Weasley Family Fallout

Chapter 34: A Much-Needed Heart-to-Heart

The crow of a rooster could barely be heard over the pouring rain. Arthur's breath rose in a fog in front of him. Warmth instantly washed over him when he stepped into the barn. He removed the hood of his charmed cloak from his head. If it wasn't for the rain-repelling charm, he would be absolutely drenched. Over the past week, he had taken to helping Gramps with the morning chores, and every time, it seemed it wanted to rain. That Saturday morning, they had already tended to the sheep, milked the half-dozen cows, fed the chickens, and fixed a hole in the fence.

"Take the cows some hay," Gramps said from behind Arthur. Sid the Sheepdog trotted past before he stopped and shook, water flying off him in all directions.

Knowing Gramps would lecture him again on the importance of physical labor, Arthur did not bother taking out his wand. He lifted the fifty-pound square bale and carried it across the barn before tossing it in with the cows.

Gramps sat down on a stool, Sid curling up on the floor next to him, and waited for Arthur to rejoin him. "I've been enjoying you helping out," he said as Arthur took a seat on another bale of hay.

"You have a lot to do on a daily basis," Arthur said. "When the older boys are on break, you should get them to help out some, or at least start using magic. One of these days, you're going to get hurt if you don't."

"That's not what I meant. What I meant was I'm enjoying spending time with you," Gramps rephrased. "You know, I haven't seen you much recently. The war kept you busy, then you were avoiding us."

"Who said I was avoiding you?" Arthur interrupted with a cock of his head.

Gramps snorted. "Your actions."

The younger Weasley's ears and neck grew red.

"And since you've been here, you always get home rather late," Gramps continued.

"Nine or ten o'clock is not late," Arthur pointed out.

"It is when you're over a hundred years old and wake up before dawn every morning," Gramps chuckled.

"I've had a lot of work to do..."

"Are you going to that counselling whatchamacallit Kingsley told you about?" he asked.

"I've been going on Monday and Friday," Arthur said absent-mindedly as he watched a small bird hop around on the edge of the hayloft.

"Is it helping?"

"I don't know, Gramps," Arthur snapped. "I've only been a few times."

Gramps leaned back against a post his stool sat in front of. "What are you doing the other nights?" he inquired innocently.

"Working."

"You're not –"

Arthur tore is attention away from the bird. "No, Gramps," he interrupted again. "I'm not drinking." And he was telling the truth. It had been a challenge, but he somehow managed to refrain. Most nights, he was stuck in his office with paperwork. Sure, he could bring it home, but that would only give his grandparents more opportunity to have a deep discussion with him about his life and recent behavior; he'd already had enough of that on Halloween.

The gray-haired wizard shrugged. "You don't talk to us anymore, Son."

Arthur pulled out a straw of hay. He idly began to break it into small pieces.

Gramps watched his grandson closely. "Why won't you talk to us?" he asked softly.

Arthur concentrated on his task.

Gramps stated, "I think it is past time we had that little chat."

Immediately, Arthur's eyes snapped up to his grandfather. "What chat?" he asked nervously, knowing full well what Gramps was talking about.