?"
Because of his experience, he thought, it was better to be silent.
She narrowed her eyes and asked in a dangerously low voice: "Have you been listening to me at all?"
Clearing his throat, he nodded affirmatively: "Course!" (Shit, shit').
"Don't dare, to lie to your mother!"
From the next room heard Ron a fit of laughter, it goes without saying, his brother George found the tongue-lashing clearly entertaining.
A swear word on the tip of his tongue, he reached for his wand. But before he could pronounce the spell, his mother uttered an exasperated "Harrumph".
"Only a tiny anti-eavesdropper-spell!?" He looked at her pleadingly.
His mother sighed.
"Oh, mum, come on.", He whined. "the walls have quite literally ears. I promise, after that, you have my full attention." – His mother pursed her lips and murmured: "Don't promise anything, that you cannot keep." – "And we can speak absolutely undisturbed." Thank Merlin, his mother nodded her consent.
Once the room was protected from unbidden eavesdroppers, in particular from George, Ron twirled his wand through the air, caught it skillfully and blew away the nonexistent smoke - observed by his confused mother. He rubbed his neck sheepishly: "A Muggle thing I've seen in a movie.
"Ronald Weasley, if you mean, you can distract me with your childish behavior, you're badly mistaken." She breathed heavily and hissed: "Are you, at all, aware, how many wizards and witches subscribed the magazine?"
"Wait, Mum, first of all, from which magazine we're talking about?"
She gave him another slap on the arm and scolded: "Definitely not about your precious magazin 'Seeker Weekly'!"
He rolled his eyes: "But…?"
"Witch Weekly!"
Bloody hell, Witch Weekly?
"Well, Ronald!" Tap.
He winced by a well-known sound.
"Do you have anything to say?" Tap.
I hate it, when she does that.
Tap.
I bet, she does this on purpose, this pesky foot tapping.
Tap.
He pondered frantically, what she wanted from him. An admission of guilt? But for what?
Tap.
She knew herself, that the editors of this tabloid only publish gossip and other crap. Or?
Tap
Face it, Ron, you have given up a long time ago, to understand your mother and her thoughts.
Tap.
Suddenly, he remembered the life motto of his late brother Fred: if you go down already, then go down swinging. And an idea struck him.
Tap.
"How many witches read this gossip, um, popular magazine? Let me think, mmh." He scratched his head with his wand and began slowly zu count: "There would be Ginny, Fleur, Angie…" – He smiled at his mother: "I guess, round about two dozen." – Speechless, his mother stared at him. – He wiggled his hand: "Plus/minus two!"
"The whole wizarding world is laughing about our family and you, you….", she stuttered in outrage.
He laughed and shook his head: "Come on, Mum, the whole wizarding world? That's a little over the top, don't you think?"
"Roland Bilius, although you may be an adult, you're not too old, to be punished." Before he knew, what was happening, his mother held her wand threateningly in her hand.
In his haste, to escape the curse of his mother, Ron jumped backwards and nearly tripped over the table – and dropped with this clumsy retreat maneuver his wand.
With one blow, Ron turned serious, and he raised both hands in defense: "Woa, mum, calm down!" –
Breathing heavily, she lowered her wand a little. – "Why do you think, everyone is laughing about us?"
"How can you ask?" Her voice trembled with suppressed rage. "They saw the scandalous nude photo of you!"
"What!", Ron cried in an embarrassing high-pitched voice and glanced around the room, "Where is that rag!"
His mother flicked her wand and within a very short time floated the said magazine into the room. Ron snatched the gossip rag and hastily flipped the pages: "Harry Potter father of three illegitimate children, blah blah blah, I see here…" Bloody hell, in the middle of the magazine, a double-sided tear sheet photo of him. He felt himself blush.
"Well?"
Ron, flushed to the roots, glanced up and grinned sheepishly: "Uh, this is indeed a little embarrassing."
"A little embarrassing?!", repeated his mother in disbelief.
He turned the magazine and examined his photo: "It could have been worse, look, you cannot see my…" – "Ronald!" – "private body parts."
"That's all, what you have to say?"
Ron, still engrossed in the image, shook his head.
"Where did they get the picture?", she demanded to know.
Ron dropped the magazine and frowned in thought "I don't know. Definitely not from Luna!"
Molly gasped and put a hand on her heart : "Luna took photos, while you were bathing, and at that, naked!"
He closed the magazine and stuffed it in his back pocket: "Usually you bathe naked." As his mother angrily lifted her wand, he hurried to say: "But don't worry, I was alone – well not quite alone – in the lake. Luna, mind you, a fully dressed Luna just wanted a shot of the mermaid."
"A mermaid? I did not see any mermaid in the photo."
"No wonder, this creature is very shy."
"Don't try to make fun of your old mother!"
He sighed: "There was a mermaid and, you can believe me, Luna was more keen at this creature, as an my…."
"Ronald!" He raised his hand in apology.
"So you have no affair with Luna!"
Ron's jaw dropped: "Excuse me?"
"You cannot blame me for my suspicions." She defended herself.
Stunned, he looked at her: "Mum, what makes you think, no, scratch that." He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, trying to relax, unfortunately without success.: "Apparently, you think, I'm able to do such a thing, however, Luna loves her fiance and would never ever cheat on him."
"Then why did you leave your wife?", his mother demanded.
"That's none of your damn business!", he hissed angrily.
The consequence of his big mouth, he received, of course, immediately. His mother flicked her wand in his direction and shouted: "Lev-ee-COR-pus!"
While dangling upside down by his ankles, he fumbled cursing for his wand. Crap, which was somewhere on the living room floor. An amazing auror, you're. With a sigh, he folded his arms over his chest, now he had to rely on the mercy of his mother. Maybe he should flatter her a little….
"That's no way to speak to your mother, young man. I thought, we had raised you better!"
Or rather not.
Before his mother could start with a new tirade, she was stopped by a loud throat clearing. Ron peered toward the door, which was a bit difficult from his current location.
"Mum?" Thank Merlin, he sighed in relief, only Bill.
His mother turned around, to face Ron's brother.
"Fleur needs your help in the kitchen, I think, there is a problem with the stove." When Bill was astonished at Ron's situation, so he was hiding it well.
His mother's voice lost the harsh undertone and she muttered softly: "Bill, be a sweetheart, and get your father…."
"I think, the roast lamb is a little burned." Bill added casually. Oddly enough, Ron could not smell anything, as he sniffed.
His mother's eyes widened panic-stricken. "I'm not finished with you, Mister, so doesn't budge, till I get back!" She said, or rather, she threatened him, and disappeared through the door.
Instead of leaving the room with his mum, Bill sat down on the arm of the couch and crossed his arms over his chest. "Let me guess, swear words.", he noted with a smirk.
Ron's sigh alone confirmed Bill's suspicion, however, his misdemeanor apparently are not only limited to the violation against the most sacred of all the Burrow-Rules, because he admitted: "Among other things." Bill came several possible misdeeds in mind.
The 'wrongdoer' turned his – due to his unfavorable posture – bright red head around, undoubtedly, on the lookout for his wand. Observed from its big brother, who was curious to see, how Ron would get out of his awkward position. After all, he did not often have the opportunity, to experience an Auror in action.
Ron's facial expression showed signs of deep concentration, his eyes were closed and his tongue…. Bill could not suppress a snicker.
Immediately, his brother jerking his eyes open and asked with a slight annoyed undertone: "What?"
"It's just, the thing with the tongue…" – Ron frowned. – "Victoire does that too, when she focuses on something."
"What do you mean?"
"She slides, like you, her tongue between the lips." Demonstratively, Bill slid his tongue between his lips.
"I don't do such a thing!" Ron vigorously disagreed. Bill was sure, at least now, he would blush (if the color of his face would not already resemble an over-ripe tomatoes) - from anger or embarrassment, or probably from both.
Bill shrugged his shoulders and smiled: "It's kind of cute"
"I'm not cute.", Ron muttered under his breath and closed his eyes again. He inhaled deeply through his nose, held his breath for a moment, before he exhaled through the mouth. Just when Bill wondered, if it was a special breathing technique, the tongue of his brother slid again between his lips.
As Bill slightly coughed, Ron grumbled: "Shut up, Bill."
Then everything happened very quickly, Ron's wand flew into his outstretched hand and an eye blink later, he stood upright again – figuratively speaking. Right now, his upper body was bent slightly forward and his arms resting on the thighs. Understandable, after hanging upside down.
"Did you learn this breathing technique during your Auror training." Bill asked curiously.
Ron lifted his eyes and grinned: "Nope. That was just for show."
Bill admitted: "Yon doesn't need show elements, to impress me. I gotta say, your non-veral and wandless spells are worth seeing."
Ron straightened up and waved off the praise: "Nay, that was nothing. In the recent years Harry mastered this skill, like no other. I'm just his apt pupil."
"Yet! Don't forget, unlike Harry, you joined the aurors-corps not immediately. He's got a pretty good head start, but he should already prepare himself, for a rough ride to the very top." He winked: "I think, I just witnessed a Head in the making."
"Be careful what you say, Harry is my best friend!" glared Ron, but the edge of his mouth tilted upwards.
"And like a brother to me, but that does not stop me, to put my galleons on my baby brother."
Ron snorted: "Since you're the only one."
"Nah, Fleur is a firm believer, that you will achieve something great."
"Something great, huh" Ron repeated and rubbed his neck sheepishly – Bill nodded: "You know, that my wife is your biggest fan." – "And I hers" Ron replied softly.
And indeed, since the fateful days of the war, Ron feels close to Fleur and he also held a special place in her heart. It warmed Bill's heart, that she, whenever his brother came to visit, fusses over him as – as if he was her baby brother. She teased him, laughed with him, and if necessary, she scolded him, gently but firmly.
Her greeting always contained an embrace (and in case of an absent Hermione, a kiss on each cheek).
And the kids loved their uncle Ron also beyond all measure. For their and Fleur's sake, Ron learned even a few french words (his accent was terrible, but it's the thought, that counts). Unfortunately, to Fleur's dismay, he doesn't acquire a taste for the Cuisine française.
It also means a lot to Bill, when Fleur reminded her brother-in-law in all regularity, that their door is always open to him.
Lost in thought, Ron stared at the mantelpiece with the lots and lots of photo frames, while he twirled his wand in his fingers.
Bill furrowed his forehead and asked concerned: "Everything ok, little brother?"
Without looking at him, nodded Ron: "Sure!" He put his wand in his pocket and looked questioningly at Bill: "Say, Bill, have you ever heard of Darzan and Jane?"
"Darzan and Jane, you say?" Bill repeated thoughtfully – "Hmm!" – "Should I?" – "Hermione implied, that I'm like this Darzan." – Bill chuckled: "Then it's definitely not a compliment".
Ron nudged him in the shoulder: "Arse!"
"Tsk, tsk, I'm afraid, that you still need a lesson in….." – "Shut up, Bill" Ron interrupted, laughing. – Bill jumped up and ruffled Ron's hair: "The youth of today, no respect for elders, eh?" – Ron took a step backwards and grinned: "Watch out, old man, and don't overstretch yourself."
Bill made a rude gesture with his finger and glanced simultaneously at his wristwatch: "Merlin, I hope, it's nearly time for lunch!"
Ron stretched and yawned: "Not bloody likely – unless Mum could rescue the roast lamb."
"Maybe I have slightly exaggerated, uh, with the extent of damage. "
Ron's eyes popped out of his head: "You've lied to Mum?"
Bill grinned mischievous: "The end justifies the means. Besides, I did just a little fib, unlike, your sister-in-laws, who came up with the idea, to jinx the stove."
His brother peered to the door: "Wow, they are .." – "Something very special?!" – "I actually wanted to say 'unmitigated Weasleys', but 'something very special' hits the nail on the head." He sighed: "Nevertheless, I'd better be off, before the lunatic, um, Mum comes back."
"I don't think, this good idea. Mum will be livid, if you disappear without apologizing." warned Bill.
Ron shrugged his shoulder resigned: "So what? Most of the time, I'm not anyway on Molly Weasley's list of the 10 most popular wizards." He avoided Bill's stern look and added softly: "I'm not even among the top 20." Sadly, after all these years, he still believed, that his mother did not love him, like his siblings and Harry. And he was not the only one, who thought so.
Bill recalled a accidentally overheard conversation between Audrey and Angeline, in which Audrey jokingly remarked, the way, Molly mothered Harry, one might get the impression, that he was her baby boy, and not Ron.
Already in early childhood becoming apparent, that Ron had drawn the shortest straw in favor of his mother. When the long-awaited daughter came into the world, Ron was with his fifteen months self almost a baby. He did not understand, why suddenly Ginny, the sweet baby of the family, received all the attention, particularly from his beloved mother.
The inevitable happened, Ron, who felt neglected, did everything, to get noticed – with the result, that his mother was obviously frustrated and irritated about his jealous behavior. Not ideal conditions for a warm son-mother relationship.
Bill only caught a little of it, since he saw his younger siblings only during his school holidays. But in the following years he noticed, that Ickle Ronniekins, who, according to the banter of the twins, was tied to his mummy's apron string, was much closer to their father, than to their mother (and so it was up to date).
Sure, eventually realized his mother Ron's aloofness towards her, but it was too late, the damage was done. And it was an open secret for anyone (but Ron), that Molly envied her daughter-in-law for her close relationship to her youngest son.
His brother grabbed some floo powder out of the vase. "Hey Bill, give the girls my thanks from me." He threw a handful into the fireplace and stepped into the green flames. Lost in thought, nodded Bill.
And now that the marriage of Ron and Hermione, her beloved daughter-in-law, stood on the brink, it's gotten worse. In his mother's eyes, Ron was the guilty party.
Startled from Ron's loud destination proclamation, Bill looked up in surprise and called after him: "Wait, Ron, did you tell Mum about Elaine?" Judging by the empty fireplace, Ron had not heard Bill's question.
"I knew it!" Puzzled, Bill turned around, to face his disgruntled mother, who added, declaring: "Your brother is having an affair, and you, Wilhelm Arthur Weasley, know about."
Bill's jaw dropped. "How do you get this idea", he croaked amazed.
"Who, if not his mistress, is this Elaine." She spat and went up to him.
Mistress? Oh mum! Bill could not help, he threw his head back and burst out laughing.
"There is nothing to laugh about, Bill." She put her hands on her hips and shot him an offended look.
He started to speak, but could not stop laughing.
His mother's face flushed with anger and she hissed: "Get a grip, Bill. I would like to know, what's so funny, if your brother is having an affair."
Bill wiped the tears of laughter from the corner of his eyes and choked: "Mum, Elaine is the…", he stopped short, to gasp for air, "marriage counselor of Ron and Hermione."
Molly replied tight-lipped: "Marriage counselor?"
He nodded: "Yes, every Monday and Wednesday, they go to the marriage counseling."
"They speak to a complete stranger about their marriage issues?"
"Elaine is a very good friend of Fleur!"
"And a Frenchwoman, I'm right?", she barked
With a frown, he gave her a look of bewilderment: "She is actually French, but I don't know, what you are trying to say."
She snorted: "Your brother is anything, but talkative, when it comes to feelings, except he is with your wife. Therefore, I assume, that he has a…weakness for french women."
Although, he noticed her short break before the word 'weakness', Bill decided, for once, to ignore this stinger: "As I said before, she is a really good friend, who happens to be a marriage counselor." He turned, to leave the room, but stopped at the door. "And one more thing, mum." He looked over his shoulder, and asked in a low and thoughtful voice: "Have you considered, that it might easier for them, to speak in the presence of an outsider about their problems?"
Her hands, which twisted the hem of the apron, stilled, but otherwise his mother showed no reaction.
"But enough of that, I'm so hungry, I could eat a hippogreif." As he moved out the door, he called to her: "Are you coming, mum?!"
