Preface:
This story takes place a couple of years after the war. This is a family humour Oneshot featuring the Weasleys and the Potters.

Dedicated to:
_voldem_ort in hopes to make you smile. Stay strong cutie!

Author's Notes:
None of the words written below is meant to offend anyone. Know that the country mentioned here is my country and I would never insult it. Everything written here is for humor purposes and those only. Please don't be offended by anything. In fact, some of the events are inspired by own life.

A sunny day with refreshing breeze that brought along the anxiety of leaving your home.

Not the feeling I'd like. Doesn't matter if it's someone else was the one who was going out of station. Even if the someone else is your father-in-law.

Yep, you guessed it right.

Arthur Weasley was leaving Burrow to go on a Muggle Inspection raid, or whatever it was called, to India. There was actually no problem with it but you see, we, the Weasleys, just might have a little bit of a dramatic flare in us.

"Dadda! The goo 'uide!" Albus flailed his arms around, knocking the glasses off of my face and rendering me partially blind. His tiny face was a blur now but I did not hear the shattering of the loyal aid instrument. I guess—

"Gotcha! Al, sweetheart, you shouldn't knock your Dadda's glasses off, okay? Or he won't be able to see us."

—My wife caught it.

"Weally?"

My vision came back full force when she put it on my face. "Really," I replied, wrinkling my nose to get it in place. My arms were full, and we were in the public to try using my toes instead. People would think I was a monkey if hopped on one leg and tried kicking it up.

"'orry, Dadda!"

"It's okay, son." The line was getting really old.

"The goo 'uide! Grandy will need those!" he clapped rather enthusiastically that I had to crane my neck back to save my glasses more trouble. Since Mr Weasley was going to an entirely different country, in an airplane at that, the Weasley siblings had gotten all thoughtful. Each of them agreed to buy one type of souvenir. Note that I told type. It doesn't exclude quantity of the same souvenir. Ginny, Albus and I were currently looking for guidebooks.

"Yes, yes, Al. We'll find them."

"And buy them?"

"And buy them."

"Thousand of those?" Thousand was the number he had recently discovered because of Ron's exceedingly long list of food items that can be given to his dad.

"Thousands," I corrected. "Yes, thousands of those."

"Yay!" He flailed around again but I managed to grip his tiny midriff tightly.

"How about this? 'The Rivers of India: A Guide of The Tributaries of the Country'," Ginny asked, holding out a book with a rather pale cover.

"Um," I sweatdropped. "Why would he possibly go looking for rivers?"

"What if he doesn't go looking for rivers and ends up falling into one? Oh my sweet Merlin, Harry! Thank goodness you asked that question! This book is definitely in." She added it to the growing basket that I was so ungracefully carrying.

"More goo 'uide books!"

"Yes, sweetheart. How does this one sound, Al? 'Your Guide to The Cuisine and Culture of India'."

"Yes, Mama!"

"Oh, Fudge, no. . ." I wish I could facepalm.

—xoxo—

Arthur Weasley was overloaded. He was carrying the strangest of things for a job travel. A pile of Indian Kurtas by George, Fred II and Angelina – a strange clothing if you ask me; like, which man likes to wear a shirt attached to a skirt cut at the sides?! You would mandatorily need boxers or women would laugh at your face – was just one of them. George sure knew how to play pranks even now.

Another alarming addition was a first aid kit, complete with nutritional syrups by Hermione. I know the cuisine there is extravagant but you need your nutrition, Mr Weasley!  Ron and Rose gave their personal touch to it by adding almost every canned food ever available in the local market.

Then there was Percy and Audrey, who had brought his father blankets and wears for the cold and hot weather. The country has extremes of both, who knew what season it was there now? That was thoughtful of them.

Bill, and Fleur for that matter, had gone out of their way to get Galleons exchanged into Pounds which were further exchanged into Rupees, the Indian currency. That was a wise gift, indeed. I'm sure Mr Weasley would need them.

Charlie, who was almost always in Romania, thought to give his love as a gift instead. He swore to write letters and gave a huge album which contained photos of the Weasleys, dragons, Hogwarts, dragons, food, dragons, the extended family, dragons, Muggle contraptions, dragon eggs, rubber ducks, dragons and of course, more dragons. I don't know if I can place that one in a well-thoughout bunch of gifts.

Then came the heaviest pile of books that even Hermione wouldn't have seen – selected by my Miss and my Kid. I – technically speaking seeing as I was the load coolie – had nothing to do with the selection process. Just the payment was done by me, thanks.

Seeing as the pile of things Mr Weasley had to carry, which were not even for job related issues, was larger than himself, he was in a fix. He did not want to hurt the sentiments of the family, especially of his Grandchildren nor was he in the age – I'm not sure even a man aged my age would be able to carry all that! – to bear them all the way to a completely foreign, tropical country with a totally different and wider culture.

"Um, thank you," he started, clearing his throat after internally fainting at the load. "Sons, daughters and grandchildren."

"You'll take them all, right Grandy?" Fred II asked, popping up from the couch with a twinkle in his blue eyes. Mr Weasley smiled wanly.

"Yes, of course, Freddie."

"The goo 'uides?" Albus probed.

"The good guides as well, Albie."

"Yay!" The two children rejoiced, running to hug their 'Grandy'. I am rather thankful to Mrs Weasley to be babysitting the other kids. Or I'd never want to know how hard it would be to keep them reined in in moments like this. The clan of Weasley-Potter children, I daresay, have inherited Mrs Weasley's bone-crushing-hug-genes. Trust me when I say I wouldn't want to find out how it would be to be on the receiving end of one of your own kid's hugs when you grow as old as an elder tree.

—xoxo—

Dinner was a noisy affair which was very much expected seeing as the patriarch was leaving the following afternoon. All the kids were now playing in the play pen, a couple of feet away from where the dining table was laid out. Mrs Weasley had asked it to be placed in the open to accommodate the large number of people. Bill, George, Ron and I had some trouble lifting the heavy wooden table as Percy was the one in charge of taking care of the kids. No, really. The truth is, even if he was there we would have found it difficult to carry all the way across from the kitchen to the lawn because man, was it heavy and we were no energetic teens anymore!

Poor Bill even caught a muscle catch because of it. He was now lying on the grass with Dominique jumping up and down on his back in the name of massaging. The girl was enthusiastic about making her father's back pain go away that she was nearly walking on him for ten minutes. I sighed, wishing for a time when my daughter would do that, that is, if I had one.

You might think us silly for not using magic but there is a catch there. You see, the Ministry has put up wards around the household until Mr Weasley leaves in order to protect him. The wards went out of hand when Mrs Weasley learned the bitter truth of it forbidding them from using magic. She could not whip up delicacies at ease and needed Hermione's help on the Muggle appliances like the microwave to bake a cake.

Each of the Weasley in-laws, including me, brought some cooked dish from our homes. Fleur brought freshly baked French Croissants along with pasta. Audrey's special, 'Max Barbeque' accompanied Angelina's spaghetti. Hermione had helped Mrs Weasley to bake a gigantic chocolate-walnut cake, the chocolate being the kids' favourite and the walnut being Mr Weasley's.

I, on the other hand, had made arrangements for sandwich and treacle tarts. Not much, I'm aware, but that was all I could suffice from the ingredients which were available at home.

After a surreptitious meal filled with fun and daddy jokes (which were despised by the women), everyone retired to their own homes. We were delayed as Ginny felt light-headed for some reason and was currently lying on her bed, sipping the pumpkin juice spiked with Pepper-Up that Mrs Weasley had provided. Jamie, Al, Mr Weasley and I were in the middle of a serious conversation about travelling.

"Jamie hates waking up eawly!" James complained, flailing in Mr Weasley's arms. Following his brother's nice example, Albus started wailing as well.

"Hey," I started. "you two hardly wake up. I carry you both when we are traveling."

Mr Weasley laughed, his heart filling with warmth. He suddenly scooped Albus up and leaned down towards James. "Do you what I hate about travelling?" The two boys shook their head. I found myself getting more attentive and curious at that point. "Leaving your grandma and, all of my kids and grandkids behind." There was a spot of genuine melancholy in the man's eyes that did not go unnoticed.

James and Albus made it a point to give him another one of their trademark hugs, feeling his wavering emotions somehow.

"Er, Mr Weasley–" I started, rather awkwardly as my brain came up with an idea to help his load. He broke away from my sons and looked over his glasses in a Dumbledore-like fashion. "I think I can help you carry these stuffs to India without using lots of suitcases."

Mr Weasley's blue eyes twinkled. "Really?"

"Yes," I said, an air of determination suddenly oozing into my voice to help the man who treated me as his own. "and I'll have it ready before you leave."

—xoxo—

That night, under the pretense of Auror work, I charmed a blue bag with one spell. One complex spell that was harder than cooking but easier when Mr Weasley's kind face was remembered. Surely, even Hermione would be proud of my work.

—xoxo—

The wind blasted against my ears as I rushed into the airport, holding Albus in one arm and a suitcase in the other. The heavy noise of airplanes taking off filled the atmosphere, disturbing the otherwise calm wavelength of the air. The day was cold and not to mention, a tad bit hazy. But since noon, it was starting to clear.

"To the right!" Hermione's directions was barely audible over the crowd that I had to look at where she was running off to to find the route.

"Wight, Da!" Albus repeated after his aunt as I trundled along the rush, apologizing each time the suitcase or Albus bumped into someone. "Stawp!!"

My feet halted in its place automatically as if Albus had jammed the breaks. Standing on tip-toes, I spotted Ginny waving from the other side. I quickly rushed over to her, finding the whole Weasley clan by her side. "Dad's already standing for the check. Give me Al and go drop off his suitcase," my wife said, reaching for Albus. I let her take him and started to run again.

Oh, why did Mr Weasley have to forget the most important suitcase at our place? After giving the bag which contained an extension charm, Mr Weasley could lessen the load of nearly five suitcases into it. He had managed to take that with him but forgot the one which contained all of the work materials.

Eventually, I found him waving. I walked to the sidelines of the queue. "Mr – Weasley – I – your – suit-c -case!" I panted, struggling to catch my breath. Mr Weasley gave me an apologetic smile and helped to heave the heavy case to the other side.

"My apologies for making you run all the way here, son."

I shook his apologies away with a dismissive nod. When my lungs were sure that I had enough air for respiration, I spoke up. "Follow the line. They'll check you for metal items. You are not carrying any, are you?"

The man smiled and shook his head. The lady in front of him moved by a step and he followed. I walked in the sidelines, falling into step with my father-in-law. "Good. Where have you kept the ticket? And the passport?"

"Passport?" he asked. Thank Merlin, Hermione knew he would forget it and sent me.

"The card, Mr Weasley! Containing your name and sign. The one to which we went to the Muggle Post office." My hands did an action of a rectangle in the air, trying to make him recollect. He looked thoughtful for a few minutes, absent-mindedly following up the lady to not leave empty spaces, then exclaimed.

"Ah! Yes! I have it in my waist pocket." He began searching. I looked at him oddly. Surely it would not take a long time to retrieve something that was in your waist pocket unless it was not there. . . "Oh Merlin's right sock! Harry, it's gone!" He looked up with wide eyes, something unlike his demeanor evident in them.

"Oh, no no no!"

The line was inching towards the checking entrance. We had to hurry up and find it. Oh and did I mention without magic? 

"Mr Weasley! Did you bring it over to our house?" The man nodded, frantically groping around in the bag which I had given.

"Ticket, please, sir." Oh, shoot! We had reached the end of the queue. A lady, looking already bored, asked Mr Weasley who looked at me for an explanation.

"Err, the paper, Mr Weasley!" I shouted from the sidelines. We were at two feet distance and I hope he heard. "The one which tells you which airplane you are on!"

Mr Weasley nodded and reached for his shirt pocket, instantly withdrawing the ticket and handing it over to the lady. Her eyebrows furrowed at the piece of paper before she nodded and out a stamp on it. "Place your luggages in there and hand me your passport."

He looked at me again, this time helplessly. We had no idea where the passport was but perhaps magic could be used in a way that's highly concealed. Wordlessly, I told him to stay still. He seemed to understand as he, under the pretense of finding the passport, placed the bag on the rail and stood still.

'Accio Mr Weasley's Passport.'

My non verbal charm failed. Nothing happened and I dropped my head in shame. After all the hustle and bustle we had to leave behind the passport somewhere.

"Wait, is this the one?" I lifted my head at Mr Weasley's voice, thinking that he was addressing me. He was holding up a card – the passport!

The lady nodded and took it from him, inspecting it and running the metal detector over him before letting him pass. Both of us let out a sigh of relief and I rushed over to the place where he was standing. The rest of the Weasleys were there as well but we were separated by a barrier.

"Blimey! What took you guys so long?" Ron asked.

"My portpass," Mr Weasley blabbered. "It was in my shoe. I, once again, apologize for my ill-sense of responsibility, Harry. You really helped me a lot, son."

I gave him a thumbs up, too relieved to say anything. The announcement for the departure of the airplane he was supposed to board echoed throughout the terminal and we his our goodbye's. It was a bit saddening to see the patriarch go but he would definitely return and on the day that he would, I would be here to pick him up as a dutiful son.

"Hey, Harry," Ginny whispered in my ear.

"Yeah, Gin?" I whispered back.

"Ron and I were talking. . . whether one day you will take us in an airplane too."

I looked at her, exasperation and bewilderment etched on my face. She knew that my response would not be favourable and pouted instantly. "Not for all the money in the world!" I exclaimed back, drawing several eyes but I did not care. I'm never going to go through the wild ride of Muggle transportation and all the extra complicated, unwelcome procedures it loves to bring with it. Not even Ginny's and Albus' pleading eyes can change my mind!

I think. . .

Thank you for reading!

Miyoko x