A/N: welcome to another story written as part of the QLFC, specifically for round : What's in a name? Optional prompts: [dialogue] "this isn't a game."; [dialogue] "you're the worst"/"but you love me anyway"; [word] unnecessary

Ron Weasley had spent his teenage years wishing to be extraordinary. Overshadowed by a very famous friend and the so-called brightest witch of the age, one would think that he'd grow into a man with an inferiority complex. However, Ron was proud to say his somewhat ordinary life was just the right amount of excitement for him. Each day brought a new adventure at work, while he went home each night to a house full of love.

In fact, Ron felt his life was quite wonderful at the ripe age of twenty-four. Fighting dark wizards was behind him, so now he could enjoy the life he had with his job at the joke shop and loving wife to keep him company. Opening the door to their home, Ron beamed at the sight that met him.

Hermione looked as beautiful as he'd ever seen her, sitting in their recently-purchased rocking chair in the middle of their living room. One hand rested on her distended midriff, while her other hand was holding a book and flipping through the pages more dispassionately than he'd ever seen her skim any text. How she always managed to read a book with one hand, Ron could never figure out. However, he couldn't help but be concerned by her huffing and how quickly she was flipping the pages.

"Everything alright, love?" he asked simply, hanging his work robes on the hook by the door.

Hermione shrugged in reply. "We only have a few weeks and this baby needs a name. We can't keep calling her the Great Pumpkin once she arrives."

Crossing the room, Ron put an arm around his wife's shoulders and took the book from her hands.

"Don't tell me you expect to find baby names in a muggle play," he groaned, flipping quickly through the pages. "No offense, but I'm not naming our poor kid anything with four syllables. It's too much of a mouthful."

"My name has four syllables," Hermione said testily. Ron knew he should probably placate her, since the closer she got to her due date the more likely she was to hex first and ask questions later, but really the book in his hands contained some truly horrific names.

"Okay, but Mercutio? We can't do that to our poor kid."

"That's a boy's name, in any case," Hermione said, waving him off. "We already established we're having a girl."

"Okay, but not Benvolio either then," he said, looking at her incredibly seriously. "I'm serious, maximum of three syllables, 'Mione."

Hermione lightly slapped his arm. "You're the worst," she said without venom. Ron could tell she was fighting a smile.

Teasingly, he leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. "But you love me anyway." He kissed her nose again. "And you know it."

She shook her head at his antics. "Loved you, married you, let you knock me up," she listed. "Really, you'd think I was more than an insufferable know-it-all."

"Well you're the one who said it," Ron said with a laugh. Hermione shook her head.

"But really, why—" He flipped the book to look at the cover. "Romeo and Juliet as a baby name book?"

Hermione shrugged. "My parents chose my name from one of Shakespeare's plays, The Winter's Tale. I just thought…" she trailed off. Ever since their failed trip to Australia, where they were unable to restore her parents' memories, it was a tough topic for her.

"It makes you feel close to them," Ron finished. Hermione smiled gratefully, making Ron swell with pride that he knew her so well now. "Then we can look at these plays. How many did he write?"

With a laugh, Hermione pointed to a veritable mountain of books on their coffee table. Ron groaned at the sight.

"Tell me that's all of them at least?"

"Oh, honey, we're just getting started.," Hermione laughed, picking up A Midsummer Night's Dream from the pile and starting to thumb through its pages.

They quietly sifted through the books, summoning a dinner of the prior day's leftovers from the fridge when their stomachs growled. Ron could tell that Hermione was determined to find their girl's perfect name that night, so they continued.

As the night grew darker, Ron grew more bored. After all, books were his wife's thing, not his. However, he picked up Romeo and Juliet again and started paging through it.

"You know," he said, grabbing Hermione's attention. "Juliet here has a point. What is in a name? It's just what people call us, but we put so much care into it."

Hermione carefully closed her book, A Comedy of Errors according to the title, and turned her full attention on her husband. "This isn't a game. Our name is who we are. We have it from birth and it helps define our person. They're the most important syllables of our lives. Our daughter needs the perfect name because it will follow her all her life."

Ron shrugged. "If you say so. I know my name is important to me, I'm just musing. This Juliet has a point, like I said. 'A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.'"

Hermione hummed in thought. "But a rose is known as the flower of love, one of beauty and elegance. When you love someone, you give them red roses."

"Would that change if they were called anything but a rose? They'd still be the same flower," Ron mused, looking at his wife. If he were more talented with transfiguration, he would give her a red rose right then and there. He cherished their arguments, at least when they were like this. Small. Insignificant. Unnecessary, but oh so intriguing.

"I suppose," Hermione conceded. Ron's face lit up. It was rare that Hermione would admit he was right about something to do with books, so the surprise made him smile.

"Roses are pretty great though," he added, his smile turning soft. "You know, that might be a good name."

Hermione tilted her head in confusion.

"Rose?"

Ron nodded, smiling softly and placing his hand over their child in Hermione's belly. At that moment, he felt a soft kick against his palm.

"I think she likes it," he said quietly, smiling down at their soon-to-be-born child. Looking up, he saw tenderness in Hermione's eyes as well.

"I like it, too," she said, equally as soft, her hand resting on his atop her belly.

Ron had no idea how long they stayed like that, sitting together as a family, side by side, surrounded by books. But he knew that he and Hermione had picked the perfect name for their perfect baby.