A/N: This was just something that came to me one day and I had to write down. I left it halfway done for a while but was inspired to go back and finish. Hope you enjoy!
"What in Merlin's-?"
Ron's eyes snapped to the closed kitchen door at the sound of his wife's atypical exclamation.
"Hermione?" he called out uncertainly, but the only response he received was from Rose, who was currently on the floor in front of him.
"Mummmummumm…" she babbled, intermixed with doing her best to blow bubbles with her own spit. Ron couldn't help grinning. His daughter had been saying various forms of "dad" for almost a month now and had only recently started saying "mum". In truth, she'd been calling both of them "dada" for a while, but Ron had still needed to reassure Hermione that their daughter didn't love him any more than she loved her mother. He even had the example of his nieces and nephews to prove that it was just easier to say Ds than Ms.
"Oh, of all the ruddy…"
Ron shot another concerned look towards the kitchen as his wife continued to grumble.
"Mummy doesn't sound too happy, does she?" he said softly to Rose, who merely kicked her feet and continued babbling about her mum as Ron attempted to fasten her clean nappy.
"What an arrogant, insufferable - have you seen this?"
Hermione had burst into the living room, her face livid as she slapped the morning's Daily Prophet down onto the coffee table next to Ron. He shook his head and glanced at the paper, only catching a glimpse of himself and Harry in their Auror robes before having to return his attention to their squirming daughter.
"No," he said uncertainly, grabbing Rose under the arms and lifted her to balance on her unsteady feet. She immediately took the opportunity to bounce up and down as her father continued to hold her. "I'm guessing that's about my promotion? What scandalous rumor did they use the article to try and push this time?"
It was a fairly common practice by this point. Even if there was good news to report on Ron, Hermione, Harry, or any of their family, the press would find a way to twist something in an attempt to entice their gossip loving readers. There'd been everything from hints at marriage problems, affairs, pregnancy rumors, babies fathered by people that weren't their fathers, money issues, family feuds... You name it, someone had written about it.
Of course, they'd always managed to print things in such a way that nothing was ever said outright. The press had gotten very good at dropping hints and making suggestions without having to make any actual claims they'd have to back up with facts.
"Well, they suggest that you might not have come by the promotion honestly due to your relationship with Harry," she said in a huff. "Which is a load of bollocks, but that's not all."
She snatched the paper back up again, ignoring her husband's raised brow at her language and clearing her throat before beginning to read in a haughty tone.
"While some might question Weasley's promotion to Head Strategist at the tender age of twenty-seven, his former Hogwarts professors had nothing but good things to say about the young Auror when asked to comment. 'Mr. Weasley has always had a good head on his shoulders when it comes to strategy,' said Minerva McGonagall, former Transfiguration Professor and current Headmistress at Hogwarts. "I learned that when he managed to defeat me quite handedly in chess at the age of twelve."
Ron felt his ears turning a bit pink at the unexpected praise from his former head-of-house, but as this obviously wasn't what had gotten his wife riled up, she barreled ahead without pausing to comment.
"But no professor could boast higher and with more pride of their former student than Potions Master, Horace Slughorn. 'Oh, yes, all the Weasleys were very bright and gifted students,' he informed us with enthusiasm, "and Ronald was no exception. A N.E.W.T. level Potions student, you know. I knew he'd go on to accomplish great things. Knew it from the start."
With a huff of anger, Hermione roughly folded the paper back up and threw it to the ground. Ron half expected her to stomp on it, but she merely placed her hands on her hips, a look of supreme indignation on her face as she watched her husband in anticipation of his response.
"Er…," he began uncertainly. "I suppose that was...nice of him?"
"Nice?" Hermione repeated, her eyes wide and her tone a bit shrill. "What's nice is that he actually bothered to acknowledge your existence, let alone your talent and accomplishments. He has no right to comment on any of it, especially since I'm fairly certain he wouldn't be able to tell you apart from your brothers. He's an opportunistic and manipulative old codger who only wants to be connected to the most influential wizards of the day."
She let out a huff and crossed her arms. Ron could do nothing for a few moments but stare at his wife.
"Well, it's just rude!" she insisted when her husband said nothing. "It always bothered me in school that he could never remember who you were. And what's really insufferable is that he's right, but doesn't even know it! You're very bright and did go on to accomplish great things. And that old knobhead was too much of a… of a knobhead to see it when it mattered!"
Hermione's hair that she'd done back in a plait only minutes ago as she got ready for work was now looking a bit frazzled. Biting the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning, Ron set his daughter down on the floor, where she was quick to crawl away towards where Crookshanks was lounging in the morning sun by the window. As Ron stood and approached his wife, she let out a huff, likely annoyed that he wasn't as rankled as she was by their former teacher's words.
"Hermione, it's fine," he said his hands running soothingly up and down her crossed arms as she stared at his shoulder. "Why would I possibly care what that old knobhead thinks," he said, making sure to emphasize the term she'd used to describe their former professor. It earned him a twitch of the lips and eye contact from his wife. He smiled at her and brushed back a few of her fly away hairs. "Honestly, if him saying all the shite means I get to see you all bothered and indignant on my behalf, I'm quite chuffed he did."
Hermione rolled her eyes, but there was affection in her gaze as she uncrossed her arms and tugged lightly on the hem of his t-shirt. "Did you hear what they said about your age too?" she asked. "And have I mentioned that I can't stand the press?"
Ron chuckled, pulling her close and wrapping his arms around her shoulders. Hermione buried her face in his chest and wound her arms around his waist. She lightly scratched at his back, soothing herself with the motion as much as him.
"They can say anything they want about me," said Ron, resting his cheek against the top of her head. "As long as you're proud of me, I couldn't care less what anyone else says."
"And I am," she said, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes sincerely. "I'm very, very proud of you, Ron."
He could only grin, warmth filling him at hearing words that he knew were true, yet always gave him a bit of thrill to hear. Hermione was pushing up onto her toes a moment later, kissing him on the cheek repeatedly. Ron adjusted his hold on her to wrap his arms around her waist, turning his head to find her lips with his and kissing her soundly. Hermione sighed against him, her arms winding around his neck as she deepened their embrace.
They were disrupted a moment later by a loud ripping sound. Ron reluctantly pulled away from the kiss, looking down to find Rose now sitting at their feet. Her hands were clutching the newspaper, which was now in two pieces as she waved it around excitedly. Ron couldn't help smiling as she blew a raspberry and stuffed the fist holding the article into her mouth, the section containing his picture clutched in the other hand. Feeling his wife chuckle against him, Ron turned back to look at her, finding a bemused smile on her face.
"That's right, Rosie," she said, her gaze now on her husband and her eyes alight with pride. "He is a knobhead."