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A big thanks to the people who reviewed the first five chapters so promptly! Just to set your minds at rest, I have already finished this story (32 chunks in all) and they will be up in five chapter lots (because they are so short). However, I can't promise that I'll post to a regular schedule (sorry about that). Enjoy!Meeting a Flower
Ron woke the moment Harry slipped out of Hermione's arms and from beneath his hand. He watched his friend through slitted eyes as he collected his glasses and clothes and left the room. The bathroom door shut a moment later and Hermione rolled onto her back to look up at him. They spent a few minutes, just looking at each other and listening to Harry run water into a basin. The room was still and listening to their friend was oddly reassuring. Ron had found it hard to get to sleep last night because he was afraid he'd wake up and find this was all a dream brought on by a blow to the head. Hermione nudged him with an elbow to get his attention and he looked at her inquisitively.
"Today will be hard for Harry," she whispered, "We should stick to our plan and get on with the interviews. Give him some time to take it all in."
Ron nodded and patted the flat stomach his hand was now resting on. He grinned when she squirmed, knowing that she was ticklish there, but didn't take it any further. Rose didn't need to meet them fresh from a tickle war. Hermione would never forgive him. He rolled onto his back as well and stared up at the cream ceiling that went so well with the pale maroon walls.
"We'll talk it over at breakfast," he suggested, "That way Rose can be included."
The shower went on and Hermione nodded before wriggling into a comfortable position and going back to sleep. Ron grinned and shook his head. She was more than capable of napping for another ten minutes and then springing from bed full of energy. The times they'd slept in close quarters in the field had shown Ron that.
He sat up a bit in the bed and listened to the water splash over Harry in the shower. The kiss in the hospital wing had been the awakening of Ron's understanding of his nature. He'd loved Harry for a long time, but thought it was only brotherly love. That kiss had been like a punch to the stomach and he'd realised that his body loved his friend as much as his heart did. Ron had never had the chance to tell Harry that, and while the love he'd felt hadn't diminished over the years, he hadn't lived the life of a monk, either. He'd put himself about a bit and knew what he liked and what worked. Half sitting up in Harry's bed, listening to Harry shower was doing more for him now than some of his partners ever had.
The water shut off, and Ron tried not to imagine towels rubbing, or Harry naked. There was the sound of a window opening and then the bathroom door opened as well. Footsteps headed into Rose's room, and Ron heard the little girl greet her father. He listened to them talk about what she would wear for working in the back garden today, and heard Harry tell her that they had guests, who were still asleep in Harry's room. Once they'd gone downstairs to make breakfast, Ron got up and took his turn in the bathroom. One quick shaving spell and a fast shower later he realised he'd left clean clothes in the master bedroom. He shrugged and crossed the landing in a towel, the tee shirt and boxers he'd slept in floating behind him.
"Ron!" Hermione hissed, "That's not appropriate!"
She had her clothes in her arms already and left the room before he could say a word. Ron sighed and tossed his sleepwear on the bed before getting dressed and combing his hair. He made the bed carefully, tucking things in and smoothing wrinkles before sitting on one end and waiting for Hermione.
"Why are you still here?" she asked as she came in. He took her nighty from her hands and tucked it away neatly too before smoothing the wrinkles out once more and generally fidgeting while she pulled her hair into a sleek braid. She watched him out of the corner of her eye and shook her head when she was done.
"You're nervous?" her tone was a continuation from her earlier remark, "Ron, she doesn't know you."
"What if she doesn't like us?" Ron asked quietly, "Or if she's afraid of magic? Then what will we do?"
"Ron, Harry has our picture hanging above her bed. I don't think it will be a problem," Hermione said matter of factly and shrugged her jacket on, "But if you're that worried, I'll go first."
He sighed and trailed her down the stairs. At the bottom he noted that the table had been moved to stand beneath the frosted window set beside the front door, and what he now recognised as a dining room chair sat beside it. Harry and Rose's winter coats hung from hooks on the wall, with a couple of scarves and a battered leather satchel hanging on additional hooks beside them. That simple sign that Harry was willing to go through with Ron's plan was like a shout in the still hallway, and Hermione looked back at Ron with her heart in her face.
They entered the kitchen to see Harry at the stove, cooking breakfast while Rose's voice floated from the conservatory, where she was apparently talking to Hedwig. Harry looked around when Hermione said good morning and smiled happily.
"Good morning you two!" he replied, and Rose's voice broke off. Ron took a deep breath and smiled as she appeared in the doorway. Harry had apparently brushed her hair with a wet comb, because it was almost behaving, and she looked gorgeous in her white tee, overalls with a sunflower on the bib and sandals. Her eyes widened in shock and as Harry had warned she squealed in surprise. Ron swore he saw the glass in the doors vibrate.
"Uncle Ron! Aunt Hermanee!" she ran forward, arms out, and it was surprisingly easy to step forward and swing her into his arms, kissing her on the cheek soundly and laughing. She had quite a strong grip around his neck and kissed him back, patting his face before turning in his arms and launching herself at Hermione.
"Aunty Hermanee!" Rose laughed, and Ron laughed with her. Hermione was a difficult name for someone who was almost four, and Rose was close, but not close enough. Hermione didn't insist however, much to Ron's surprise. Perhaps the nickname was one that his partner would let stand; normally she was very fastidious about the way her name was pronounced.
"I think I'm jealous," Harry announced from the stove and Ron winked at his niece before going over and hugging Harry, kissing his cheek and pretending to pick him up. Harry laughed, hugging him back for a moment before slapping at his hands and wriggling free.
"Is there anything we can do to help?" Hermione asked. Harry turned and grinned.
"You can set the table. Rose can show you where everything is. How many plates today Rose?" he asked and Ron watched his niece carefully put up a finger for each person and then count them carefully.
"Four," she determined, her frown of concentration clearing, "We need four daddy."
"Good girl," Harry beamed in pride, "And while you and Aunt Hermione are setting the table Ron can shift that chest of drawers."
"I wasn't planning to do it the Muggle way," Ron warned in a mutter and Harry rolled his eyes good-naturedly at him. His friend was so relaxed, and comfortable that it made Ron's heart swell happily. Harry had never been this relaxed at Hogwarts, though he'd come close once at the Burrow. Here he seemed to fit his skin, and it was a beautiful sight.
"I didn't think you were," the green eyed man nodded, and turned back to his frying pan. Ron took that to mean that magic was allowed, even preferred, and flicked his wand out of its holster, moving over to the chest of drawers and directing them to float out of the fireplace and around the table. They fit through the door sideways and slotted neatly into the alcove with no room to spare, not even on top.
"Perfect fit," Ron announced as he returned and Harry nodded. He flipped the contents of the pan and turned to the bowl of parmesan cheese, flipping the contents there and then dropping them onto a plate that was already piled high.
"The drawers went there originally, but we moved them into the fireplace once we decided to shut it up. If anyone asks I'll tell them I'm thinking of putting a gas fire in, like in the front room and my bedroom," he murmured, and Ron nodded, leaning in to sniff appreciatively at the French toast.
"I don't think she noticed either," Ron leaned back. Harry chuckled and glanced at him. The rich sound made Ron's knees go and he was relieved to be leaning against the counter already. He made a determined effort to get a hold of himself, before he ruined this reunion.
"She noticed all right. She's just waiting until she has you cornered. She'll ask a million and one questions and demand demonstrations. Clear your schedule, and in the meantime, tell me your appetite hasn't changed from school."
"It hasn't!" Hermione called from where she was pouring juice. Ron laughed and went to ferry glasses to the table.
"Can we have fruit too, daddy?" Rose called from where she stood in the scullery door, and when Harry said yes she beckoned Ron to follow her. The scullery was narrow, quite deep and lined with shelves from floor to ceiling that were stacked with food and containers in all shapes and sizes. A door near the front led a step down into the laundry, which held a large refrigerator, washer and dryer and a great big linen cupboard. There were books in here too, about home maintenance and DIY building projects, lining two shelves that had apparently been built for them. The cupboards, benches and drying rack also looked homemade, their small flaws adding to their charm. The flagstone floor was worn with age and like the rest of the house it seemed homelike.
Rose directed Ron in the retrieval of breakfast melons and strawberries from the bottom of the fridge, adding yoghurt at the last minute. She carried the two melons and left him to deal with the rest, directing him into the kitchen and telling him how to prepare the fruit.
"You sound just like your Aunty Hermione," Ron chuckled at her, and Rose's blue eyes got very wide.
"So?" she asked and Hermione swooped down on her for a laughing kiss before Harry told them to move to the table, as the toast was ready, and asking who wanted tea. They sat down in a noisy cross talk of requests for a particular plate or condiment, and settled in to munch contentedly. Harry was an excellent cook, and the recipe books in the kitchen clearly hadn't been wasted.
The partners announced that they had work to do today towards the end of the meal, and Hermione asked what was a good time for them to come back.
"Soon," Rose announced, dipping her piece of melon in the yoghurt on her plate, "Very soon."
"I'm with Rose," Harry grinned, "Ron, do you want some money for the connection fees?"
"Not unless it's in galleons," Ron grinned back; glad to hear it said aloud how much Harry wanted them to stay, "I'll get you a good supply of powder as well. Shall I use the house name for the destination?"
"Yes please," Harry nodded, "I'd rather not have to say my name to get home."
"What are you talking about daddy?" Rose inquired, a smear of yoghurt on her chin and fingers. Harry grinned and leaned over to clean her up, kissing her cheek as he sat back. His hands had been deft and gentle, well accustomed to the task, parent hood sitting gracefully on his shoulders.
"It's a surprise," he admitted, "But if all goes well, we'll go and see Nanny and Poppy tomorrow for dinner, ok? And we'll go and get some keys made this morning, so Ron and Aunty Hermione can get back in."
"Does that mean you won't stay away from us again?" Rose asked Ron, who nodded solemnly from the end of the table. Harry met his eyes, something unreadable lurking in the green depths.
"Ron never breaks a promise," he told his daughter huskily, "You can count on him."
Ron had to clear his throat and get up for a glass of water.
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