Riding Weasley Broomsticks

August 31st, 2020
"Nicholas! Give it back!"

"George, I said no canary creams!"

"CHRISTOPHER MARTIN WEASLEY!"

"I'm a princess!"

"Mum, did you make squash?"

"No!"

"Then what smells?"

"It's only Shayna."

"Nicholas! Don't talk like that about your sister! And give Kathy back her Barbie."

"I SAID NO CANARY CREAMS!"

"But Mum -"

"Does anyone remember the cure for headaches?"

"Yes. It's called 'murder your children.'"

"Thank you, dear."

I love this, thought Molly. There's nothing better than a house full of children. And adults who act like them... To Molly Weasley, things weren't normal unless there was chaos. Seven children of her own had taught her that. Sure, it was hectic and somewhat stressful, but that's what she found so great about it.

"Dinner!" she called.

One simple word, and a stampede ensued. The sound of twenty-eight pairs of feet all running to the (magically enlarged) table filled the air. Immediately, hungry hands made a grab for the grub.

"WAIT!" Twenty-seven heads turned in her direction. Only little Emma wasn't looking at Molly, she was too interested in the grasshopper on the ground below. "Canary Cream check."

Groans. "Hmph! Four canaries already. And I will not tolerate feathers in my food, thank you very much!" She bustled around the table, stopping at a plateful of what seemed to be taffy. "What's this?" she asked suspiciously. Fred and George tried to hide behind a jello mould, but Molly's instinct was quicker. "Boys..."

"Hey, wait a second! I've seen those before," said Ron. Fred and George exchanged amused looks behind the jello, which bore an amazing resemblance to Prince Charles (he still wasn't King), big ears and all. "Bloody hell," Ron muttered, realization dawning on him.

"Language, Ron," came Hermione's automatic response. "There are children present."

He ignored her. "Those are Lover's Got Your Lips!" His face was quickly becoming the same hue as the fiery hair on his head.

That was it. They couldn't control themselves anymore. The twins were laughing hysterically, and were soon joined by Charlie, Bill, Caroline, Arthur, Angelina, Ginny, Oliver and even Percy. Harry was fighting it, for Ron's sake, but wasn't very successful. Soon, he too had joined in.

"What's so funny, eh? Why are you all laughing at Uncle Ron?" Fred and Angelina's oldest, Benjamin, was just as troublesome as his father, and just as curious. "C'mon, tell us! Unless... Is it something kinky?"

"Benjamin! Language!" This time it was Angelina on pottymouth patrol. "No, it was not 'kinky.'"

"Well, then what?"

"Eat your supper. All of you."

"Will you tell us after supper?"

"I will," came Harry's voice. Seeing the look of absolute horror on Ron's face, he laughed. "Sorry, mate, but this story is too good. And we've got it on film and everything!"

"Film? As in film you can watch over and over and over?"

"Yep. Muggle tradition, right Hermione? Every Muggle wedding has a video."

A meal had never been eaten so fast at the Burrow. All the kids wanted to know what Lover's Got Your Lips was, and the adults (well, most) were laughing too hard to eat. The leftovers and dishes were cleared in record time, and everyone gathered under the large willow tree.

And Harry began his story, explaining to everyone in sordid detail the embarrassment suffered by both Ron and Hermione that day, then proceeded to show the Muggle video. The kids were in tears laughing, especially their two boys, Brian and Michael.

When the laughter died down, Molly spoke up. "I swore that day that if Lover's Got Your Lips ever made an appearance at a Weasley family gathering, I'd make you two regret it." She looked pointedly at Fred and George, who no longer had Prince Charles' replica for protection. "I recall I vowed that Angelina would know about your pink knickers, isn't that right Fred?" He couldn't believe it. Not only did she mention it in front of Angelina, but everyone else! "And George, my dear. I believe Carrie was to know about Janie Johnson and the broomstick?"

"Now that sounds kinky," commented Ben, giving George a look of newfound respect. "Go Uncle Georgie!"

Neither Angelina or Hermione bothered to tell him to watch his language. They were both too interested in Molly's stories. "Pink knickers? Why, Fred, is there something you've been keeping from me?"

"It's nothing," he muttered.

"Oh, that's where you're wrong, young man. It is something. You were twelve. You'd just been home from school a few days and already you were in trouble. So I made you do your own laundry the Muggle way. Of course, you mixed colours and whites, and every piece of white clothing you owned turned pink. Especially your knickers, they were the brightest pink. I suspect Charlie had something to do with that, but I could never prove it. You had pink underpants for a year. Though wearing them was nothing compared to what Percy did with them."

"Have you no mercy?" Fred was suffering from a major bout of disbelief. This had to constitute as child abuse. Emotional damage!

"You and George," Molly went on, "really got under his skin. So he hung your really pink knickers from the flag pole in front of the Muggle school a few streets over. Even put Fred's name on them!"

"Percy? You did that?" said Oliver in disbelief. Percy just grinned, while George laughed at his twin.

"She got you, mate."

"And you, George Weasley! Shall I enlighten everyone here to the details of June 2nd, 1986?"

"Yes," came the overwhelming sound of twenty-seven voices, Fred's leading. George shot his twin a death look. Child abuse, I'm telling you. Emotional damage!

"It was June of '86. You were eight or so at the time, I believe. Little Janie had been hanging around quite a bit, but I didn't think much of it. That is, until I couldn't find them at teatime one day. The clock said that George was 'experimenting.' Eight years with him had taught me that this was no good.

"Well, I found them. Behind the garage. They were snogging, right there! George tried to tell me that he was teaching Janie, who was a Muggle, how to ride Bill's broomstick."

"Just be thankful that's the only Weasley broomstick she was trying to ride," cracked Ben.

"BENJAMIN!" Those old enough to understand Ben's meaning burst out laughing, while the younger ones looked on.

"Well, Ben is definitely a Weasley," hooted Bill. "No question. He's got our trademark dirty mind."