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The Short End of the Stick

"They broke their stick into six pieces. Ron often wondered which of their children got the shortest piece."

It was never supposed to be like this. The way it was.

Ron was born into a family of many children, Hermione was born into a family of only one.

So, when the time came to have a family of their own, they were to compromise.

While he loved his family fiercely, Ron did not want his children feeling any of the same emotions he had – unimportant, picked upon, in the shadows.

And Hermione, the same thing – lonely, friendless, in the constant spotlight of her parents.

Now, of course, both of them as children were loved. But Ron believed he could have used a bit more love. Hermione, possibly a bit less.

The most logical explanation would be to have a couple of children. Two, maybe three. It would have been the perfect amount, for everyone involved. There would be no lonely only child nor would there be a forgotten child in the midst of a pack.

However.

The planned two children turned nearly immediately into three, not even a full year after the birth of their first son. "Maybe just one more," gave a fourth two years after that, and then, when the "just one more" child was three, a fifth pregnancy yielded a sixth child, unintentional two times over.

Each with matching red locks of hair in some spectacular feat in genetics, most with brown eyes (only two with blue), and only one without the slightest hint of their mother's curls (although none of them, save for the younger boy, got the full brunt of her hair texture. For that, she was grateful.)

More than anything else, it scared Ron. Which one would be the left out one? The quietest, the smallest, the ones born by accident? The ones who were loud or bossy? The ones born close together, or one of the twins? One of the girls? The boys? The ones who surely would not be in Gryffindor when the time came to go to Hogwarts?

He noticed that there was a pecking order to the children, entirely naturally they fell in an order of power and influence over and under one another. He couldn't do anything about it, but still, it made Ron sad.

It was all too much.

Now, of course it was different than when he was growing up. Ron alone made more money in a year than what his own father made in ten, never mind counting Hermione. The children never needed to worry about needing something or having to use hand-me-down robes, or to wonder if they would wind up being able to afford such-and-such item that year.

But there were still so many of them.

Ron sometimes mixed them up. Called them by the wrong name, forgot who liked which thing, which child was supposed to do what at what time. He was ashamed by it. Sometimes they all seemed like they were the same person, in varying heights and attitudes and decibel levels. Sometimes, despite an eight year difference between the eldest and the youngest, they all even seemed the same age.

He didn't want his children to be full of insecurities. He didn't want any one of them to have any reason to think another child was better. He didn't want a child to fall in the shadows. He didn't want any of them to be jealous of any of their siblings.

Ron believed he was the child who got the shortest end of the sick in his family.

He and Hermione broke their stick into six pieces, trying to best they could to make them equal sizes. Even so, Ron often wondered which of his children got the shortest piece.

Or maybe, a sixth of the stick wasn't enough for any of them.

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A/N: There will be one chapter for each child, to further get into their characters. I am afraid Ron may turn out to be a wee bit OOC, but I'm hoping you'll be able to see his side of the story, why he would be thinking things that he is going to think. If you liked it, an introductory chapter though it may be, please drop a review!