Title: Growing Up
Characters/Pairings: Rose Weasley, Ron Weasley
Forum/Challenge: The Golden Snitch's 'Light It Up Like the Fourth' challenge (Mahoutokoro, House Mizu)
Prompt: (word) independence
World: Next-gen
Word Count: 478

"Rose?" a soft voice called from the hall.

Rose huffed and turned her back to the door. She wrapped her left arm around her waist and used her right one to wipe away her lingering tears.

She heard her door creak open.

"Go away," she mumbled.

"Rose," Ron said, his voice tight, "I'm sorry."

She froze. That was not what she had been expecting. She'd thought it would be Mum coming to her room, not Dad. Mum was the reasonable one, the one that played peace keeper after all the Weasleys—usually Rose and her dad—let their famous tempers fly. Hugo had always been quieter, more reserved and bookish.

Rose really hated how their family genetic lottery had played out. She got the worst of both worlds: the hair and the temper.

She sniffled and wiped her face with the back of her sleeve.

"You didn't deserve… you didn't deserve any of what I said downstairs, and I'm sorry for all of it."

Ron sat down on the edge of his daughter's bed. The bed was covered in the quilt his mother had made for Rose's tenth birthday, and Puff the stuffed dragon—a gift from Uncle Charlie—was thrown haphazardly on her pillow.

Everything about this room screamed "little girl" to him. Puff, the quilt, the pile of young adult books underneath the nightstand—even the purple walls, which she'd begged him to charm for her when she was twelve.

At least they weren't her house colors. He knew she didn't get her Hufflepuff tendencies for him.

The only joy he took from the sorting that year was that Malfoy's kid had also ended up in Hufflepuff.

Which brought them back to the issue at hand.

A father looked at the floor; a daughter looked at the wall.

"You came home this summer and you weren't my little girl anymore; you were this incredible young woman who took eight NEWTS on top of being Head Girl and Quidditch captain. I can't tell you how proud I am of you, but it's hard for me to recognize that all of that means that you're growing up. And I know that you've proven yourself to your mum and me, and that you deserve your independence and the freedom to make your own choices, but sweetheart it's hard to let go. As a parent. As a dad."

And the father sighed.

And then he was engulfed in a great big hug.

"I'll always be your little girl," she said, her head buried in his shoulder. "And no stupid boys will ever change that."

He smiled, looked up, and saw his wife standing in the doorway, smiling.

"But I do like him Dad, and I'm going to continue seeing him."

He sighed, exaggerating his disappointment. "Well, it could be worse."

His wife raised and eyebrow.

"He could've been a Slytherin."