*FICLET: Housework*
Gah, just something I wrote in a very short space of time before a challenge closed, so forgive the crapness.
It should at least be better than that hetfic I'm gonna post as soon as it's got a title, though... ^_~
Housework
by S_Star
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine.
Rating: G
Pairings: None
Summary: Molly's work is never done.
AN: For the Clocking Off challenge on the_burrowers - it's short because I didn't realise the challenge closed so soon and just dashed it off in 15 minutes. ^^;
Housework
'Ronald Bilius Weasley, if you let that owl loose in my kitchen one more time...!'
Ron blushes red, grabs Pig and runs away, leaving me to face the remains of what was once going to be dinner.
I sigh and look over at the table where Hermione - lovely girl, really, shame about all those lies the papers tell about her - and Harry are sitting and trying not to laugh at poor Ron. He should really know by now that when I'm cooking the animals have to stay outside: the time Fred and George smuggled fairies inside and let them loose while I was making dinner for some of Arthur's collegues at the Ministry was enough to make it an official house rule, as well as giving me a few grey hairs.
Then again, that's just another day-to-day hazard: being a mother to children with mischievous streaks wider than the Hogwarts Great Hall, you have to learn to leave your vanity at the door.
Harry and Hermione, on the other hand...they're both so polite and sweet; and I do wish Ron would pick up some of that rather than encouraging them to spend all their money in joke shops like he does.
'Harry, dear, would you mind running upstairs and telling Ginny that dinner's ready?'
And he gets up and goes, just like that, without any whining whatsoever. I heave a sigh and wonder where exactly I've failed as a parent.
Dinner is, as always, like trying to feed a pack of teething Crups, and I don't even get the chance to find out whether the remains of the pie made a passable casserole after the twins have finished with it.
When everyone's finally done scooping out dollops of ice cream and levitating them over Ron's head, I banish them to their rooms, put Arthur's plate in the oven for him, and go and sit down in the living room.
I pick up the latest copy of 'Witch Weekly' - I've been dying to read it all day, it has the exclusive story about how Gilderoy Lockhart, that poor man, struggled to regain his memory - and glance at the clock on the mantlepiece.
The hand labelled 'Molly' is hovering uncertainly, not pointing at any particular activity, and I smile. It's my little joke that this is when I 'clock off' - for about half an hour, the kids, Arthur and the housework are taken care of, and I can have some quality time with my magazine.
As soon as I accio myself over a cup of hot chocolate and get comfortable, though, Arthur Floos in and starts telling me all about a wheelbarrow he'd found that ate whatever was put in or near it - 'You should've seen it, Molly, it got through half of Kingsley Shacklebolt's filing cabinet before we could get it tied up!' - and Ginny's voice echoes down the stairs, something about the ghoul in the attack and a burst water pipe.
I sigh and drag myself to my feet, with a final glance over at the clock before my hand switches to 'Cleaning up Family's Mess'. I smile ruefully and pick up my wand and a nearby mop - a woman's work is never done.
~end~
It should at least be better than that hetfic I'm gonna post as soon as it's got a title, though... ^_~
Housework
by S_Star
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine.
Rating: G
Pairings: None
Summary: Molly's work is never done.
AN: For the Clocking Off challenge on the_burrowers - it's short because I didn't realise the challenge closed so soon and just dashed it off in 15 minutes. ^^;
Housework
'Ronald Bilius Weasley, if you let that owl loose in my kitchen one more time...!'
Ron blushes red, grabs Pig and runs away, leaving me to face the remains of what was once going to be dinner.
I sigh and look over at the table where Hermione - lovely girl, really, shame about all those lies the papers tell about her - and Harry are sitting and trying not to laugh at poor Ron. He should really know by now that when I'm cooking the animals have to stay outside: the time Fred and George smuggled fairies inside and let them loose while I was making dinner for some of Arthur's collegues at the Ministry was enough to make it an official house rule, as well as giving me a few grey hairs.
Then again, that's just another day-to-day hazard: being a mother to children with mischievous streaks wider than the Hogwarts Great Hall, you have to learn to leave your vanity at the door.
Harry and Hermione, on the other hand...they're both so polite and sweet; and I do wish Ron would pick up some of that rather than encouraging them to spend all their money in joke shops like he does.
'Harry, dear, would you mind running upstairs and telling Ginny that dinner's ready?'
And he gets up and goes, just like that, without any whining whatsoever. I heave a sigh and wonder where exactly I've failed as a parent.
Dinner is, as always, like trying to feed a pack of teething Crups, and I don't even get the chance to find out whether the remains of the pie made a passable casserole after the twins have finished with it.
When everyone's finally done scooping out dollops of ice cream and levitating them over Ron's head, I banish them to their rooms, put Arthur's plate in the oven for him, and go and sit down in the living room.
I pick up the latest copy of 'Witch Weekly' - I've been dying to read it all day, it has the exclusive story about how Gilderoy Lockhart, that poor man, struggled to regain his memory - and glance at the clock on the mantlepiece.
The hand labelled 'Molly' is hovering uncertainly, not pointing at any particular activity, and I smile. It's my little joke that this is when I 'clock off' - for about half an hour, the kids, Arthur and the housework are taken care of, and I can have some quality time with my magazine.
As soon as I accio myself over a cup of hot chocolate and get comfortable, though, Arthur Floos in and starts telling me all about a wheelbarrow he'd found that ate whatever was put in or near it - 'You should've seen it, Molly, it got through half of Kingsley Shacklebolt's filing cabinet before we could get it tied up!' - and Ginny's voice echoes down the stairs, something about the ghoul in the attack and a burst water pipe.
I sigh and drag myself to my feet, with a final glance over at the clock before my hand switches to 'Cleaning up Family's Mess'. I smile ruefully and pick up my wand and a nearby mop - a woman's work is never done.
~end~