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in_the_blue) wrote2014-12-01 03:08 pm
in_the_blue) wrote2014-12-01 03:08 pm
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December 1
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miriammoules requested a Harry Potter story based on the carol I heard the bells on Christmas day. My friend, I hope this fits the... er... bill.
I Heard Bill on Christmas Day
“Where is he, where is he?” With all the impatience a six-year-old could muster, Ron jumped out of bed. Ignoring the ghoul in the attic, he raced down the stairs in his hand-me-down pajamas.
In the kitchen, his mum stirred a large pot on the stove. It smelled of apples and cinnamon, of barley and sugar and last night’s sunset. On the cutting board, a pile of chestnuts hopped around, doing their best to avoid the chopping knife’s valiant attempt to turn them into cubes.
“Slow down, darling.” Molly glanced down at her youngest son. “Where is who?”
Ron looked up at her, practicing the look he’d seen his twin brothers use time and again, the one that meant mum, you’re being stupid. “Bill.”
“Bill?”
“My brother, Bill.”
Molly set down the spoon. She liked cooking the old-fashioned way. The Muggle way, they called it, where the cook had to have her hands on everything to make it work. He’d heard her explain that sometimes it was just easier that way, even though his dad had laughed at the concept of anything done the Muggle way being easier than magicking it up a bit. Getting to her knees, Molly held out her hands to her little boy. “Oh, Ron, I thought you knew, he’s staying at Hogwarts for the holidays.”
Ron’s face absolutely fell. “How”—he started to sniffle—“could he not come home for Christmas?” Up on the cutting board, the chestnuts and knife stopped their perilous dance. It was as if they, too, were waiting on an explanation.
His mum grabbed him up in a hug. “Your brother’s just turned sixteen, Ron. He’s learning to become an adult.”
“I don’t want him to become an adult. I want him here.”
“We all want him here.” Arthur moved to his wife’s side.
“But Charlie came home.”
Arthur nodded solemnly, but not unkindly. “Just watch, though. By the time you’re sixteen, you’ll be aching to stay away on the holidays too.” He reached for Ron, picked him up, and carried him on his shoulders. “Come along, now, let your mum finish her cooking. You come with me. We’ll see what’s on the WWN.”
Ron rubbed the frustration out of his eyes as his father turned on the wireless just in time to hear Argenius Splotch introduce “a rather lovely Muggle rendition of I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.” Taking a seat in his most comfortable chair by the fire, Arthur bounced his son up and down on one bony knee. “What is it, son?”
“It should be I Heard Bill on Christmas Day,” Ron pouted.
“You’re right. It should. There’s nothing to be done about it, though.” Fingers that had parented five sons before him knew his youngest boy’s tickle spots, and before Ron could help himself he was laughing and giggling. He laughed so hard he barely even noticed when the front door opened and a familiar head of red hair peeked round the corner. The hair was longer than it had been at summer’s end and his brother was taller, but there was no mistaking that the eldest Weasley boy was, in fact, walking through the door.
“Bill!” Ron scrambled out of his father’s grasp, launching himself at his brother. “They said you weren’t coming home!”
Bill caught him up in a hug and laughed. “Are you mad? It’s my favorite time of year. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He paraded into the kitchen, Ron in his arms. “Hi Mum! Hi, Dad! Surprise! Are you glad to see me after all?”
Molly gasped, covering her smile with the back of one flour-covered hand. "Look at you! Look at your hair. William Arthur Weasley, is that an earring?"
Ron absolutely beamed. “I knew I got that old Muggle Christmas carol right.”
Arthur laughed. “From here on we’ll sing it your way. I Heard Bill on Christmas Day.”
Even the chestnuts on the cutting board seemed to think it was a good idea. They went back to avoiding the chopping knife with just as much skill as Bill avoided any further discussion about the length of his hair and for a day, for one beautiful Christmas day, all was right at The Burrow.
miriammoules requested a Harry Potter story based on the carol I heard the bells on Christmas day. My friend, I hope this fits the... er... bill.I Heard Bill on Christmas Day
“Where is he, where is he?” With all the impatience a six-year-old could muster, Ron jumped out of bed. Ignoring the ghoul in the attic, he raced down the stairs in his hand-me-down pajamas.
In the kitchen, his mum stirred a large pot on the stove. It smelled of apples and cinnamon, of barley and sugar and last night’s sunset. On the cutting board, a pile of chestnuts hopped around, doing their best to avoid the chopping knife’s valiant attempt to turn them into cubes.
“Slow down, darling.” Molly glanced down at her youngest son. “Where is who?”
Ron looked up at her, practicing the look he’d seen his twin brothers use time and again, the one that meant mum, you’re being stupid. “Bill.”
“Bill?”
“My brother, Bill.”
Molly set down the spoon. She liked cooking the old-fashioned way. The Muggle way, they called it, where the cook had to have her hands on everything to make it work. He’d heard her explain that sometimes it was just easier that way, even though his dad had laughed at the concept of anything done the Muggle way being easier than magicking it up a bit. Getting to her knees, Molly held out her hands to her little boy. “Oh, Ron, I thought you knew, he’s staying at Hogwarts for the holidays.”
Ron’s face absolutely fell. “How”—he started to sniffle—“could he not come home for Christmas?” Up on the cutting board, the chestnuts and knife stopped their perilous dance. It was as if they, too, were waiting on an explanation.
His mum grabbed him up in a hug. “Your brother’s just turned sixteen, Ron. He’s learning to become an adult.”
“I don’t want him to become an adult. I want him here.”
“We all want him here.” Arthur moved to his wife’s side.
“But Charlie came home.”
Arthur nodded solemnly, but not unkindly. “Just watch, though. By the time you’re sixteen, you’ll be aching to stay away on the holidays too.” He reached for Ron, picked him up, and carried him on his shoulders. “Come along, now, let your mum finish her cooking. You come with me. We’ll see what’s on the WWN.”
Ron rubbed the frustration out of his eyes as his father turned on the wireless just in time to hear Argenius Splotch introduce “a rather lovely Muggle rendition of I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.” Taking a seat in his most comfortable chair by the fire, Arthur bounced his son up and down on one bony knee. “What is it, son?”
“It should be I Heard Bill on Christmas Day,” Ron pouted.
“You’re right. It should. There’s nothing to be done about it, though.” Fingers that had parented five sons before him knew his youngest boy’s tickle spots, and before Ron could help himself he was laughing and giggling. He laughed so hard he barely even noticed when the front door opened and a familiar head of red hair peeked round the corner. The hair was longer than it had been at summer’s end and his brother was taller, but there was no mistaking that the eldest Weasley boy was, in fact, walking through the door.
“Bill!” Ron scrambled out of his father’s grasp, launching himself at his brother. “They said you weren’t coming home!”
Bill caught him up in a hug and laughed. “Are you mad? It’s my favorite time of year. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He paraded into the kitchen, Ron in his arms. “Hi Mum! Hi, Dad! Surprise! Are you glad to see me after all?”
Molly gasped, covering her smile with the back of one flour-covered hand. "Look at you! Look at your hair. William Arthur Weasley, is that an earring?"
Ron absolutely beamed. “I knew I got that old Muggle Christmas carol right.”
Arthur laughed. “From here on we’ll sing it your way. I Heard Bill on Christmas Day.”
Even the chestnuts on the cutting board seemed to think it was a good idea. They went back to avoiding the chopping knife with just as much skill as Bill avoided any further discussion about the length of his hair and for a day, for one beautiful Christmas day, all was right at The Burrow.
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