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“Ron,” Hermione said, standing up from her desk and abandoning her scroll at once. “What’s Rose doing here—what happened?”
“Everything is okay,” Ron said in a soothing tone, kissing their daughter’s forehead and handing her over to her mother. “Your mum called and said Rose had a tumble in the garden and got a gash on her forehead. The bleeding had already stopped before I got there.”
Guilt rushed through Hermione as she injected her daughter’s head. She should have been the one to answer the call.
“I took her to mum’s and she patched her right up.” Ron finished. “I thought we’d stop by to pass your inspection before going home to make dinner.”
“We should take her to St. Mungo’s,” Hermione said at random.
“If you think we need to then alright,” Ron said, guiding her over to one of her chairs and settling her in. “But my mum has mended more cuts and bruises than most and I turned out alright.”
Hermione smoothed the hair of their daughter, but there was no trace that an accident had even occurred and from the grin overtaking Rose’s cheeks it was clear she’d forgotten too. She pressed a kiss to the top of her head, smelling the baby shampoo from the night before. Rose started to babble, pointing at something in the office and when Hermione tried following the chubby finger, she found her vision blurred.
“Hey,” Ron said, laying a hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright.”
“She got hurt and I wasn’t there,” Hermione said, looking over at Ron. “I’m her mother.”
“I know,” Ron said compassionately. “I was scared shitless.”
It didn’t even occur to her to chastise his language. “I’m glad you—you’re a good dad, Ron.”
“I’ve got a good partner,” he replied and she shook her head.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Hermione said seriously and he smiled, looking pleased.
“Let’s not find out.” He quipped and Hermione managed to crack a smile, kissing Rose’s head again and squeezing her tight.
“No,” Hermione agreed wholeheartedly, “let’s not.”