Written for the lovely, wonderful, amazing Amber (Cheeky Slytherin Lass) who is just amazing. I used her prompt '"Fear is only a verb if you let it be; don't you dare let go of my hand" - Andrea Gibson'

Written for lezonne's Duct Tape Competition; Green: Write about a new life or changes in someone's life

Little Miracles

"I need your help."

The quill Ginny was holding as she bent over the next article for the Daily Prophet flew from her hands in fright. She hadn't heard Hermione enter the house let alone the kitchen where she sat. Had Harry let her in?

"Sure," she said once she'd recovered, pushing the parchment aside to look at her sister-in-law. "Is everything okay? I thought you'd be spending your day at home with Rose." She looked and smiled at the small bundle sleeping in Hermione's arms. A tiny, pale hand poked out from the blankets and the tip of her bright, red hair was visible. Her smile widened.

"That's what I need your help with," Hermione continued, her hand stroking her new born daughter's cheek. "I need your help with her and Ron."

…

Ron watched as Hermione lay their daughter in the tiny bassinet that was her bed. Her hand ran over her little tummy, stroking her as she drifted off to sleep. Smiling, he came to join her, one arm around his wife's waist, the other taking the hand of little Rose. Immediately, her hand tightened around his finger, and he beamed.

"And to think two weeks ago we didn't even know what she looked like, and now… how were we ever happy without her?" Hermione was as successful as drawing her eyes away from her as he was, and for a very long time they simply stood there, watching their baby daughter in awe.

Ron looked down at the baby – his daughter – studying her features. He'd spent a lot of times doing that in the two weeks of her life. When she slept he'd come into her room and watch her, he'd stroke her tummy, hold her hand, and when she was awake and started crying, he'd talk to her until Hermione came to hold her.

She was a true Weasley with the orange hair and blue eyes of her father. Even now, a few freckles on her face were visible. She had the nose of her mother, though, and the observant expression that he was sure Hermione would have worn at that age, too. She was going to grow up and be just as smart and as beautiful as her mother, he was sure of it.

When her eyes finally closed and her breathing became even, Hermione pulled her hand away. Yet Ron kept his with her, not wanting her to let go of him. She was the one thing he would never have to share with his brothers – the one thing that truly belonged to him. He'd never give her up for anything.

"Hermione? Hermione, are you there?"

Ron turned his head to the door where the sound of his sister's voice was coming from. She was calling from the living room, making as much noise as she possibly could, it seemed. She was a mother; didn't she understand the importance of a sleeping baby?

"Has she ever heard of knocking?" he asked, watching to make sure Rose didn't wake from the sudden disturbance of her aunt. When it was clear she hadn't heard a thing, he reluctantly pulled his finger from her grip and followed Hermione to the living room where Ginny was looking around frantically.

"I need your help," she said immediately, looking to Hermione. "I need you to come back to my place."

Looking at her friend, Hermione nodded. "Is everything okay?" she asked, concerned.

Ginny nodded. "It's to do with work," she said. "I'll need you for an hour at the most."

Hermione nodded again.

"But we just got Rose to sleep," Ron said. "Never wake a sleeping baby, they say."

Hermione frowned. "Ron, you'll be here," she pointed out.

"Yes, but… but what if she wakes up?"

Hermione smiled. "Then you'll be here to comfort her," she said, and she placed a kiss on his cheek. "I won't be long," she promised. "Most likely, Rose will sleep all the way through."

Ron opened his mouth to argue, to tell her that leaving was a bad idea, but before a word escaped, she and his sister had Apparated from the house, and for the very first time, he was alone with Rose.

He swallowed, looking up the stairs to where she slept. Please sleep, he silently begged, because the thought of she waking up when Hermione wasn't there terrified him. He didn't know how to look after his little girl.

…

Rose slept for twenty minutes straight. Ron was in his bedroom when she woke, and when he heard her he immediately knew something was wrong. He hadn't known her for that long, but it had been long enough to know that that wasn't a cry that announced that she was awake. It was a cry that told him she was hurting.

His heart pounding in his chest, he went to her, and he saw… he saw her red face and sweat dripping from her skin. His hand brushed her cheek and just one touch was enough to let him know that she was hotter than she should have been.

"Rosie… Rosie, it's okay," he tried to soothe. "Rosie…."

Her arms flailed in all directions. He had never heard her cry like that before, and without a moment's hesitation, he lifted her from the bassinet, cradling her. She still continued to cry, her cheeks burning red. She felt hot to hold, and the first thing that came to mind was to get Hermione back. She would know what to do.

He rocked her in his arms, but I didn't settle her at all.

"She had to choose this moment to leave us, didn't she?" he mumbled, moving Rose to his shoulder so he could remove her clothing. He'd seen Ginny do that with James when he had a temperature and it seemed the most logical thing to do.

It felt as if her skin was on fire against his hands, and her cries had become louder and more painful to listen to. If she didn't settle soon he would be taking her to St. Mungo's.

"It's okay, Rosie," he said. "It's okay." He left her room, carrying her down the stairs and into the kitchen. There was a fan there which he put on the coolest temperature. He pulled out a chair in the dining room and sat with it blowing right on them. Hermione would be home soon. She would know if it was serious enough to take her to the hospital or not.

It was five minutes of Rose continuing to cry. She didn't feel any hotter than when he'd first picked her up, but she didn't feel any cooler either. Hermione wasn't back, which meant it was just him and Rose. He had to do something.

She'd been sick a day after she'd been born, and the Healers had given her a potion that had helped with her temperature. Then they had… they had given him a whole bottle of it for if it ever happened again. And he had put it… away.

With his free hand, he took out his wand. "Accio potion," he said. Three bottles appeared in front of him, all in the same type of flask. One was a pale blue and the other two were a brown liquid. "I think it's this one, Rosie," he said, picking up the blue one. "I think." Why had he not paid closer attention when they had handed it to him? What if he thought it was that one, but it wasn't? What if it made her sicker? Hermione would know which one. She knew everything.

No… no he definitely remembered a blue potion at the hospital. He could remember the Healer taking out a syringe and filling it up. And then she had placed it into Rose's mouth.

"It's this one, Rosie," he said, more confidently this time, uncorking the flask. "Accio syringe." A syringe appeared next to the flasks. He filled it with the blue potion and then tipped Rose's head back slightly to get her to swallow it. She fought him, screaming, but he at least got some of it down. Immediately, he felt a change. Her body only felt warm against him and her cries turned into sobs, then eventually to whimpers as the potion eased her pain. He let out a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding and placed a kiss to her forehead. Somehow he'd managed to get it right. Somehow he'd managed to take her pain away.

…

Hermione wasn't sure what she was expecting when she arrived home an hour later. She'd hoped, at least, that Ron had managed to get over his fear of holding his daughter, especially if she needed him. Two weeks they'd had Rose, and not once had he picked her up. He couldn't take his eyes off her, but he would never hold her, never do anything but watch her.

Her heart almost stopped when she saw, sitting on the couch, Ron with Rose protectively in his arms. She smiled as she came to join him, sitting down silently beside him.

He looked at her solemnly, as if taking his eyes away from Rose was a challenge. "How was Ginny?" he asked. "She's never needed help before."

"It's all sorted now," she assured Ron. When she'd arrived at Grimmauld Place all they had done was sit and talk. Ron needed to learn to trust himself with Rose, and she knew that planning it days before would stress him out; but throwing him in a situation where he had no choice… he'd do it. She knew he would. And he had.

Her hand brushed her daughter's cheek, feeling the heat coming from her. She then noticed that Rose was dressed differently to how she'd left. She was dressed for summer, not winter. "She's quite warm, Ron," she said, feeling Rose's forehead. "Is she okay?" She felt the rest of her body and noticed the rest of her was warm, too.

"Not as warm as she was earlier," Ron informed her. "She woke screaming and I could barely touch her she was so hot. But I gave her some of that potion they gave us and she's a lot better now."

"You gave her the potion?" she questioned, surprised but pleased at the same time. If she had been there he would have made her make the decision of what to do. But with her gone, he'd been forced to make the decision himself.

"I had no other idea to help her," Ron answered frantically. "Except take her to the hospital."

"I would have done the same thing," she said to him. "Exactly the same thing."

"Really?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, of course. Did today not teach you anything?"

He looked at her questioningly. "Teach me what?"

"You're a capable father. For two weeks, you haven't been able to even hold her because you were scared you would hurt her. Yet, today, you saw her in pain and your first instinct was to ease that pain, all fears aside. You're more than capable of looking after her, and you would never hurt her. Never. I know you."

Ron grunted, but his eyes never drifted from Rose in his arms. He shrugged. "I suppose I did an alright job," he relented. "She's still alive, isn't she?"

Hermione patted his knee. "You did a perfect job," she told him softly. "Just like I knew you would. Stop doubting yourself, you're a wonderful father to her… the best."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far…."

She kissed his cheek. "You're the best," she repeated. "You're the best father to her, and she's all that matters."

Ron shrugged, but his eyes still didn't leave Rose, who was now looking up at him with bright, wide eyes. "I suppose you want to hold her again now," he said glumly.

"No, you spend as much time with her as you need," Hermione said. "You've already missed two weeks of her life. Don't miss anymore."

Ron looked at the child in his arms, not believing that she was his. He loved everything about her. From her bright, red hair, to her ten fingers and her ten toes. She was perfect – she was more than perfect.

Hermione had been right. How had they ever been happy without her?

I literally wrote about 10 different endings to this, and nothing was satisfying me. But this is the one I was most happy with, so I went with it. The idea for this came to me while I was movie marathoning. Amber, I hope you like. You said you were in the mood for fluff... so I gave you Ashleigh style fluff!