Ron watched the sleeping baby in her crib. With his head on his hands, he could relax for only a little while. He could hear the soft sounds of his daughters breathing, and rubbed her soft milky skin with his thumb. Her beautiful blue eyes resembled his in the most perfect way. Her bright red hair assured him that she was his and reminded him he was a father, a nurturer. Her pink lips pursed in her sleep. Dreaming, he hoped, wonderful dreams. That's all he wanted for her, a beautiful wonderful life, for her to keep dreaming. He wanted to give her everything he never had and more.
"Ron, why are you still up?" A petite brunette yawned. She wrapped her thin arms around his waist. "Please come to bed."
"In a minute," he whispered, placing his hands on top of hers. "I want to watch her sleep. She looks so peaceful, like nothing could hurt her. I wish that was true, but it isn't true, of course." he sighed.
"I know, I feel the same way." Hermione mumbled against his bare shoulder. "Almost as if I can no longer protect her. She isn't inside me anymore. And now everything seems so..."
"Unknown." Ron finished. Hermione hadn't expected that from him, but she always underestimated how intelligent her husband really was.
"My words exactly." she said. Ron took her hand and led them out of the pink nursery, into their room across the hall. He couldn't help but wonder what having a son would feel like. Oh well, one man can only dream so much.