Hello, Readers! The idea for this story came to me in several, seperate manners. First off, it is based somewhat in the reality of growing up in a big family. While my four brothers and sisters are a couple of kids short of Ron's six, I think I may equal him in the cousins department, perhaps even outstrip him a bit, as Arthur's supposedly got only two brothers and the only Prewett siblings we know of are the late Gideon and Fabian. Either way, families are alike in many ways, when you come down to it. Especially in their willingness to point young relatives setting off down the road of life in the right direction.

In this aspect, Ron's family is no different. Though we, the readers, may have seen wedding bells in the future for Ron and Hermione very early on in the course of the series, that doesn't stop Ron from developing a moderately serious case of pre-wedding jitters. Seeking to ease his fears, he seeks advice from his family...and finds each of the Weasleys is eager to contribute his or her own view on the matter.

The format of Ron receiving advice from each Weasley in turn is inspired by the incredibly talented Pinky Brown, whose Ronfics are without equal and whose latest story, He's Leaving Home, is a bit of an inspiration for this story. Check it out, Readers-an adorable, Hogwarts-bound Ron receives a bevy of advice there as well!

Well, I don't wish to carry on like this forever, Readers. Bien merci for putting up with my little monologue and enjoy the story!

You'll Know What To Do

At long last (too long, according to those who had watched them over the years), the day was near. More than near; the day was, for all practical purposes, here. In a little less than twenty-four hours, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger would be man and wife. The Burrow, having existed in a considerable flurry of activity for the past several days, had calmed down quite a bit, largely because no destination could reasonably be expected to sustain such an activity level indefinitely. The wedding presents had been stacked neatly in Molly and Arthur's bedroom. Siblings, previously scattered between their own homes and workplaces, were arriving in a steady stream with spouses and children in tow. The Burrow itself, inside and out, had been cleaned to meet Molly's high expectations. Ron had done a thorough cleaning—more accurately, a ransacking—of his bedroom, throwing out the things he wouldn't need in his new life as a married man and packing the rest off to his new home—mine and Hermione's new home, he corrected himself.

Looking around the mostly-empty room, still inhabited by a couple of boxes and Ron's bed, made up with a bland set of sheets Molly usually saved for guests, an unsettled feeling crept up into Ron's stomach. This is it, he thought, as of tomorrow, I'll be a guest in Mum's house. I'm off on my own.

And as suddenly as he had finished this thought, it hit him. He was a man now, even moreso than he had steadily become since coming of age. He would have to leave all that was familiar and strike off into the unknown, Hermione by his side. A sense of nervous excitement he hadn't properly felt in these doses since his departure for Hogwarts stole over him.

Uneasy, Ron headed absentmindedly down the stairs. It would be suppertime soon; perhaps putting some food in his stomach would calm that restless feeling. As he walked vaguely through the sitting room, however, Ron decided on an even better solution.

Arthur, having returned from work not long ago, was settled in his usual chair by the fire, reading the Evening Prophet quietly. Ron felt irresistibly like a little boy again as he faced his father, still hidden behind his newspaper, waiting to be noticed.

Arthur lowered the paper, smiling. "Well, Ron," he said in greeting, "everything packed? Are you all ready for your big day tomorrow?"

Ron swallowed painfully. "Y-yeah, I guess…" Why does my mouth have to go dry now? He swallowed again.

Arthur seemed to read his mind. "Nervous, son?" Ron nodded mutely, unsure of what exactly to say.

Arthur's smile broadened and he beckoned to the edge of the sofa. Ron sat down, eyes fixed on his father, who had folded up his newspaper thoughtfully, as though giving himself time to consider his response.

"Well, Ron," he said again, folding his fingers in his lap, "I've been married to your mother for a long time. Being married is the second hardest job in the world." Noting Ron's confused expression, Arthur elaborated. "Raising kids is the hardest."

"How'd you do it, Dad?" asked Ron, who seemed to have finally found his voice, though it came out slightly squeaky, as though it hadn't been used in a long while and had only recently been removed from a dusty box in someone's attic.

"Well, as you know, your mother and I didn't have a big wedding. We were in the middle of a war, and we decided…who knew what was going to happen? So we eloped, fairly soon after leaving Hogwarts. But the next time I saw my father, he gave me some very good, general advice. 'Arthur,' he said, 'Arthur, if you're going to stay married to this girl, and maybe even have a family with her, you need to know one thing. One thing that will make all the difference between a happy marriage and a miserable one.' And that's the same advice I'm going to give to you, son."

"What is it?" asked Ron eagerly, reminding Arthur irresistibly of a fourteen-year-old Ron, begging to know what special event was taking place at Hogwarts that year, or a five-year-old Ron, jumping to see if he could catch a glimpse of the bag of sweets Arthur had picked up on the way home from work…a rare treat, hidden behind his back to surprise his children.

"She's always right," said Arthur simply, causing Ron's brows to knit in confusion. "Hermione," he specified, and, seeing Ron opening his mouth to speak, he cut him off. "No, listen to me, son—if I had insisted on having the last word in every single disagreement I had with your mother, our marriage wouldn't have lasted a week. Think about it."

Obediently, Ron thought about it. His mother was a forceful personality, any child growing up in the Weasley household could attest to that. From his own personal experience, Ron knew that going along with whatever his mother happened to want at the time (or, at least pretending to) avoided a lot more trouble than forging one's own path. He thought back to the various disagreements his parents had had over the years. Had Arthur ever pressed an advantage? Had he ever stuck it out to the end? Or was Molly the inevitable victor?

"But Dad," began Ron, instantly coming to the decision that he did not want to spend the remaining decades of his life as Hermione's yes-man—or, like his father, seek refuge in the shed in the garden, tinkering with Muggle rubbish. "I don't want to always be wrong! Come on, Hermione's smart and all, but she can't always be right!"

Ron had expected his father to argue, or even to cut him off again, but Arthur merely nodded. He raised an eyebrow thoughtfully and sat for a moment or two in what was evidently a pensive silence. Ron picked unconsciously at a pull in the fabric of the arm of the sofa. Yanking out the stray thread, he was dismayed to see what had previously been a nearly microscopic hole grow large enough for Ron to stick the edge of his pinky finger in. Mum's gonna kill me!

Arthur eyed the hole in the sofa. "You see, son," he said with the hint of a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. "That's exactly your problem. That hole was a tiny little thing no one but your mother would've noticed. But you go picking at it like that, and you're going to end up with a much bigger problem than the one you started with. Leave it alone. Let her be right. What does it matter, anyway, who's right and who's wrong? Marriage isn't a Quidditch match. No one's keeping score."

Eyeing Ron's slight look of continued confusion, Arthur leaned in towards his youngest son, once a little boy coming to him for advice about dealing with his siblings, later a bigger boy seeking advice on how to deal with his friends, with girls. But here he sat, a man now, seeking his father's advice on how to deal with his wife. Arthur felt his heart sink just a tiny bit, despite his happiness for Ron. His little boy, all grown up, about to be married.

"I know what you and Hermione are like, Ron…the bickering, and all. And you're right, you can't always be wrong, just like you can't always be right. But what I'm trying to ask you is, would you rather be proved right, at the expense of Hermione's feelings, or let the little things go? What's more important to you?"

What's more important to me? Well that's easy, really…"You know Hermione's the most important thing in the world to me, Dad," Ron insisted. "I'd do anything to make her happy. I mean, even if she does drive me mad sometimes…I can't even imagine what it would be like to be without her. I don't want to imagine it."

Arthur nodded. "I know you don't, son. You don't need my advice. I know you two will be just fine. You'll know what to do."

Ron, however, wasn't so sure. What does he mean, 'I'll know what to do'? I haven't a clue as to how to be married! I really don't want to mess this up…

His thoughts took him out of his body, out of his house, into the deep recesses of his mind. His feet, on the other hand, carried him into the kitchen, where his mother was cooking supper.

Reviews are the chocolate on my pretzel, the peanut butter on my bagel and the roux in my étouffée. Please review!

Next up: Molly's advice...as if you couldn't see it coming, with Ron wandering into her territory like that!

On va se 'oir...soon, I hope,

Delilah