Like Father, Like Daughter

Early morning sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a thin ray of light to bounce onto the bed through the curtains. The two figures in the bed slept on, the larger of the two wrapping his hands around the other's waist, pulling her closer in sleep. The two had no idea what was about to hit them – the 'what' that was, incidentally, thundering down the hall with all the noise of a dragon at Charlie's reserve.

The door to Ron and Hermione's bedroom banged open, hitting the wall opposite. Something small and with slightly bushy, red hair bundled in, and threw itself onto the bed in glee. Both her parents slept on, their bodies now used to this disturbance so they didn't awake.

It was July 3rd, and to one Rose Weasley that only meant one thing; they were going to see her Auntie Ginny play for England against France at Quidditch. There was only one thing that Rose loved as much as Quidditch, and that was her family.

She frowned at the lack of space between her parents, who were cuddled together; she scrambled over Ron to get to his other side, before pushing him in the back. This trick always worked when this little problem occurred, and sure enough, Ron rolled over with a grunt, leaving a lovely little Rose-sized space in between himself and his wife.

Smiling, Rose climbed back over Ron before her mother stirred, her body confused by the lack of warmth that Ron's body had supplied. Now that Rose was in position, it was time for her second mission; to get her Daddy awake so that they could have breakfast then go see Auntie Ginny. Her Mummy was coming as well, but Rose knew it was better to wake Ron – even thought she loved both her Mummy and her Daddy's cooking, Rose liked Ron's breakfasts, even at four years old.

She poked her Daddy's shoulder, starting off lightly so she didn't hurt him. He didn't awake, instead waving his hand as if swatting away an irksome fly, but Rose was used to that now. She climbed on her Daddy's chest, and hit him repeatedly on the chest. If necessary, little mischievous Rose knew that one sure way to wake her Daddy up was to pull out hairs that covered his chest; but Rose knew that hurt Daddy a lot, and she didn't want him in a bad mood. But luckily Ron was stirring, his body reacting to the small fists that were hitting his chest.

"Rosie?" He mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. Ron fluttered his eyes open, to stare into eyes so much like his own as his daughter smiled.

"Wake up Daddy! It's Quidditch today! We have to go have breakfast now, Daddy, or we'll miss Auntie Ginny!" Rose said, her tiny hands clapping together, her face aglow with excitement.

Glancing at the clock beside his bed, Ron noted it was only five past seven in the morning. Looking at Rose, he was about to remark that there was no way they were going to be late and they should back to bed so they could get another couple of hours more sleep, but her little face had lit up and she was smiling so hard that Ron couldn't find it within himself to say that to her. She always managed to do this with him. Usually Hermione just laughed, but it got her, too. Not as often as with Ron – Rose had quickly learnt that Ron was the much softer parent of the two – but it still happened.

"OK then, let's get going." He said, but seeing Rose about to squeal aloud he lightly clamped his hand over his daughter's mouth. She looked at his hand in shock, her crystalline blue eyes wide. "But be quiet, we don't want to wake Mummy." Ron said, and removed his hand as Rose nodded. Ron got up out of bed, wearing only pyjama bottoms, and picked Rose up effortlessly; he tip-toed out of the room as to not wake Hermione, who would definitely benefit from the extra sleep he himself had been deprived of by their overly hyperactive daughter.

They descended the stairs carefully, again not wanting to wake Hermione, who was a very light sleeper. Once the two were downstairs they shut the door to the staircase behind them, and then they could talk and be easy, as the thick oak doors held out most of the noise from the room.

"So Rose, what do you want me to make for breakfast?" Ron asked, already knowing the answer.

"Pancakes!" Rose said, and Ron laughed, foreseeing this.

"Don't you get bored of pancakes?" He said to her, putting her down on the counter so she could watch him make breakfast, a routine of theirs.

"Nope! I love pancakes, Daddy, you know that." She said, clapping her hands together as Ron got all the ingredients ready to make pancakes. The room was filled with chatter and laughter, as well the sizzling of the pancake mixture as it cooked in the pan. Like Harry and Ginny and unlike his own Mum and Dad, Ron and Hermione lived, for the better part, like Muggles. They cooked and ate like Muggles, and wore Muggle clothing, but used cleaning charms and tidying charms – their children were brought up surrounded by both Muggle and Magic ways of life. In the 21st century, Ron thought, it was the best way to grow up, so their children wouldn't be completely negligent of Muggle life when they entered Hogwarts and met muggle-born children, or when they came into contact with the Muggle world in general.

"Can I flip the pancakes, please, Daddy?" Rose asked, sweetly, swinging her legs to and fro on the counter.

"Of course you can, Rosie." Ron cast a weightlessness charm on the pan before picking up his daughter effortlessly, his arms winding around her so that one arm was under her legs and one was around her waist, and so that her back was against his chest and she was positioned like she was sitting on Ron's arm. She could pick up the pan easily thanks to the weightlessness charm, and Ron's arm went from around her waist to help her steady the pan.

"One, two, three!" They chanted together as the pancake rose up in the air before falling back into the pan seamlessly.

"Yay!" Rose said, clapping her hands again as Ron placed the pan back on the heat. "We did well, Daddy!" she said, turning around and throwing her arms around his neck, burrowing her small body into his. Even though she'd been on this world for (barely) four years, Ron still marvelled at how much he loved her. He had never thought he could hold such love for such a small person but, as his father had reminded him countless times throughout Hermione's pregnancy, from the minute he had held her in St Mungo's Maternity Unit's room, he'd been firmly wrapped around her small finger.

He wound his arms around her small body, returning the hug by squeezing her tightly. Rose giggled in his arms, calling out a "Daddy!" before Ron set her back down on the counter as the pancakes were ready. "They smell good!" Rose remarked, inhaling deeply as Ron put the pancakes onto a plate so they could cool slightly. Rose sat smelling the pancakes as Ron made a cup of coffee.

"Let's go wake Mummy, shall we?" Ron said, scooping Rose back into his arms.

"There's no need, I'm awake." Hermione's voice was thick with sleep, and she still looked half-asleep. She had her pyjamas on as well, a simple tank top and bottoms; she hadn't bothered to pick up a dressing gown on her way out. Her hair was mussed up from sleep and her hands were rubbing at her tired eyes, wiping away the remains of sleep. Once again, as she did every morning, she took Ron's breath away. Even when she was all made up going to parties, he still thought she looked more beautiful right here, at half seven in the morning in her night clothes.

Ron crossed over to her, Rose still in his arms, and gave her the coffee and a kiss. "Yuk!" Rose's voice said from between her parents. "You're squishing me!" She said indignantly.

"Sorry, baby." Hermione said, placing her coffee cup on the counter and taking her daughter from Ron. "Are you exciting about the Quidditch match today?" Hermione asked her, and she and her husband watched as their daughter's little face lit up and started chattering at a thousand miles a minute. Ron grinned at his wife over the top of their daughter's head; in those tents, during the search for the Horcruxes when they were seventeen, they knew they had been fighting for a future – their future. But Ron had never imagined in his wildest dreams that the future would be this fantastic, and as he heard his wife and daughter's beautiful laughter ring through their kitchen, he summed up his life today in that single word. Fantastic.