FIC: Mud
Title: Mud (1/1)
Rating: All Ages
Summary: SHH future!fic. Just another day in the Weasley household.
Word Count: 995.
If there was one thing that Lavender could not abide, it was a dirty kitchen. Her mother had made sure she was good at cleaning even before she came of age and could use magic for household tasks. In this house, though, it seemed hard to keep the place clean for too long.
Taking advantage of a little bit of peace and quiet while everyone was out in the garden, Lavender was mixing up a chocolate cake. Some scones were already on the cooling rack and Lavender snagged one for herself, the smells in the kitchen making her hungry. She was reaching for her cake tin when Trevor scampered into the kitchen, all muddy paws and an excitedly wagging tail. Lavender groaned, seeing the trail of mud that the dog had brought with him, though Trevor seemed utterly oblivious to the mess. He sat at her feet, tail thumping against the cupboard door.
Lavender scowled, leaving the wooden spoon in the mixing bowl as she heard laughter and then the unmistakable sound of tiny human feet running across the kitchen floor. “Oof!” Six-year-old Arthur hugged her tightly, nearly knocking her into the counter when he caught her by surprise.
“There’s frogspawn in the pond, Mummy! Daddy was showing us. And Trevor was chasing the stick. I can throw the stick further than Rosie, but that’s because she’s only little. Daddy says I should be a Beater because I’ve got a good arm. Do you think I could play Quidditch for England like Daddy did?”
“Not until you’re older,” Lavender said distractedly, seeing even more mud on the floor now. It was times like this that she was especially glad for magic.
“Careful up the step,” a voice said from the garden.
“No!” Lavender called. “You stay right there, Ron Weasley!” She put her hand on Artie’s shoulder, guiding him back to the door. “All of you need to wipe your feet or I’m not letting you back into the house.”
Little Rosie had one foot on the step, her hand held by her daddy’s much larger one. She tipped her head up to look at Lavender. “Frogspoor!” she said with a broad smile.
“Yes, Artie was telling me about the frogspawn, darling. But I still want you to wipe your feet, okay?” Lavender glanced at Ron. “You, too. You’re meant to be setting an example.”
Ron leant across the threshold, kissing her just below her ear. He gave her a sheepish grin. “Sorry, love.”
Lavender narrowed her eyes. It was incredibly difficult to be annoyed with him when he kissed her just there.
Artie eagerly wiped his feet on the mat before dashing back into the house. “Go and wash your hands!” Lavender called after him. “With soap!”
“He takes after me,” Ron said.
“I know.”
Ron smiled, still holding Rosie’s hand as she wiped her feet in little jerky motions on the mat. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best she could do. “Good girl,” he said as Lavender bent down to pick her up. She cuddled against her mother, Ron pulling her hand away when she went to stick her thumb into her mouth. “Not until you’ve washed your hands, sweetheart.”
He wiped his own feet, the garden rather muddy after the recent rain. “It smells good. You’ve been baking. Anything good?”
“I’ve made some scones. And I’m just about to finish a chocolate cake.”
“Brilliant.” Ron closed the door and ducked his head for a proper kiss, then kissed the top of Rosie’s head, stroking her wispy red hair. “Anyone would think you had a bit of a craving,” he murmured, hand drifting down her stomach.
Lavender rolled her eyes. “Maybe just a little one.” She swatted his hand away, going back to the worktop to pick up her wand. She flicked it at the floor a couple of times, adjusting Rosie on her hip as the mud disappeared from the floor; she would clean it more thoroughly later, but it would do for now.
She sat Rosie on a clean spot on the worktop and Rosie obediently held her hands out, letting Lavender wash them with a cloth before she held them under the running tap. Hands dried, Rosie reached out to be picked up again. She pulled gently on Lavender’s hair. “Can I have a biscuit?” she whispered, leaning in close.
“What sort of biscuit?”
“Chocolate.”
“Chocolate?” Lavender brushed her nose against Rosie’s.
“Yeah,” she breathed. “There’s some in the tin.” Then, she remembered and added, “Pleeeeease.”
Lavender looked at the clock. “Alright. But just one. And you’ve got to promise to eat all your dinner, okay?”
“Okay.”
There was a crunch and Lavender looked up. Ron already had a chocolate biscuit in his mouth: he offered the tin to them. Rosie pressed one finger to her lips, brow furrowing in concentration as she tried to decide exactly which one of the biscuits she wanted. She finally picked one and began to suck on it.
“Am I allowed more than one?” Ron asked through a mouthful of biscuit.
“I don’t know,” said Lavender. “Have you been a good boy?”
“Yes. I’m not going to be bad until later.” He waggled her eyebrows at her and Lavender flushed, taking a biscuit for herself.
Trevor yapped, standing at their feet. Rosie looked down at him, then offered him her biscuit.
“Trevor’s not allowed chocolate,” Lavender reminded her gently, about to suggest that Trevor have one of his own special biscuits when they were interrupted by a yell.
“DADDY!” Arthur came running into the kitchen, nearly skidding over in his socks. “There’s a spider in the bath!” he announced pointing.
Lavender snorted, trying not to laugh as Ron turned pale. “Here,” she said, handing Rosie to Ron; she clung to her daddy with a contented sigh. “I’ll come and help.” She gave Ron’s cheek a quick kiss. “And clean Trevor up while I’m gone. I don’t want him tracking mud through the house.”
Rating: All Ages
Summary: SHH future!fic. Just another day in the Weasley household.
Word Count: 995.
If there was one thing that Lavender could not abide, it was a dirty kitchen. Her mother had made sure she was good at cleaning even before she came of age and could use magic for household tasks. In this house, though, it seemed hard to keep the place clean for too long.
Taking advantage of a little bit of peace and quiet while everyone was out in the garden, Lavender was mixing up a chocolate cake. Some scones were already on the cooling rack and Lavender snagged one for herself, the smells in the kitchen making her hungry. She was reaching for her cake tin when Trevor scampered into the kitchen, all muddy paws and an excitedly wagging tail. Lavender groaned, seeing the trail of mud that the dog had brought with him, though Trevor seemed utterly oblivious to the mess. He sat at her feet, tail thumping against the cupboard door.
Lavender scowled, leaving the wooden spoon in the mixing bowl as she heard laughter and then the unmistakable sound of tiny human feet running across the kitchen floor. “Oof!” Six-year-old Arthur hugged her tightly, nearly knocking her into the counter when he caught her by surprise.
“There’s frogspawn in the pond, Mummy! Daddy was showing us. And Trevor was chasing the stick. I can throw the stick further than Rosie, but that’s because she’s only little. Daddy says I should be a Beater because I’ve got a good arm. Do you think I could play Quidditch for England like Daddy did?”
“Not until you’re older,” Lavender said distractedly, seeing even more mud on the floor now. It was times like this that she was especially glad for magic.
“Careful up the step,” a voice said from the garden.
“No!” Lavender called. “You stay right there, Ron Weasley!” She put her hand on Artie’s shoulder, guiding him back to the door. “All of you need to wipe your feet or I’m not letting you back into the house.”
Little Rosie had one foot on the step, her hand held by her daddy’s much larger one. She tipped her head up to look at Lavender. “Frogspoor!” she said with a broad smile.
“Yes, Artie was telling me about the frogspawn, darling. But I still want you to wipe your feet, okay?” Lavender glanced at Ron. “You, too. You’re meant to be setting an example.”
Ron leant across the threshold, kissing her just below her ear. He gave her a sheepish grin. “Sorry, love.”
Lavender narrowed her eyes. It was incredibly difficult to be annoyed with him when he kissed her just there.
Artie eagerly wiped his feet on the mat before dashing back into the house. “Go and wash your hands!” Lavender called after him. “With soap!”
“He takes after me,” Ron said.
“I know.”
Ron smiled, still holding Rosie’s hand as she wiped her feet in little jerky motions on the mat. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best she could do. “Good girl,” he said as Lavender bent down to pick her up. She cuddled against her mother, Ron pulling her hand away when she went to stick her thumb into her mouth. “Not until you’ve washed your hands, sweetheart.”
He wiped his own feet, the garden rather muddy after the recent rain. “It smells good. You’ve been baking. Anything good?”
“I’ve made some scones. And I’m just about to finish a chocolate cake.”
“Brilliant.” Ron closed the door and ducked his head for a proper kiss, then kissed the top of Rosie’s head, stroking her wispy red hair. “Anyone would think you had a bit of a craving,” he murmured, hand drifting down her stomach.
Lavender rolled her eyes. “Maybe just a little one.” She swatted his hand away, going back to the worktop to pick up her wand. She flicked it at the floor a couple of times, adjusting Rosie on her hip as the mud disappeared from the floor; she would clean it more thoroughly later, but it would do for now.
She sat Rosie on a clean spot on the worktop and Rosie obediently held her hands out, letting Lavender wash them with a cloth before she held them under the running tap. Hands dried, Rosie reached out to be picked up again. She pulled gently on Lavender’s hair. “Can I have a biscuit?” she whispered, leaning in close.
“What sort of biscuit?”
“Chocolate.”
“Chocolate?” Lavender brushed her nose against Rosie’s.
“Yeah,” she breathed. “There’s some in the tin.” Then, she remembered and added, “Pleeeeease.”
Lavender looked at the clock. “Alright. But just one. And you’ve got to promise to eat all your dinner, okay?”
“Okay.”
There was a crunch and Lavender looked up. Ron already had a chocolate biscuit in his mouth: he offered the tin to them. Rosie pressed one finger to her lips, brow furrowing in concentration as she tried to decide exactly which one of the biscuits she wanted. She finally picked one and began to suck on it.
“Am I allowed more than one?” Ron asked through a mouthful of biscuit.
“I don’t know,” said Lavender. “Have you been a good boy?”
“Yes. I’m not going to be bad until later.” He waggled her eyebrows at her and Lavender flushed, taking a biscuit for herself.
Trevor yapped, standing at their feet. Rosie looked down at him, then offered him her biscuit.
“Trevor’s not allowed chocolate,” Lavender reminded her gently, about to suggest that Trevor have one of his own special biscuits when they were interrupted by a yell.
“DADDY!” Arthur came running into the kitchen, nearly skidding over in his socks. “There’s a spider in the bath!” he announced pointing.
Lavender snorted, trying not to laugh as Ron turned pale. “Here,” she said, handing Rosie to Ron; she clung to her daddy with a contented sigh. “I’ll come and help.” She gave Ron’s cheek a quick kiss. “And clean Trevor up while I’m gone. I don’t want him tracking mud through the house.”