A Little While Longer

A/N: So apparently Ron Weasley’s birthday is a magical day indeed! I honestly thought I might never write again, but I am humbly offering you this tiny drabble. It is inspired by my own son who is oh so very close to heading out into the great horizon of scary, exciting question marks!

Molly Weasley was not an idiot. She knew the types of things that people said about her, about her family. She knew they thought she was barmy for having so many children, especially when her husband had no fortune and a career that was as thankless as it was low-paying. But, quite frankly, they could tend their own cauldrons and quit trying to stir hers! 

Marrying Arthur had been the best decision she had ever made: he was ten times the husband and father of any other wizard she had ever heard of.  She felt more than blessed that they had been given such wonderful children, no matter how challenging it was at times. She never minded doing without some of the things that other witches deemed important: fancy clothes, jewelry, exotic vacations, as long as she could keep her family healthy and happy. 

But, even so, there were times, few and far between, that she felt the shabbiness that others saw in her life. 

Today was one of those days. Nothing had turned out the way she had envisioned it: the special cake, she had gone to the fancy market to get the ingredients, had fallen apart after she took it out of the pan, the bacon had burned while she tried to salvage the cake, the tea kettle had screamed until she thought her eardrums would burst. 

She had wanted more than anything for the day to be special. It was her little Ronnie’s birthday, his last one before…well, next year he would be off to Hogwarts and it just wouldn’t be the same.  Sometimes it felt like it was all slipping away from her so quickly, before she knew it she would be alone in this sprawling house. More and more she found herself wanting to hold on to him and Ginny, to keep them from growing too quickly. One by one, or two by two in the twins’ case, her gaggle had left the nest, leaving only holidays and summers.

Yes, she needed this day to be a good one for her youngest son. She’d never been able to give him, or any of her children, a birthday filled with expensive gifts or lavish parties. Instead she showered them with their favorite foods and let them fill the day anyway they wanted, well, she’d had to adjust that slightly after the twins declared that they wanted to run through the muggle village starkers for their eighth birthday.  

This year Ron had asked for the usual: bacon and chocolate biscuits for breakfast, it was only one day a year after all, no chores, new Quidditch magazines, and a big birthday cake after dinner. He really was the easiest of her children to make happy. He never made extravagant requests or complained about, well, anything except cleaning his room. She knew he’d never make a fuss about the cake or the bacon or the meager pile of mostly homemade gifts.

No, Molly Weasley never minded doing without for herself, but when she thought about all the wonderful things she could buy her children if she had the galleons, it hurt her more than she would ever tell any other living soul. So she put on a brave face and salvaged what she could of the bacon and bound the cake together with a quick spell that was more like a prayer than magic. Today would only be about Ron: about holding on to her little boy a little while longer.

****

Ron Weasley was not an idiot. He knew the things that people said about his family. He knew that most wizarding families had more money and less children. But when he thought about it, which was usually only when he went with his Mum shopping or when he heard his parents talk in hushed voices about how to afford supplies for the newest Weasleys to attend Hogwarts, he didn’t let it bother him for long. 

He had a great family (even though on more than one occasion he had thought that being an only child could have had it’s advantages). His Dad was never too busy to explain how things worked (even barmy muggle things), he had enough brothers so that there was always someone around to play chess or talk about quidditch with, and Ginny wasn’t even bad even though she was a girl. She was always ready to go on adventures around the pond and never got grossed out by slimy creatures. Then there was his Mum. Sometimes he got tired of her telling him to clean his room, but she was always the first thing that he thought of when he thought of home. 

Next year he wouldn’t be home for his birthday. He would be at Hogwarts. Today he would get his letter (even though he sometimes had nightmares that he was the first Weasley in history to not get an invitation) and it would be his turn to do all the amazing things Bill and Charlie told him about on holidays. Would he play Quidditch? Would he be a prefect? Surely he would be a Gryffindor…but what if he were none of those things? 

As he thought about the future, the smell of bacon brought him back to the present. The best thing about birthdays was that he got to be “King for a Day” and eat his favorite foods and have no chores. Sure, he secretly dreamed about his parents surprising him with a broom (even though he technically wasn’t supposed to have one yet) or a Cannons jersey, but he would never tell them that.

Ron never (well almost never) minded doing without for himself, but he couldn’t stand the thought of his parents thinking he was disappointed. So he put on his best birthday face, deciding to enjoy whatever the day might bring. Next year was filled with exciting, scary question marks. Part of him was ready to run and jump into that future; he could see it waiting for him, like a packed trunk, on that same platform where all his brothers had waved their goodbyes. But part of him was content to snuggle under his blankets and enjoy the comforts of childhood a little while longer.