Men - R/Hr - PG-13
Title: Men
Rating: PG-13
Words: 500
Author's Note (if any):

Prompt: 'Talisman'
Drabble length: 100 - 500
Additional Conditions: Drabbles must be a Daddy!Ron drabble




Men
****
"I didn't know the new Quidditch Almanak was out," Harry said, taking the book from him. "JG Lockhart, Curses, Lucks and Talismans?"

Ron grunted.

"But... this isn't a book on Quidditch."

"I know that," Ron said, with dignity.

"And this isn't for work," Harry pointed out, "because you're not on a case."

"I know that, too."

"Because you're playing mummies and daddies, with Hermione."

"We're not playing," Ron protested. "We've had a baby."

"We?"

Ron ignored him.

"And it's my responsibility to… be responsible for it."

"Her."

"Her."

"It's really not that big a deal," Harry said comfortingly. "Relax and enjoy it."

Ron glared at him.

"This from the man who had an actual panic attack, eighteen months ago," he protested.

"Voice of experience, then," Harry said breezily. "Second time around and I have no idea what the big fuss was all about."

"Easy for you to say," Ron muttered.

"Yeah, well, second time."

"Boys."

"What?"

"You have two boys," Ron said. "You have no idea what I'm going through."

Harry blinked.

"Apart from calculating the angle of urination, during a nappy change," he said, "I can't see that girls are any more complicated."

Ron grunted.

"And I know you have familiarised yourself with the female... anatomy, so we're just talking about a difference of scale, here," Harry went on. "And besides, if you didn't enjoy complicated women, you wouldn't have spent three years trying to ravish Hermione, or eight years doing utterly unspeakable things to her anatomy."

"Exactly," Ron said darkly.

"Exactly, what?"

"You have boys," Ron said, "and nothing to worry about."

"What nothing?"

"Men."

"Men?" Harry asked. "What men?"

"Men, out there," Ron said, gesturing to the windows.

Harry looked at the charming view of their wives and new babies, sitting on a blanket in the sunny garden and watching James picking daisies.

"Jamie and Al?" he asked.

"Very possibly," Ron hissed, glaring at his best mate.

"Ron?"

"There are... men... out there," he nodded at the garden, "who are gonna want to... I know what men want to... I know what I do to Hermione. And I have a daughter, now."

Harry bit his lip.

"She's six weeks old," he said.

"I know that."

"And you are… reading up on talismans, to protect her from Men, in twenty years time."

"Some of these spells can only be performed," he snatched back his book and leafed through it, "on a Wednesday, when the moon is passing through the ten first degrees of Gemini or Scorpio."

"Still," Harry said, taking it back, closing it and putting it on the coffee table. "I'm sure Hermione is on top of this sort of thing."

"Yeah," Ron said, nodding slowly.

"And you’ve got fifteen years to get it sorted, after all," Harry said comfortingly.

"Fifteen?" Ron gasped. "You said twenty."

"Um... fifteen, twenty," Harry said. "Does it matter?"

"It bloody does," Ron moaned. "Oh, Merlin, Harry, remember what we were like at fifteen?"

He grabbed his book and opened it, grimly.