Disclaimer: Not mine, of course!
A/N: Ron Weasley, because I imagine him to be a great father.

'Hermione, sit down! You shouldn't be doing so much work! Baby Weasley's due in a few weeks, and the healer said…' Ron cautioned his wife.

'Ronald! I know what the Healer said! I was there too when we saw her, but I will NOT stop working, alright?!' Hermione snapped back.

She waddled out the room, clutching a stack of books. She was very heavily pregnant with their second child. There were only a few weeks to go, but she was bigger than last time.

'Daddy, I thought I was Baby Weasley!' Rose tugged on his trouser leg, her fist half stuck in her mouth. Ron smiled down at her. His little daughter was perfect. She had his blue eyes, big and expressive, framed by her mother's long, dark eyelashes. She had all of Hermione's features. Her nose and her curly hair, but she had his colouring. He ruffled her bright red curls and picked her up gently.

'Of course you are, Rosie!' He said, kissing her cheek. 'But you know there's going to be another Baby Weasley soon, don't you?'

'Yes Daddy. Can he be a boy? Please?' She asked, her voice lisping slightly.

Ron laughed. 'I'll see what I can do! Come on, let's go and find your broom stick and you can show me your moves.' He kissed her hair again and set her on the floor. Ron watched her proudly as she skipped away, off to find her beloved toy broom.

'Hermione? Do you want hot chocolate?' Ron called to her.

'Oh Merlin, Ron! You don't need to yell, I'm right here!' She retorted from somewhere behind him. Ron had immediately decided when she was pregnant with Rose that Hermione suited it very much. Her face had more colour, her hair had more shine and her eyes seemed to have that extra sparkle. And she finally managed to eat nearly as much as he did.

It had been seven years since the final battle. Seven long, hard years. There had been rebuilding, grieving and, finally, living. He had married Hermione four years, and they'd had little Rose for two of those years. The years had flown by. Ron didn't think he'd ever be able to see his wife and daughter enough.

Some things never went away. The memories, for one thing. They still haunted him. Hermione's screams at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange's crucio. Seeing Harry in Hagrid's arms. McGonagall's recurring screech still bounced around his mind when all else was silent. Fred lying, unmoving, surrounded by the rest of their crying family.

The wariness, too, had yet to leave them. Him, Hermione and Harry especially. They had to make a conscious effort not to question visitors as they arrived at their respective houses, just in case they were putting them in any danger. Their wands too. They were never without them. At night, they all made sure they were within reach, even Hermione, in the depth of her pregnancy always had it with her. It was a natural thing, now. Ron knew he would be utterly delighted when they could finally leave them downstairs, or just out of reach when they went to bed, not fearing an attack during the night.

'Ronald Weasley! Why have you let her get her all excited? You know it's her bed time now!' Hermione told him off lightly, but he knew her heart wasn't in it. She was carrying Rose awkwardly on her hip, balancing her to the side of her protruding stomach. Ron took her off her and smiled apologetically.

'Come on Rosie girl, bed time!' He said to his daughter, who was clearly struggling to keep her eyes open.

'Oh but Daddy!' She said, her tone pleading.

'No if's or but's young lady! Your fathers let you stay up late enough as it is!' Hermione scalded them both.

'Can I sleep in your bed with you and Mummy tonight?' she asked, looking at her father with those bright eyes he could never resist.

'Okay then, just for tonight!' Ron said, beginning to trek up the stairs.

He pushed the door open lightly, allowing Hermione in first. She settled uncomfortably on the bed, her stomach not properly allowing her to lie in her preferred position. Rose jumped on the bed next to her Mother, lying carefully next to her, before being pulled as close possible by Hermione. She snuggled up to her. Ron watched the two of them for a minute, before conjuring a blanket over the two of them, who were all ready asleep.

Ron slid under the blanket by Hermione. He sat up slightly for a moment. His little family was already so perfect. Hermione, her long curls spread over the pillow, with her arms tightly wrapped around Rose. Rose, her short, fluffy ginger curls resting on her Mother's arm, peaceful in her slumber. They were angels. His perfect angels.

He set his wand on his bedside table, only an arms reach away. He looked over to Hermione's bedside table, expecting to see her wand lying in the familiar spot by which ever book she happened to be reading at the time.

It wasn't there.

He sat up a little more. It wasn't on the dresser or on his small desk. He looked though the open door into the bathroom. He couldn't see it in there either. She must have left it in the living room on top of the stack of books.

Sucking in a deep breath, Ron threw the blanket off him, and padded softly downstairs. He saw Hermione's wand on top of the books, as he had predicted. He put his wand beside hers and jogged back upstairs before he could change his mind.

His wife and daughter had not moved from their adorable position. He lay back down beside them, settling his long arm easily over the two of them.

As he began to fall into dreams he could not help but smile. They had left their wands downstairs. It had taken them seven years to make such a small, but important step.

This is what he had fought for, he knew. A world where he could sleep with his wife and daughter without worrying about anything at all. A world that he trusted to keep them all safe while they slept.

Yes, he thought, it was them that I fought for. This night, and the next night, and the next. So my children won't have to worry about keeping their wands with them when they sleep. So my Wife doesn't have to worry about keeping her wand by her when she sleeps.

He fell asleep with the smile resting on his lips.