Canon-Compliant II
Oct. 26th, 2008 07:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sgt_majoretteHarry and Ron, amazingly, settle into office work quite happily. After revolutionizing the Auror Academy and becoming Head of the entire Division, Harry fills his corner office with Wizard Wheezes, dart-boards, a basketball hoop, a miniature putting green. Ron, Senior Deputy Head (Consulting), drops in occasionally to play with Harry's toys, his own office being entirely taken up by a holographic 3-D modeling system invented by his bossy wife (when she was his annoying girlfriend) which allows him to plot logistics and tactics like playing wizard chess, except he can do it from his big fancy reclining chair, feet on his desk, lazily twirling his wand.
It is a testament to their skill, experience and dedication that their jobs are no longer terribly interesting. Ron, in fact, only comes in once or twice a week, as a rule, and mostly to hang out with Harry. He saved up his Sickles from working part time at George's shop and fulfilled a childhood dream, buying Fortescue's long-shuttered ice-cream parlor and reopening it as "Florian's Goodies, a division of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes". All of the presumably late Mr. Fortescue's specialties are still available, although with an increased tendency to explode. Wealth has not spoiled Ron Weasley: he's still very silly.
Of The Golden Trio's five children, only James likes to visit Dad at work. He bounces off the walls, climbs up the file cabinets, pulls the books off the shelves and builds forts, snoops in Dad's desk. Every time he comes home from a visit with Dad, Ginny holds him upside down by his ankles and shakes him until all the things he's nicked from Harry's office come hailing out of his pockets. Then she swats him upside the head, and he runs off laughing. (Physical discipline makes Harry cringe. But James needs a firm hand. Solemn, neurotic little Albus is Harry's child.)
Rose has a quill and clipboard just like Mummy's, and follows her around the office with the same swotty expression; all the secretaries thought it was perfectly adorable until Rose became articulate enough to ask pointed questions and stare with pursed lips while waiting for an answer.
The children don't at all mind being left with grandparents, even Rose and Hugo Granger, who give them sugar-free Muggle treats and let them watch television, answer the telephone when telemarketers call, and send e-mails to cartoon characters. Lily, an indifferent but enthusiastic flyer, is a terror on the skateboard: she and Hugo are always covered in scrapes and bruises.
Ginny never learned household skills, and Molly never tried to teach her. "She's a smart girl and a tough girl. If she needs to, she'll figure it out." She not-so-secretly hoped her only daughter, the first Weasley girl in generations, wouldn't need to.
The only domestic chore Ginny ever did was embroider some tea-towels the minute Harry produced the ring. Hermione raised an eyebrow, but said nothing: she'd mellowed. And Winky was overcome with gratitude, it had to be admitted.
It is a testament to their skill, experience and dedication that their jobs are no longer terribly interesting. Ron, in fact, only comes in once or twice a week, as a rule, and mostly to hang out with Harry. He saved up his Sickles from working part time at George's shop and fulfilled a childhood dream, buying Fortescue's long-shuttered ice-cream parlor and reopening it as "Florian's Goodies, a division of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes". All of the presumably late Mr. Fortescue's specialties are still available, although with an increased tendency to explode. Wealth has not spoiled Ron Weasley: he's still very silly.
Of The Golden Trio's five children, only James likes to visit Dad at work. He bounces off the walls, climbs up the file cabinets, pulls the books off the shelves and builds forts, snoops in Dad's desk. Every time he comes home from a visit with Dad, Ginny holds him upside down by his ankles and shakes him until all the things he's nicked from Harry's office come hailing out of his pockets. Then she swats him upside the head, and he runs off laughing. (Physical discipline makes Harry cringe. But James needs a firm hand. Solemn, neurotic little Albus is Harry's child.)
Rose has a quill and clipboard just like Mummy's, and follows her around the office with the same swotty expression; all the secretaries thought it was perfectly adorable until Rose became articulate enough to ask pointed questions and stare with pursed lips while waiting for an answer.
The children don't at all mind being left with grandparents, even Rose and Hugo Granger, who give them sugar-free Muggle treats and let them watch television, answer the telephone when telemarketers call, and send e-mails to cartoon characters. Lily, an indifferent but enthusiastic flyer, is a terror on the skateboard: she and Hugo are always covered in scrapes and bruises.
Ginny never learned household skills, and Molly never tried to teach her. "She's a smart girl and a tough girl. If she needs to, she'll figure it out." She not-so-secretly hoped her only daughter, the first Weasley girl in generations, wouldn't need to.
The only domestic chore Ginny ever did was embroider some tea-towels the minute Harry produced the ring. Hermione raised an eyebrow, but said nothing: she'd mellowed. And Winky was overcome with gratitude, it had to be admitted.
