Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has to do with Harry Potter, I just like to write about that World. Thank You for reading, if you do, and please review, thanks again!
"Daddy!" A loud shriek broke through Ron Weasley's dreams as he bolted up-right in bed.
Turning he found himself face-toface with his three-year-old daughter, Rose, who had tears coming down her face.
"What is it pumpin," Ron asked, reaching over and bringing her on the bed next to him.
She sniffled, her eyes red as she clutched onto her father and sobbed into his shirt.
"Did you have a bad dream...?" He asked her, trying to make his daughter feel better, but her tears only continued as she continued to clutch at him.
She eventually nodded against his shirt, her red-curly-hair brushing against his jaw as he continued to hold her to him.
"Want to talk about it?' he asked as her sniffles died down and she was left hiccuping.
"No," she said, her voice small as she burried her head in his shirt.
"You can sleep in here if you want, Mummy isn't coming back till tomorrow from her convention for House Elfs," he said as he gently tried to distangle her small hands from his now tear-stained-shirt.
Another nodd, and then Rose was climbing over her father and snuggling into the blankets, until all Ron could see of her was her red-hair.
Sighing, Ron fell back against his pillows once again and closed his eyes.
Two-minutes-later he felt someone poking him on the shoulder over and over again, trying to get his attention.
Poke-Poke-Poke...Poke.
Turning over, he found Rose facing him, her eyes wide in her face as she looked-up at her father.
"Daddy..." she began and then hesitated seeming to mull the words over in her head first, a trait Ron thought she got from Hermione when she was thinking of something.
"Yes, Pumpkin," he said trying to encourage her to speak.
"Daddy, your not going to leave me... are you?" she asked, her voice timid as she stared-up at her father.
"No of course not," Ron said, shocked by the question.
"Why would you think that," he asked.
Her eyes held relief from his answer, and she watched as she sat up in the bed, her words coming out in a rush, just as Hermione did when she had somethign she wanted to say and had held it in for too long.
"Because Uncle George was telling me a little bti about the War when I asked at Dinner last Sunday at the Burrow and he told me you left Mummy and Uncle Harry for a little bit at one point but he wouldn't say more about the subject and I wanted to know if you would do that again..." She finished, taking huge gulps of air as she stared at him, her teeth biting down on her lip, and yet again Ron saw Hermione in her.
He mulled over how to answer this question, for his three-year-old daughter. Finally he simple told her the truth, knowing with Hermione's smartness in her she would understand, she might still be curious afterwards, but Ron figured this answer would satisfy her until she was older.
"That..." he began, hugging his daughter to him.
"That day his one that I'll forever regret, the day I left them, even though I came back, I still regret leaving them..." he said as he stared down at her.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because I turned my back on people who are important to me, and I will never do that again," he said.
"Promise?" Rosie asked.
"I promise, Rosie Posie," he said with a teasing smile and ruffling her red-curls.
"Pinky Swear?" she said, her face series, well as series as a three-year-old's face could be.
Ron held his pinky out and she stuck hers around his, nodding her small head as if this was the most legal contract in the World.
"Love You, Daddy," she said and then got back underneath the covers again, her red-hair the only thing he saw, once again.
"Love you, too Rosie," Ron whispered as he too fell asleep.