Breakfast in Bed

"Daddy, where's Mummy?"

Ron Weasley looked down at his youngest son and grinned. "Mummy's sleeping, Arty, so we need to be 'specially quiet, all right?"

Arty nodded, his three-year-old eyes wide, and placed a chubby finger to his lips. "Be quiet for Mummy," he repeated in a loud whisper.

"That's right, quiet for Mummy." Ron smothered a laugh. "Where are the twins, Arty? Are they upstairs?"

Arty bounced up and down on his little feet and pointed excitedly. "They make a pwesent!"

"They're making a present?" Ron repeated. "A present for Mummy?" More bouncing and pointing answered his question. He laughed and lifted the little boy up into his arms. "Did you make Mummy a present too?" he asked.

Arty suddenly twisted and squirmed, and Ron set him back on the floor. Chubby legs hit the ground running, and the youngest Weasley disappeared around the corner. Curious, Ron followed his son upstairs and into one of the bedrooms. Sitting on the bed were the twins, Grant and Stella, almost completely concealed by a mountain of wrapping paper and ribbon.

"Hi, Daddy!" Stella greeted him cheerfully. "We're wrapping Mum's gifts!"

"I can see that," Ron grinned. "Looks like you've used enough paper, that's for sure."

"We want them to look extra nice," Grant added, not looking up. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he attempted to tie a perfect bow with a piece of silver ribbon. "Mother's Day is a special day."

Ron nodded solemnly. "Of course, you're right. Which is why I want you to help me make a special breakfast for your mum. How does that sound?"

Arty giggled and clapped his fat little hands. "Bweakfast! I want bweakfast!"

Ron reached down and ruffled his son's already messy hair. "Yes, breakfast for you too." Suddenly he frowned. "Where's Rire?"

Stella rolled her eyes, always the dramatic one. "He's in his room, testing another one of Uncle Fred's products," she said with an air of superiority. "Apparently he thinks that he can skip Hogwarts and just be a tester for Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes." Another roll of the eyes. "As if a -ten-year-old could get a job without an education. Honestly."

Ron laughed. Seven going on twenty-seven, his youngest daughter was more like her mother than she thought. "Well," he said with a chuckle, "why don't you go tell him to hurry on downstairs and we'll get started with breakfast."

Stella nodded and hopped off the bed. "Hopefully he hasn't been turned into a toad this time," she called over her shoulder as she bounced out the door.

Grant finished tying his ribbon and sat back, a look of satisfaction on his face. "There," he said happily. "Perfect. Do you think Mum will like it?"

"Oh, definitely," Ron said admiringly. "She'll be very happy."

Grant smiled contentedly and climbed off the bed. "Can we make hot cakes? They're Mum's favorite."

Ron picked up Arty and led the way downstairs. "Hot cakes it is," he agreed. "How about eggs and juice as well?"

"Juice!" Arty chimed in. "I want juice!"

"I'll get his juice, Dad," Grant offered, opening a cupboard and pulling out a cup. "You start with the hot cakes."

Ron settled Arty in his chair as Stella and Rire bounded down the stairs. "'Morning, Dad!" Rire exclaimed. "Happy Mother's Day!"

Ron laughed. "Same to you. Get the cookbook, will you?"

Rire pulled a thick volume off the shelf. "Are you sure about this, Dad?" he asked skeptically.

"Of course," Ron said, slightly confused. "Why?"

There was a moment of silence among the children until Stella finally spoke. "Well, Daddy, it's just that... er... you're not exactly the best cook."

"Not that we don't like your food, or anything," Grant added kindly, not wanting to hurt his father's feelings.

"But it's awful," Rire finished. "Remember the time Mum was sick and you tried to make omelettes?"

Ron frowned. "They weren't that bad."

"Dad," Stella said in a patronizing tone, "you put tuna fish in them. They were gray." She sounded scandalized.

Ron laughed, knowing full well that the culinary arts were not his special talent. "All right, I'll admit that they were a bit off, but hot cakes are much easier than omelettes, and I promise I won't use any tuna fish."

This seemed to satisfy the children. Stella pulled the cookbook from her brother's hands and began giving orders. "Daddy, you get the frying pans and turn on the stove. Rire, you get the ingredients for the hot cakes. Grant, get the eggs. I'll read the recipe."

Ron smiled to himself as he watched them rush around the kitchen, working together to make breakfast. He never thought he'd be lucky enough to have his own family, let alone a beautiful wife and eight wonderful children - the four oldest now at Hogwarts - but somehow it had happened. He was thirty-eight years old and quite content with his life.

"Daddy, pay attention!" Stella scolded, pulling him out of his reverie. "You need to turn the stove on in order to cook anything."

"Right, sorry," Ron apologized, turning around to obey orders. "What's next, Captain Stella?"

She grinned proudly at the nickname. "You can help Rire mix the ingredients together while Grant makes the eggs."

Ron nodded and pulled out a large mixing bowl, setting it on the table. He watched with amusement as Rire haphazardly tossed the ingredients into the bowl.

"Rire!" Stella exclaimed. "You're doing it wrong!"

"Am not!" her brother retorted. "I'm putting the ingredients in just like you said!"

"But you're supposed to measure them!" she wailed. "Daddy! Tell him to do it right!"

Ron put a hand on each of their shoulders. "Stella, I think it will be all right. It doesn't look like he's messed it up too much. Rire, be more careful and use the measuring spoons, okay?"

They nodded, glaring at each other, and went back to work. Stella set about making the juice while Grant worked at scrambling the eggs. Ron and Rire finished up the hot cake batter just as Arty decided to throw his juice cup across the room.

"Arty, no!" Stella chided, then sighed dramatically. "I'll clean it up, Daddy."

"Thank you, Stella," Ron replied with a smile, turning to pour the batter into the frying pan. "Hand me that spatula, will you, Grant?"

Fifteen minutes and two sibling squabbles later, breakfast was ready. Stella carefully arranged the items on a tray, adding a freshly picked flower from the garden as an extra flourish.

"All right," Ron said, looking into his children's eager faces, "I think we're ready. You three run upstairs and get your presents. I'll carry the tray."

"Ready, Daddy, ready!" Arty exclaimed from his chair, his cheeks sticky from the juice.

Ron pulled his son from the chair and set him on the floor. "All right, Arty. Do you have your present for Mummy?"

Arty nodded excitedly and ran into the next room, returning with something held behind his back. "It's a supwise!"

"A surprise for Mummy?" Ron winked at his son's proud smile. "She'll love it."

Ron carefully balanced the tray of food as he followed Arty up the stairs. The other children were waiting outside the bedroom door, clutching their wrapped gifts and nearly bursting with excitement. At Ron's nod, Grant knocked gently on the door.

"Come in."

Grant opened the door and stuck his head in. "Good morning, Mum."

Hermione sat up in the bed and smiled at the faces peering in through the doorway. "Good morning. Come in, come in."

Arty needed no further invitation. He dashed across the room and clambered up onto the bed, throwing himself into his mother's arms. Hermione laughed and offered her cheek for his sticky kiss. "Hello, darling," she said, hugging him tightly to her.

Ron nudged Grant with a corner of the tray, and the boy led the procession to the side of the bed. "Happy Mother's Day, Mum," he said with a smile.

Stella pushed forward. "We made you presents!" she exclaimed.

"Me too! Me too!" Arty piped up, pulling something from his pocket. "Happy Day, Mummy!" He held out the crumpled piece of paper and Hermione took it, unfolding it gently. She smiled at the sight - Arty had drawn a picture of her in his special three-year-old way. Her hair - purple and red - was a mass of scribbles, her lips were green, and she only had one eye. At the bottom of the page was a large pink heart. Hermione leaned over and kissed the top of her son's head. "Thank you, darling. It's wonderful!"

"My turn!" Stella said excitedly and held out a small mass of green wrapping paper. "I wrapped it myself."

"I can see that," Hermione smiled, carefully pulling the paper back to reveal a necklace made of tiny, colorful beads. "Oh, Stella, it's lovely!" she gushed. "Did you make it yourself?"

Her daughter nodded proudly. "I used a lot of blue because I know it's your favorite color."

"It is," Hermione confirmed. "How thoughtful of you." She pulled the necklace on over her head and reached out to hug Stella. "Thank you very, very much."

Grant offered his gift next. "I'm not very good at making things," he said apologetically as Hermione unwrapped the present. "But I wrote it myself."

Hermione pulled out a small piece of wood, sanded down until it was very smooth and with a short poem carved into it. She read it out loud. "Roses are red, violets are blue, you're the best mum in the world, and I love you." She laughed and pulled Grant into a hug. "It's beautiful, Grant. I love it."

He smiled shyly and then stepped back so Rire could have his turn. "Dad helped me with it," he prefaced, holding out a large, flat package. "So it's kind of from him as well."

Hermione looked from her son to her husband with a smile. "It's doubly special, then." She tore open the paper to reveal a large framed picture.

"Oh, my," she whispered, her eyes tearing up. "How did you ever manage...?"

"It was quite a task, believe me," Ron grinned.

Hermione simply stared at the moving picture. All eight of her children smiled up at her from inside the frame. The four oldest - Guia, Harry, Leser, and Emma Eliza - stood in the back, waving happily and looking so grown up. Rire, with a goofy grin that was so perfectly him, held a miraculously non-wiggly Arty in his arms. The twins stood in the front holding a large paper banner that read, 'We Love You, Mum!'

Hermione couldn't believe it. They'd tried for years to get a decent picture of the children, but trying to get eight Weasley children to stand still and not kill each other in the process was like trying to catch a rainbow in a handbag. She looked up, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "It's perfect. Thank you."

"One last surprise," Ron said, trying to head off her tears before there was an all-out flood. "Breakfast in bed!"

Hermione laughed as she suddenly noticed the tray in her husband's hands. "You made breakfast? Is it safe?" she teased.

Ron gasped dramatically, feigning offense. "I can't believe you'd even ask!"

Stella leaned over and whispered conspiratorially in her mother's ears. "He only mixed the batter. We made the rest."

Hermione raised a hand to her mouth to cover her laughter. "I'm glad to hear it."

Ron winked at her as he placed the tray on her lap. "A perfectly edible breakfast for the best mother in the world."

Hermione leaned up as he pressed a kiss to her lips. "Thank you, Ron."

"Ewwwww," Rire moaned at the display of affection. "That's gross."

Stella sighed. "It's so romantic." She rolled her eyes as Grant made a face that indicated he was on Rire's side. "Oh, let's get out of here before you two ruin the whole moment." She grabbed Arty's hand and herded her brothers out of the room. "Happy Mother's Day, Mum!" she added as she pushed them through the door.

"Thank you, dear," Hermione responded with a laugh.

After the children had gone, Ron sat down on the edge of the bed and smiled at his wife. "You really are the best, Hermione," he said. "You've given me twenty wonderful years of marriage and eight amazing children who will, quite naturally, take over the Wizarding world one day."

She laughed and squeezed his hand. "Are you ever surprised that we made it this far?" she asked. "I mean, we've certainly had our share of rough times."

"Yeah, but they make the good times even better." He leaned over and kissed her again. "And we've definitely had our share of good times." He took the breakfast tray from her lap and set it on the nightstand. Hermione scooted over on the bed and he stretched out beside her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "I still have one more gift for you."

"Ron, I don't need..."

"No arguing," he said. "Mum's coming over tonight to watch the kids and you and I are going out on a date."

Her eyes widened. "Really? Oh, Ron, thank you!" She planted a kiss on his chin and smiled up at him. "When did you get so good at this romance thing?" she teased.

"What can I say?" he grinned. "My mother taught me well. All those charm lessons finally paid off."

Hermione laughed. "I'll be sure to thank her for it later."

Ron glanced over at the nightstand. "Do you want your breakfast now?"

She shook her head and snuggled closer to him. "It'll keep." Kissing him once more, she whispered against his lips, "Some things are better than breakfast in bed."

FIN