Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

One Month At A Time	By : Kya Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2582 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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The day after Ron had sent his letter to his mother, the woman began sending him all sort of baby clothes. Not to mention other baby supplies, including: Blankets, bibs, cloth diapers, two bassinets, two playpens, a double stroller, and much more. It didn’t take the red head long to realize that everything was second hand (or possibly third or fourth), and painted with the names of every Weasley child. As the emotions, and reality, washed over him, Ron had to sit down before his knees gave out. Settling himself on his knees, Ron clutched one of the hand knit blankets his mother had sent, absently inhaling the smell of The Burrow. For once he was happy he lived alone, not wanting anyone, even his best friend, to see the tears that were welling. Shaking fingers touched every name, every bit of damage, remembering bits and pieces of his childhood. He hoped he would be as good a parent, or at least half as good, as the two amazing people who had raised him.

“I may be single,” he mumbled to himself. “But I’m not alone.” He knew he would never have a shortage of loving people willing to help, not with a family like his. Not to mention Harry, who would no doubt be the one supporting Ron and his new family.

“You’ll be happy,” he said softly, glancing at the moving picture of his growing sons. “I promise.” Baby supplies were packed away with much more care than Ron had shown for his own belongings. Everything was organized with a labelling charm, and sorted by stages of growth.

“Hermione can’t say I’m not getting organized,” he chuckled.

“Mum told me to expect them any time now.”

“Expect who?” Harry glanced up from his broom, though he didn’t stop polishing the already clean handle.

“The twins!”

“Fred and George?”

“The babies, you twit.”

“They aren’t due for another two months,” was the calm response, green eyes returning to the broom.

“She said twins come early,” Ron explained. The red head was constantly moving and adjusting his home again and again, swearing that it needed to be perfect.

“Fred and George were nearly three months early,” he continued, fussing with the couch Harry was currently sitting on, not that his friend seemed bothered by how it kept moving from place to place. “She said they had to be kept in a ‘womb bubble’ until they made it to nine months.”

“Womb bubble?” Harry asked, lifting an eyebrow and finally setting his broom aside. “Aren’t Muggle twins born early all the time, though?” Ron stared at him, causing the dark haired young man to flush as he remembered just how little his friend really knew about non-magical folk.

“Anyways,” Ron began once more, ignoring the awkward silence that had passed between the two of them. “The twins will be born at St. Mungo’s and the Healers will be there to make sure everything goes the way it needs to.”

“So it’s time to make plans with “Lexx” about the birth and all the paperwork?” Harry mused. “Do we even know how to handle all of that?”

“Dad’s had everything in place and ready since our blonde ‘friend’ made such a stunning impression on my family. The Ministry makes us sign a lot of things, asks a lot of questions to make sure the kids will have a good life, then makes a ruling as to how much “Lexx” will be paying in child support.” Ron slowly ticked the items off on one hand as he explained, making sure he didn’t miss anything.

“We aren’t going to ask him directly for money, but if the Ministry says he has to pay, then I’m not going to complain.”

“Have you finally started thinking of names?”

“Arturo and Zennith,” Ron grinned, ignoring Harry’s once again lifted eyebrow.

“Art? You’re really bestowing ‘Art’ as a nickname?” Harry gaped. “That’s just mean and uncalled for!”

“No,” Ron sighed, rolling his eyes. “It will be ‘Turo,’ and it’s for dad.”

“It’s a weird name,” Harry told him honestly. “Both of them are, but Arturo makes my tongue curl up in protest.” Ron scowled at his best friend.

“I’ll only ever call him Turo,” Harry warned the red head. “And when he’s old enough, I’ll make sure he knows just how much I pity him. I’ll be the best godfather ever.”

“Godfather?”

“Well, I assumed...” Harry lowered his eyes. “I’m your best mate and all...” Ron stared at him for several moments before breaking into deep, belly constricting laughter, the sound startling his friend.

“Of course you’re going to be their godfather!” he laughed, needing to lean on one of the arm chairs in order to keep himself upright until his laughter diminished. “I just didn’t think you would beat me to it!” Harry leaned back against the couch, propping his legs on the coffee table with a sigh.

“Kids are expensive,” he mumbled, breaking the moment. “Even with help from friends, and family.”

“I know,” Ron said with a glare, not wanting to once more be faced with the reality of how poor he currently was. “I’ve been looking for jobs, but I wasn’t exactly amazing at anything in school, and they look at your grades.”

“You fly pretty well.”

“Flying isn’t a job, unless it’s Quidditch, and we both know I’m not going to be talking to any talent scouts in my future.”

“Flying Coach is a profession,” Harry reminded him.

“And where would I find a job like that, huh?” Ron asked, lowering himself into the arm chair.

“Hogwarts.”

“But Madam Hooch...”

“Is retiring,” Harry finished. “Come September, they’re going to need a new teacher.”

“You think I can teach snot nosed first years?” Ron chuckled. “I hated them when we were in school!”

“But you enjoyed having power as a Prefect,” Harry teased. “And that’s even better when you’re a teacher and you can dock points.”

“So... Where do I apply?” Ron asked slowly after sitting for several minutes in complete silence, the idea rolling around in his head. He was surprised when Harry handed him a rolled, and sealed, tube of parchment.

“I talked to Headmistress McGonagall last week. You start on September first,” the dark haired male said with a grin. When Ron made no move to take the acceptance letter, Harry rolled his eyes and tossed it at him, the roll bouncing off Ron’s stunned face.

“I vouched for you, so you better take it,” he told his friend. “Because I told her that if you, for some stupid and insane reason, said no, then I’ll quit my job and take the position myself. And you know how much I love the job I have now.” With Ron still staring at him much like he had been petrified, Harry gathered his broom and waxing supplies before standing from the couch.

“It’s a good job, Ron. Seventy five Galleons a month and floo access so you can come home every night. Don’t turn this down.” Broom held close, Harry tossed a handful of floo powder into the fireplace and vanished from sight in a blaze of green flames, leaving Ron alone with his thoughts.
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One Month At A Time