Author's Notes: After months if not years of debating with myself, I finally got myself a Pottermore account (in case anyone wants to know, my user name there is WalnutCat27567 - I had nothing but horrendous name options...). I did some snooping around, read about the Quidditch Cup 2014 and, my God, there were descriptions of Ron and Hermione's kids! And this gave me incentive to finally write a piece that had been on my mind for a while.

Rating: K

Disclaimer: Stuff seems familiar? Then, in all likelihood, it's not mine.

Warmth

Having made a detour to the Muggle bookstore around the the corner to place an order instead of flooing straight home, Hermione opened the door to the apartment, quietly as to not wake up Rose who should be napping right now. As she hung up her coat, however, she heard laughter from the living room and she furrowed her brow. Leave it to Ron to deprive their daughter of her needed sleep.

"What does the kneazle say?" Ron's voice came through the ajar living room door.

"Meow!" Rose responded.

"And what does the cruppie say?"

"Woof! Woof!"

"And what does uncle Percy say?"

Rose let out a sound that bore a frightening resemblance to Percy's trademark sigh of frustration.

"That's my girl," Ron chuckled.

Biting into her knuckle to keep herself from laughing out, Hermione silently opened the door and peered inside.

Ron was sitting on the sofa, holding hands with little Rose who was sitting on his rocking knee, laughing and squealing in delight as she bounced up and down, and he watched her, his eyes full of adoration.

Leaning against the doorframe, Hermione remained standing there, a tender smile playing around her lips as she took in this beautiful image of the two persons that meant more to her than anything else in the world.

This was her family.

Ron and Rose.

Her two.

Ron was so engrossed in playing with his daughter that it took him a few moments to realize that his wife was there. When he did, he flinched slightly with surprise but then his lips formed a warm smile.

"Hermione, love!" he said. "Come here!"

At his words, Rose also turned her gaze towards the door. "Mummy!" she squealed happily.

Her smile broadening, Hermione rushed into the living room and sat down on the floor by Ron's feet, blinking her eyes as she felt tears of overwhelming affection well up in them.

"Give her to me, Ron," she said.

Ron turned their giggling daughter around and, gripping her underneath her armpits, lowered her into Hermione's waiting arms.

"Mummy!" Rose exclaimed again as she settled down in her lap, flashing her mother a toothy grin.

Pride rose in Hermione's chest as she looked down at her daughter. She was a miracle. The life that she had created with Ron, the boy - nay, man - that meant the world to her. The physical proof of how far the two of them had made it. It was moments like this in which she could barely believe that all was real.

Physically, Rose was the perfect blend of both of her parents. She had the same fair skin as Ron but with significantly less freckles. Her slightly wavy hair was of a warm red, a few shades darker than her father's. Her eyes were light brown like Hermione's but with a sort of gleam that made them appear almost amber. Her face had the same shape as Hermione's and, as far as one could tell by looking at her tiny baby teeth, there was a fair chance that she might be ending up with front teeth that were just a tad too long.

To Hermione, she was the most beautiful thing that she had ever seen.

"Hi, angel," she greeted her fondly, gently running a hand through Rose's long hair before she blew a soft kiss on her daughter's forehead. Letting out more giggles, Rose slumped against her mother, burrowing her face into her shoulder, and wrapped her little pudgy arms around her neck. Still stroking her hair, Hermione carefully leant her head against Rose's and smiled up at Ron who was watching them with palpable affection.

The look in his eyes was enough to make her fall in love with him all over again.

"Come here," she whispered and lifted a hand to tug on his sleeve.

Ron immediately slid off the sofa and sat next to Hermione, sighing contentedly as he rested his forehead against her temple and wrapped his arms around both his daughter and his wife.

Hermione closed her eyes, her heart beating wildly with happiness as she relished the warm embrace of her two dearest persons.

Her life was a far cry from that of the lonely girl she had once been.

She was cherished. She was loved.

She belonged.