Part two of my story of love and lullabies.
It's still not mine.
000
Little Miss Magic
000
Ron Weasley had a headache.
After working a long shift in the Auror office, bringing in a crazy old Death Eater and filing way too much paper work, he had come home to find Hermione in a temper, hormonal from the pregnancy, dinner uncooked, Rose crying over a broken toy, and their old cat, Crookshanks, hissing and spitting at him for accidently stepping on the aging animal's tail.
It was around then that his temples started throbbing.
He had quickly fixed Rose's doll with a simple 'Reparo', tossed Crookshanks a few treats, given Hermione some chocolate, and warmed up some leftovers for his and Rose's dinner.
"D-Daddy?"
The evening wasn't over yet, though, he though with a soft sigh as a sniffling Rose approached him cautiously. Hermione had left just minutes earlier on one of her angry walks to cool down, which Ron knew might take up to an hour.
"What's wrong, sweetie?" he asked, giving his daughter a welcoming smile.
She looked up at him through wet, red eyes, sniffing slightly. "Did I make Mummy mad?"
Ron's heart went out to the two year old. She was always worried about hurting someone's feelings or making them angry. "No, of course not, Rosie. She's just a little stressed, is all. I promise," Ron gave her an understanding smile, "she won't be mad at you when she comes back from her walk."
Rose gave a little nod, still clearly upset. Ron sighed and scooped her up easily in his strong arms. He began to slowly and evenly walk in circles around the kitchen, singing softly to calm her down.
"Constantly amazed,
By the blades of the fan,
On the ceiling.
The clever little glances she gives me,
Can't help but be appealing.
She loves to ride into town,
With the top down.
Feel that warm breeze on,
Her gentle skin.
She is my next of kin."
As Ron finished the first verse, Rose's sniffles seemed to subside somewhat.
"I see a little more of me,
Everyday.
I catch a little more mustache,
Turning grey.
Your mother is the only other,
Woman for me.
Little Miss Magic,
What'cha gonna be?"
Rose shifted slightly so that her head rested comfortably against Ron's shoulder and he started the next verse.
"Sometimes I catch her dreaming,
And wonder where that little mind meanders.
Is she strollin' 'long the shore,
Or crusin' over broad savannahs?
I know some day,
She'll learn to make up her own rhymes.
Someday she's gonna learn how to fly.
Oh, that, I won't deny."
Ron was pleased to notice that the sniffling had completely stopped as he started the chorus again.
"I catch a little more dialogue,
Comin' my way.
I see those big brown eyes,
Just start to lookin' astray.
Your mother's still the only other,
Woman for me.
Little Miss Magic,
What'cha gonna be?"
Ron hummed the music between verses softly as he cradled Rose in his arms, still pacing the kitchen as smoothly as he could manage.
"Yes, she loves to ride into town,
With the top down.
Feel that warm breeze on,
Her gentle skin.
She is my next of kin.
Constantly amazed,
By the blades of the fan,
On the ceiling.
Those clever little looks she gives,
Just can't help but be appealing.
I know someday she'll learn,
To make up her own rhymes.
One day she's gonna learn how to fly.
Oh, that, I won't deny."
Rose let out a soft, contented sigh, obviously close to sleep, as Ron continued to the next verse.
"I see a little more of me,
Everyday.
I feel a little more mustache,
Turning grey.
Your mother's still the only other,
Woman for me.
Little Miss Magic,
What'cha gonna be?
Little Miss Magic,
What'cha gonna be?
Little Miss Magic,
Just can't wait to see."
Ron turned down the hall leading to Rose's room, humming softly. He gently tucked her in as he finished the song.
"It's raining,
It's pouring,
Your old man,
Is snoring."
"I love you, Rosie." He whispered, leaning in and giving her a kiss on the cheek.
As he left his daughter to sleep in peace, Ron felt better. Everything would turn out alright. This night was a test of his fatherhood as much as it was a test of Hermione's control over her temper.
Ron smiled as the idea that he might have passed a test Hermione had failed came to him. She would be retested again, he was sure, but at least he was confident that he had passed with flying colors.
000
As you might have guessed, my mom would often sing 'Sweet Baby James' by James Taylor to me when I was younger and my dad would sing 'Little Miss Magic' by Jimmy Buffet. Both songs still have a great impact on me today, and bring back fond memories of being held by either one or both of my parents.
I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.