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Harry and Ron sat on the back porch of the Burrow, butterbeer in hand, watching the sun dip below the horizon. The weekly Sunday lunch had gone off without a hitch, save for George 'accidentally' enchanting Bill's chair to move away every time he tried to sit down. The laughter of their children and their nieces and nephews echoed in the garden, but for now, the two best friends enjoyed a rare moment of peace in their otherwise hectic lives.
A shrill voice called from the garden. “DAD! Uncle Harry! Watch this!” Rose and Lily zoomed past on broomsticks, leaving a trail of dust and their brothers in their wake.
"I see you bought the new Skyborn model?" Harry asked, watching his nine-year-old goddaughter try out the latest broomstick on the market.
"Yeah, well. A reward for receiving the highest marks in school:"
"I think you got the short end of the stick," Harry quipped. "Promising Rosie -"
"Don't I know it!" Ron began, swirling his butterbeer thoughtfully, “She's got Hermione's brain. It was evident. I just can't deny her."
Harry snorted.
"Like you are any better!"
Harry had to agree to that.
Ron leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. "Rosie comes up to me a few months ago and says she wants a new broom. I said, ‘Ask your mum.’ And before I can even think about she's ready to counter. She even talks like Hermione. She says, ‘Dad, don’t you think it’s statistically probable that my grades would improve with a more aerodynamic broom?’ What am I supposed to say to that?!”
“‘No’?” Harry offered weakly.
“I tried! And I said, I was promising to ‘think about it.’ Which automatically meant 'it depends on your school grades'. Next thing I know, I'm halfway to the Quidditch shop, with Hermione giving me that look.”
Harry grimaced. “Oof. That’s a double knockout right there.”
Ron snorted. “You too, huh?”
Harry grinned. “Lily-Lu does the same thing. She doesn’t even bother with logic, really. She goes straight for the jugular. ‘Daddy, please.’ New dress robes, a kitten, even those ridiculous self-stirring children's cauldrons. Whatever she wants, I can’t say no.”
“I swear, Hermione’s been training Rosie since she was a baby. They’re like twin Snitches, just darting around, making me feel guilty for saying no.”
"The worst part is their eyes," Harry groaned. "Lily-Lu does this thing where she makes them all big and watery—"
"Like a baby niffler?" Ron interjected.
"Exactly! And then her lower lip starts trembling—"
"Well, you can't argue with that," Ron agreed, then frowned. “A kitten? You already have a cat and two owls.”
“I know!” Harry groaned. “And when I reminded her, she said, ‘Mr. Nibbles is old and lonely. He needs a friend.’ She didn’t even ask—she just informed me. Atleast, I got her to compromise - But then I was standing in Magical Menagerie holding a puffskein named Mr. Floofykins.”
Ron howled with laughter, nearly spilling his drink. “Mr. Floofykins?! Oh, mate, you’re so done for.”
Harry leaned back, grinning. “Says the guy who’s bought a Skyborn.”
Ron sighed dramatically, long and loud, the sound of defeat.
They sat in silence for a moment, united in their shared experience of fatherhood.
“But seriously,” Ron said, breaking the quiet, “don’t you ever wonder if we’re spoiling them too much?”
Harry nodded slowly. “Yeah. I do worry about that. But then I think about Dudley's spoiled childhood and realise that we are still in control."
Ron sighed, a small smile creeping onto his face. “Yeah, you’re right. Still, I’m not going to be buying anything new for Rosie until she leaves for Hogwarts.”
“Good luck with that,” Harry said, taking another sip of butterbeer.
“We’re doomed.”
Harry nodded. “Completely.”
They sat in silence for a moment before Ron added, “But at least we’ve got butterbeer.”
“Cheers, mate.”
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Ginny and Hermione were having a similar conversation, albeit with far more amusement.
“Honestly,” Hermione said, sipping her tea, “Ron thinks he’s such a pushover, but he’s practically training Rose to see right through him. I can just see her thought process, ‘I just have to wait until Dad’s distracted, and I can ask him anything!’”
Ginny laughed, leaning against the counter. “Same with Harry. Lily’s got him so twisted around her finger, she could probably convince him to break into Gringotts again if she wanted.”
“Oh, don’t give her ideas,” Hermione groaned. “Although I do have to admit, it’s a little entertaining to watch Ron flounder. He tried to say no to Rose about that broom, and she countered with, ‘But Dad, didn’t you say I was the best Chaser in the family?’”
“Harry’s no better. Last week, Lily wanted a cat. He started with a firm ‘no.’ Five minutes later, they were in Magical Menagerie, and now we have Mr. Floofykins the puffskein shedding all over the house. Which Harry later realised was her plan all along. She started big, knowing he’d negotiate down. She’s basically running a business.”
“At least Harry pretends to start with ‘no.’ Ron skips that step entirely," Hermione said with a sly grin.
"Honestly, the girls know if they want something, they only need to ask their fathers first. Easy target. And if we say no after all the deal is done, we are made to be the villains!"
The two women exchanged a knowing look.
“Speaking of the fathers,” Hermione said, peeking out the window at Harry and Ron. “Look at them. Butterbeer in hand, pretending they’re in charge of anything.”
Ginny laughed. “If they do want to stay in control and appear strict, they should perhaps start calling them Lily and Rose instead of Lily-Lu and Rosie! It’s like handing them the wand and saying, ‘Here, hex me.'”
Hermione raised her teacup. “No arguments there."
Back on the porch, Harry and Ron stared into their second round of butterbeers, utterly unaware they were the punchline of their wives’ conversation.
“We’re doing our best, though, right?” Ron asked.
“Absolutely,” Harry replied, draining his glass. “We’re great dads.”
They clinked glasses once more as chaos erupted in the garden.
"So, what time are we leaving for the Muggle amusement park?"
"Ten. Lily-Lu said we need to beat the queues."