"We better get this one in her cot," Hermione said motioning to the sleeping baby in Ron's arms right before she hugged her best friend, Harry.

"It was good seeing you three," he replied. "What are your plans for tomorrow? Perhaps you could drop by?"

"We're visiting my parents for dinner. If it's not too late when we leave maybe we will."

"If we don't get home soon, we'll never get James to bed." An extremely pregnant Ginny entered the kitchen carrying a very wide awake one year old. "And if he doesn't get to bed, you're staying up with him, Harry!" She yawned his name.

"If he won't go to sleep, Grandma will take him."

"Thanks, Mum, but he needs his sleep, even if he doesn't know it."

"I can't get enough of my grandson," she cooed. "And my granddaughter."

"Then you can be the one to put James to sleep," Ginny said.

"Anyway, we do have to be heading home," Ron said. "Happy Christmas, Mum." He let her kiss him on the forehead. "Happy Christmas, Dad," he called into the sitting room where his dad answered with a rather loud snore. "Happy Christmas, Gin." He patted his sister on the back.

After flooing home Hermione and Ron put their three month old daughter to bed. It was fairly easy since they had changed her into her pajamas before leaving the Burrow knowing she would most likely fall asleep over there.

"And now, it's time for this." Ron plopped on the couch in the sitting room, waved his wand to turn on the fairy lights on the Christmas tree in the corner, and patted the spot next to him.

"No, we need to get the presents."

"Hermie," he whined. The only time he called her by that ridiculous nickname was when he was whining. "She's barely three months old. It won't matter to her if she wakes up with the presents under the tree or not."

"It's our first Christmas as a family. I want everything to be perfect. She may not care, but I do."

Hermione entered the room with a stack of presents in her arms.

"Fine."

Ron disappeared and returned a few minutes later with some smaller packages. Joining Hermione on the floor, they began arranging the packages. A few minutes later Hermione's wand, which she had laying at her side, lit up.

"Rose," she said hearing the sounds of her daughter's cry.

"Let her cry. She needs to learn to put herself back to sleep."

Heading towards the stairs, Hermione muttered, "you're a horrible father."

Opening the door, she stepped into the room lit by just a nightlight. Rose lay in her cot, tears streaming down her face, her mouth wide open emitting wails, and her legs wrapped up in a fluffy pink blanket, flailing about.

"Poor Rosie, what's the matter?" Hermione asked in a soft voice. She rubbed her baby's cheek with the back of her right hand. "Too warm?" She removed the blanket from around her daughter, folded it, and placed it on the floor. "Is that better? Mummy wants you to be happy."

She kept softly talking to Rose as her wails subsided and the tears stopped. Slowly, she drifted off back to sleep. Hermione tiptoed out of the room, closing the door to a crack, and made her way down the stairs. Stepping into the sitting room she found Ron sitting on the couch asleep with his mouth open, causing her to grin.

"Ron? Ron? You hear that?" Hermione nudged her husband later that night awoken from her sleep by the sound of Rose crying.

"Mrrmph," he replied, turning over.

"Never mind."

Hermione quietly rose from the bed, wrapped her dressing gown around her, and made her way to Rose's room.

"Oh, baby," she whispered seeing her distraught daughter. Moving closer, she noticed just how red her face was and it wasn't from crying. She placed a hand lightly on her cheek, moving to her forehead, and back. "Oh my! Of course you're uncomfortable! Come here." She carefully picked her up bringing her to chest. "Mummy's so sorry. If only I checked sooner."

She placed Rose on the changing table, pulled out her wand, which she had grabbed from her bedside table before leaving her room, opened the middle dresser drawer, and retrieved a pink onesie, replacing the red footie pajamas Rose burned up in.

Instead of rocking her in the rocking chair in the nursery, Hermione took her downstairs to the sitting room where she felt it was cooler. Plus, the big picture window gave a nice view of the light snowfall. She took a seat in the overstuffed armchair by the couch and summoned the temperature strip from the medicine cabinet.

"101.5! A fever! Mummy feels terrible she missed this. Oh baby!" She snuggled Rose close to her. Her cries turned into a whimper. "I know you're uncomfortable. I'm such a terrible mother."

"No, you're not."

Hermione raised her head to see Ron standing in the doorway, his hair sticking up in every direction, and his white t-shirt on inside out.

"She's sick and I thought she just didn't want her blanket. I missed this. My poor baby is ill and I didn't see it coming!"

"It happens, Hermione." He bent down and wrapped his arms around his two girls, kissing Rose on the top of her head. "You're a good mum and will take great care of her." He watched tears form in Hermione's eyes. "She's going to be all right."

"I just can't stand to see her in pain."

"Me either, but we'll make her better." He wiped the tears from her eyes with his thumbs. "I'll get her a cool wet washcloth."

"What do the books say to do for a fever?" She asked when Ron returned, placing the cloth on Rose's forehead.

"Forget books. Let's contact my mum."

"It's late. She's probably asleep."

"It's her granddaughter. She won't mind being interrupted."

"We can just find the answer in a book."

"We could contact St. Mungo's."

"It'll take ages to get someone to give us an answer. We can just look it up in a book."

"My mum is faster."

"She's asleep!" Hermione said again. "Just get me a book."

"Fine," Ron grumbled. He handed her the book nearest him and flipped to the section on caring for a sick newborn.

"Unlike in Muggle babies, fevers in wizard and witch newborns are easy to handle," Hermione read. "That's good. Keep note of how long the fever lasts so you can discuss it with the baby's healer at his or her next appointment. Ron, write down that we discovered the fever at," she searched the room for a clock, "what time is it?"

"Er, I think it's 2 in the morning."

"OK, write that down. Make sure the baby is cool. Do not keep him or her in a room warmer than average room temperature, which is no higher than 27 º Celsius. Take off any blankets and heavy clothing and do not hesitate to put a cold cloth or compress on the forehead. Did that."

"See, you're doing a good job."

"Give him or her one tablespoon of diluted Pepper-up Potion. Dilute the potion with ½ cup water to 1 cup potion. Do not be frightened by the steam escaping the baby's ears. That means the potion is working."

"On it."

Hermione closed her eyes after Ron went into the kitchen. She didn't fall asleep she just slowly rocked Rose from side-to-side wishing she could ease her pain immediately.

"You still love Mummy even though she didn't realize you were sick?"

"I hate to say it, but you're nutters." Ron returned with a dropper full of the potion.

"You sure that's one tablespoon?"

"Yes."

"And you diluted it with water?"

"Yes."

"1/2 a cup to a cup of potion?"

"Yes!"

"Sorry, I just don't want to mess this up."

"You're doing fine."

Hermione held Rose as still as she could so Ron could get the dropper and the potion in her mouth. Rose squirmed knocking the washcloth to the floor as she turned her head from side to side, but eventually Ron was successful.

"If your baby is a Squib he or she will not be responsive to the potion. What do we do if she's a Squib? I didn't even think of that!" Hermione panicked.

"We'll love her anyway." Ron patted her on the back when she sent him a look. "We'll cross that bridge if we get to it. Read what it says next."

"OK." She took a deep breath. "If the fever lasts for more than four hours or other symptoms are visible see a healer immediately. That's it. That's all we have to do," Hermione sighed, shut the book, and placed it on the floor.

"You're doing fine," Ron repeated. "You're a good mother."

"If I was a good mother—"

"You'd be taking care of Rosie like you're doing now," Ron completed. He pulled a gold necklace with an oval pendant out of his sweatpants pocket. "It may be dark out, but it is Christmas morning and I want to give Rose her first Christmas gift."

"It's beautiful. You picked this out yourself?" Hermione fingered the pendant. Engraved on one side was a rose. Her fingers found a latch, which opened to reveal a photo of Hermione on one side and Ron on the other.

"Her parents, obviously." He closed the locket, pulled his wand from his other pocket, and tapped the rose. "Now, when I open it…" he did so and image of Ron and Hermione dancing revealed itself. "So she'll always have us with her, even if it is just photos."

"It's beautiful." Hermione leaned over and kissed Ron on the lips. "Happy Christmas." She looked down at her daughter. "She's asleep!"

"And is that?"

Hermione could see a faint trace of steam escaping her daughter's right ear.

"I think so!"

She continued to watch as the trace grew and started coming out the other ear as well.

"I think we did it." Ron handed her the temperature strip which had fallen on the floor. Carefully, she placed it on Rose's forehead and waited. "99.1!" She sighed, a huge smile on her face. "We did it."

Ron squeezed Hermione, again kissing Rose on the top of her head. She still remained asleep. He crawled onto the armchair fitting himself around Hermione. She snuggled into his chest.

"I love my little family," she said.