Chapter 94
It was two o'clock exactly when the all too familiar screams woke Ron again. At first, he didn't even open his eyes. It was the same thing every hour, like clockwork. Rose had been sleeping peacefully since eight, but when they came to bed at ten, Ron just had to drop his wand. He'd tried to rest it on the bedside table quietly, but it had slipped from his hands and rattled on the wooden floor, waking his daughter.
Twenty minutes it had taken to settle her, and then just as he'd been drifting off, she'd cried again. Another twenty minutes and it happened at midnight.
Now at two o'clock, he wasn't even surprised. Just annoyed with himself. If he hadn't dropped his wand, he'd probably be having at least an okay night's sleep.
He rolled over just as Hermione was dragging herself out of bed, looking as weary as he felt.
"Do you want me to get her?" he mumbled.
"No," she said, "you did last time. It's my turn now."
He assumed Hermione went to get Rose from the bassinet at the foot of their bed, but he couldn't have been sure, because even through her screaming, he drifted off to sleep, knowing that his daughter — at least for a bit — was tended to.
Nights were the worst thing about being a parent, he'd discovered in his first month with Rose. He adored her — loved seeing her in the mornings, loved playing with her, loved cuddling — but the nights were rough. It wasn't even that she was a poor sleeper. She slept fine for a one-month-old baby, but for Ron, who wasn't used to being woken multiple times in the night, it was hard.
He had another two weeks before he had to return back to work and if the lack of sleeping continued, he wasn't even sure he'd be able to do his job properly. It required high alertness to his surroundings at all times, and that wasn't something he could achieve with broken sleep every night.
It actually made him appreciate Harry a whole lot more. Ron knew for a fact that James had been a far worse sleeper than Rose, and he'd come to work cheerful and ready most days. Maybe he'd need to get some tips.
When he woke again, it was to the sun shining through the window.
He sat bolt upright, his chest pounding. Rose had never slept for so long at once and his first thought was that something had happened to her. But then he realised her bed was empty and so was Hermione's spot next to him. He briefly considered if Rose had woken again, but in his exhaustion, he'd failed to hear.
The thought caused a wave of guilt to settle in him. He didn't want Hermione to think he wasn't interested in raising their daughter together, even though he struggled to get up when she woke up.
He climbed out of bed, expecting to find Hermione downstairs with Rose, perhaps having her in the living room on a blanket and waving toys in front of her face to keep her busy. But when he came in to greet them, it was empty. No lights were on, all was quiet.
Ron frowned, suppressing a yawn. That was odd.
He went back upstairs and checked Rose's bedroom — the room she hadn't actually yet slept in — and his heart soared with love. He smiled at Hermione and their sleeping daughter curled against Hermione's chest. Hermione was in the nursing chair, also asleep.
Still smiling, he knelt in front of Hermione and gently rested his hand on her knee. She woke instantly with a start.
"Hey," he said, "you weren't here all night, were you?"
Hermione blinked a few times, looking around Rose's bedroom as if to gather her bearings. Her eyes fluttered down to Rose against her chest before drifting back to Ron. "Oh, goodness, I must have fallen asleep."
Ron smiled again. "You get some sleep," he said, carefully pulling Rose from her arms. "I've got her now."
"Oh, are you sure? You spent half the night with her, too…"
"I'm okay," Ron assured her, slowly getting to his feet so as not to wake Rose. She shifted but didn't wake.
Typical, he thought. Wakes at me dropping my wand, but she gets transferred between people and she doesn't stir.
"Get some rest."
Hermione pushed herself up from the chair. "You're sure?" she asked again.
Ron nodded. "Completely."
Hermione made it to Rose's door before she stopped and turned back to face him. "Oh," she said.
"What?" Ron asked.
"I just… I think… I changed her at some point in the night. And as I was changing her, I think she smiled at me."
"Really?" Ron asked. "She smiled?" They'd been doing everything they could to convince her to smile at them, from funny noises to ridiculous dances, but nothing worked. She watched them curiously all the time but never cracked a smile.
Hermione nodded. "I think so. But I was also very tired, so maybe I imagined it." She left after that, and Ron had no doubt that she was asleep before he probably even reached the bottom of the stairs.
For the first half an hour, Rose slept. Ron had become quite skilful at doing things one-handed. Having his wand, of course, helped, but he'd left that upstairs, so he made a coffee in the kitchen the Muggle way, using one hand. He also managed to make toast without his wand, too, and spread it with jam.
All the while, Rose slept. For once, he could even sit at the table and eat and drink without her interrupting. It seemed that a wild night had exhausted her as much as him and she was enjoying a sleep-in. Though, not much of one. It was only seven thirty when she stirred. He had just been — quietly — putting his plate in the sink to be washed later when her little arms sprang up.
He looked down in time to see her eyes flutter open.
"Morning, Rosie," he said, kissing the top of her head.
She lifted her head ever so slightly off his chest, perhaps in an attempt to locate his voice. She hadn't really mastered the head control thing yet, though, so it flopped back against him. Then she cried.
"It's alright," he soothed, beginning to rock her gently against him. "Bit of a shock, isn't it, waking up to find your mum not here? She's just resting for a few hours, so it's you and me for a bit, alright? Are you hungry?" He laid his crying daughter across his arms. It didn't stop the tears at all, but at least she could now see him.
"Come on," he said, "I'll get you some food." He rummaged one-handed in the kitchen, simultaneously doing his best to soothe Rose. She really wasn't that used to taking a bottle, but it was something Hermione had already insisted on introducing in the hope that by the time she had to return to work, Rose would have the hang of it. Ron had tried giving it to her once or twice unsuccessfully, but Rose always knew that Hermione was around then. This time, she wasn't.
He wasn't even sure how to make a bottle, but he had watched Hermione do it and thought he could remember. She'd had both hands free those times, though.
"It's alright, it's alright," he said to Rose, "just give me a moment."
A moment was a good few minutes — by the time he'd found everything, put it all together and then let it cool enough for Rose to take — and Rose was screaming to be fed. Shifting her into a position that was comfortable for both of them, he all but stuck the bottle into her mouth, and to his great surprise, she accepted it.
After a moment of her getting used to it, she seemed content with what he offered. He smiled. "See," he said, "not so bad when you're hungry."
He carried her and the bottle to the chair and sat in it, watching Rose as she drank. He wore a permanent smile whenever he watched her these days. Whether it be her flapping her arms and legs while lying on the floor, or her wide eyes taking in everything around her, he just loved her more than he'd loved anyone or anything. He liked being her dad, he liked spending every moment that he could with her. And he loved that it was Hermione he was doing all of this with.
As her eyes began to close, content with a full belly, Ron realised there were only a few more weeks with mornings such as these. The knowledge unsettled him, and so he did his best to push it aside, enjoying the moments he did have. But soon, they'd have to start contemplating the logistics of what they were going to do.
Already, Hermione occasionally spoke of what would happen when she returned to the Ministry. Whilst she spoke with worry and sadness, her brain — as usual — focused on all the practical things about how it would work. She had two more months left, and after that, they'd send Rose to her parents' place to be cared for.
It wasn't that she didn't trust Molly and Arthur — far from it — but she emphasised that they had lots of grandchildren. Rose was the only one Robert and Jane had, so it meant more to them to spend time with her. Though, even that seemed to make Hermione nervous. As much as she spoke of the practical, she still had an issue with leaving Rose and letting other people look after her.
Ron didn't either, but it was for a different reason for him.
It wasn't fear or worry that something would happen to Rose if he wasn't around. It was that no other job seemed as important as the one that involved raising Rose. He'd been unhappy with the Aurors for a while, but stuck it out because the money was good. But even that didn't seem worth it anymore now that Rose was here.
It seemed ridiculous, but he felt much happier where he was now — in his kitchen, sitting down and holding and feeding his daughter. And the last thing he wanted was to have to step away from this and go back and deal with criminals and Dark Magic.
Rose and his home were everything the Aurors weren't. Rose and Hermione were where his happiness was. The Ministry was where he felt unhappy. These almost five weeks had been the best of his life, and he didn't want it to end.
Rose fell asleep sucking on the bottle. She hadn't quite finished it, but he took it out of her mouth and set it on the table. He smiled again, just enjoying watching her sleep.
Merlin, she was perfect.
While Hermione slept, he busied himself with a few things around the house. All one-handed.
It was nearing nine-thirty when Rose woke again, and Hermione was still nowhere to be seen. Ron resisted the urge to check on her, knowing that she needed to sleep for as long as she could. She was often the one up with Rose at nights — more than he was.
Finding nothing else to do, he took her back into the living room where they'd set up a little play space for her. There wasn't much at the moment, because she couldn't do much. Just a few toys and a blanket that they lay her on. When he entered, Crookshanks jumped up off the sofa, meowing at the sudden disturbance. He'd come to Ron earlier searching for food, but had disappeared again after finishing his breakfast — obviously to nap on the sofa.
His eyes fell on Rose and he meowed once more before stalking from the room, probably muttering in cat language about how everything had changed since she'd come home. Ron got the sense that their cat wasn't too fond of the baby, preferring to leave whatever room Rose was in.
Ron laughed at himself, laying Rose on the blanket. Their cat. When had he started thinking of Crookshanks as his — theirs? Probably when Kingsley had dumped him in his arms while Hermione was in Australia all those years ago.
Merlin, how old was Crookshanks now? He hadn't been young when Hermione had got him fourteen years ago. He'd be nearing twenty, Ron was certain. Wasn't that how long cats lived?
"He'll get used to you," Ron told Rose, who probably hadn't even noticed Crookshanks. "Just takes some time." He reached for the small basket of her toys and took out the rattle she seemed to like the most. Her eyes widened when she saw it, her legs kicking in excitement.
Ron placed it in her hand, wondering if she would actually shake it, but her hand merely grasped it and then unclasped it a moment later. She was watching Ron now.
"Not quite there yet," Ron said. "That's all good." He shook the rattle in front of her. More kicking her legs. He did it again, and her eyes followed it as he moved it around. They did that for longer than Ron thought could be entertaining, but eventually, he put it down and took out his wand, which he'd retrieved from upstairs. "Want to see something cool, Rosie?" he said.
He took all the toys from the basket and laid them on the floor next to her. A moment later, he waved his wand, and the toys lifted from the ground, forming a ring of colours and sound above Rose.
She was mesmerised. It was almost like hypnotism the way she followed them. Nothing else in the world seemed to exist for her at that moment — just the toys, making a rainbow in front of her.
On occasion, he thought he saw her mouth curl a little, which could have been a small smile. But there was nothing substantial that convinced him that she actually had.
"Are you going to smile?" he said, guiding the toys back to the basket. "Or did your mum just make that up?"
Rose was back to watching him now, his voice and face also mesmerising for her.
Ron grinned. "It doesn't take much to make you happy, does it? Is it going to be this simple all the time? I doubt it. I've seen your cousins — Victoire, Dominique. They were quiet and calm once, too. Now they're little demons who'll terrorise you."
Movement from the corner of his eye distracted him. He turned to see Hermione entering the living room, still looking tired, but not completely drained. She smiled. "This is all too familiar," she said, joining them on the floor.
"What is?" Ron asked.
"You and Rose, playing together. I see it a lot. It makes my heart happy."
"How are you feeling now?" Ron asked.
She nodded. "So much better… thanks, Ron."
"It's okay. We had fun, didn't we, Rosie? We saw some magic, you had a bottle —"
"She was okay?" Hermione interrupted.
Ron nodded. "When there's no other choice, a bottle is quite appealing. She slept after, I did some stuff, and now we're playing. We've had a good morning."
"I'm glad," Hermione said. She stroked Rose's cheek affectionately, and they watched as her mouth parted into what — this time — was an unmistakable smile.
Hermione retracted her hand, looking at Ron. "You saw that, right?" she said. "She definitely smiled?"
"Yes!" Ron said, beaming. "She definitely smiled. At you. I tried to get her to do it, but couldn't get anything. But then you come in and she gives you the biggest grin I've ever seen."
Hermione repeated her gesture with Rose, and again, another smile. Ron could see the flush of joy across Hermione's face. "She's so sweet," she whispered. "Oh, she's just so cute."
"Of course she is," Ron said. "She's our daughter. We were always going to make cute babies."
Hermione laughed. "I can't believe she smiled at us."
"At you," Ron reminded her. "I couldn't get anything in the two and a bit hours she was with me."
Hermione flushed with joy once again and picked Rose up off the ground, cuddling her.
"Breakfast?" Ron asked, standing up.
"Yes, but I can —"
"What do you want?" Ron interrupted before she could refuse his offer to get it for her.
"Toast, I suppose," Hermione said, smiling. "Thanks."
Ron returned her smile and went to the kitchen to start making her breakfast. He didn't mind doing all this, he decided. Housework wasn't his favourite, but it wasn't too bad when he had a wand to assist in most of it. Besides, he liked looking after Hermione. Even if she constantly insisted that she was capable of doing things by herself, he still liked doing it for her. It wasn't the point. He knew she could do anything without him, and better than him. She could definitely do more than he could or ever could. But the little things like preparing breakfast was something he actually enjoyed doing. For her, that was. If anyone else asked him to make them breakfast, he'd tell them exactly where to go and where they could put their request.
He just wished that he could do this every morning.
This is just a chapter of Ron and Hermione navigating parenthood. Nothing exciting, but I hope you enjoyed it.
