They had been trying for ages, so when Hermione finally approached him, beaming with her positive test he was utterly thrilled. They wanted this, they’d planned for this and tried for it and discussed it at length over many, many months. And he was genuinely very excited, Hermione was happy, his family would be thrilled.
Then the dreams started. Always the same way.
He held his baby, he cherished it, and everything was fine. But then it would change, suddenly, in the same whispery voice the locket once had all these insecurities came flooding back.
‘This is ridiculous! I should have married Harry’ dream Hermione’s voice would ring out.
The piercing cry of the baby would flood into the dream, drowning out all the other sounds.
‘I should have known you couldn’t hack being a father, even after all the examples you’ve seen’ that one would come from one of his brothers or his mother or, on very bad nights, his father.
One of the worst things about it was that he didn’t want to burden Hermione with these dreams. In fact, he knew that they were irrational, that he was a good husband and he’d give parenting his best shot. So why were these dreams haunting him? He couldn’t shake the feelings even though he knew the facts were untrue.
They had gone round to see Harry and Ginny. Try to get some surreptitious practice in with James before they had to manage their own child.
James was lively and loud; it was often commented that he channelled every troublemaker that had ever existed but with a level of sweetness that prevented him causing too much harm. Ron loved him, just as he loved his other nieces and nephews (James was his favourite, but he’d never admit that to anyone). But James also worried him, did he have the same energy levels as Harry and Ginny? Surely his child would be different, but then he and Hermione had hardly been well behaved at school… If they did have a child like James, would he be able to cope?
That night he had the same dream, but this time the voice came from the child in his arms.
‘You’re so boring, I wish someone cooler was my dad.’ It filled him with a new kind of dread, what if his child hated him? What if he failed them forever? What if he abandoned them like he had his friends, or resented them like he had his family, or couldn’t protect them?
So he did his research, squirrelled away in the hours between helping at the joke shop and Hermione coming in from her long hours.
Labour techniques, weaning models, he formed an opinion on sleep training vs gentle bedtimes, he listened to Hermione as she did her own research and took her opinions on board. Couching his disagreements in soft words and touches, opinions not facts, not willing to let her know quite how much reading up he had done.
Then one day she’d come home early, and found him buried in ‘Strong Fathers, Strong Daughters’ with ‘Dude, You’re Gonna be a Dad!’ and ‘The Baby Owner’s Manual’ stacked next to him, a few pages clearly dog-eared.
He’d looked up in panic when she’d walked in, moving slightly to hide the pile of books.
‘I love you.’ Was all she’d said.
She brought him a cup of tea and some hobnobs, flopped herself down at the other end of the sofa, putting her feet up on his lap, and picked up ‘The Book You Wish Your Parents Had Read’. They didn’t talk about it but he could tell she’d been delighted. Her happiness showed him, yet again, that however frequent his bad dreams, they weren’t true.
Then Rose Matilda Granger-Weasley was born.
It was a very long and complicated labour; Hermione had lost a lot of blood. Her cries had taken him right back to Malfoy manor. But this time, he could hold her, and whisper comfort. He had suggested, afterwards, that they didn’t have any more. Rose was perfect. But Hermione apparently had strong feelings about ‘raising only children’, he’d pointed out to her that she was an only child and turned out ok. She had stared at him, long and hard, and he felt that in this case dropping the subject was for the best.
His fears melted away as his little Rosie in his arms, his Rosie-Posy-Pudding, his Darling Girl, his Brilliant One.
He knew above all else that he loved her so fiercely. He would dedicate every day to her, and her mother. And her sibling, whenever that happened.
***
Over time, the words that his dreams had whispered to him did happen, but these things never go how you’d expect.
‘This is ridiculous!’ Hermione’s voice rang over the breakfast table, as Ron tried to convince a toddler Rose that she'd loved apple yesterday. ‘I should have married Harry, according to Spellbound – you know that silly celebrity gossip magazine that’s always using ‘inside sources’ to claim we’ve said things we’ve not even thought about – urgh. Harry and I argued about baby-led weaning just last week. Even thinking about being with Harry makes me feel queasy.’
‘Can you pass me the toast? I’ll try her with that. Everything has been making you feel queasy recently… Wait, you don’t think?’
‘But we’ve only just started trying, it took ages with Rose!’
‘We’re never going to sleep again.’ Ron whispered, horrified. But then his face split into a huge grin.
‘We should make sure, before we get too excited.’
It turned out that they could get as excited as they wanted. Ron didn’t have any bad dreams this time round, mostly because he didn’t have time to dream at all.
***
‘Well done on all your O.W.L.s Rosie!’
‘Almost all Os… but I got one E dad, an E! Do you think I’ll still be employable?’
‘Well your mother got one E and the rest Os, and she’s Minister for Magic right now, so I think you’ll probably be ok. If not, well the post-office owlery won’t scourgify itself, so I’m sure you’ll land on your feet.’
Rose simply rolled her eyes at him moved across the room to explain to Gigi (Grandma Granger, to everyone except Rose and Hugo) about her marks and how they compared to the idea of Muggle… CGSPs? GPS? No GPS was something else... never mind.
‘I got prefect too!’ she cheered as her Gigi gave her a warm hug.
‘Prefect. Now there’s something I understand!’
At the Burrow later that evening there was a big celebration for all the grandchildren receiving their O.W.L.s.
George sought him out. ‘A prefect, eh?’
‘Yeah, first once since Teddy!’
‘The child of Ron Weasley, a prefect, did Fred and I teach you nothing? I should have known you couldn’t hack being a father, even after all the examples you’ve seen. They’re not supposed to become Prefects.’
George chuckled.
‘You’re just bitter because Roxy got overlooked when it was her turn. Don’t you ruin my Rosie’s mood.’
‘Blasphemy, Roxanne would never have been a Prefect! Rose is a good pick though, I’ll just have to release a new range for the first years to keep her on her toes. I do think Roxy would have made a great Head Girl, she's both sensible and capable.’
‘Roxy melted Professor Weldyn’s cauldron when he said she was too pretty to have short hair.’
‘Like I said, sensible and capable.’
Ron conceded.
***
Every year a different person, or set of people, gave a talk to the Hogwarts 7th years about the war. It was Ron’s turn this year, his first one for a while. Everyone took part, but they did it on a rota. Partially to stop it always being Harry, but also because it was still difficult to talk about everything so doing it once every 4-5 years meant people didn’t get overwhelmed.
Ron was talking to the year that contained Rose, Albus and Scorpius (who, he had to admit, was a nice boy, but nicer for being with Albus instead of Rose). They all knew bits and pieces of the story, but they’d never really sat and had a full discussion like todays.
After a gruelling day of talking and answering questions, they were mostly respectful at least, he sat in the Three Broomsticks with Rose, who had been allowed to accompany him for the evening.
‘It must have been tough for you today, but thank you, it was so educational and really helped me understand.’ She said, looking at her fish and chips as she spoke.
‘You’d heard bits of it before, but now all your classmates know too. Sorry if it was embarrassing.’
‘Yeah. You’re so boring, I wish someone cooler was my dad.’ She looked up and grinned at him.
‘Sorry, I’ll work on having better war stories next time.’
‘Yes please, more gore, if you could.’
‘Noted. I heard St Mungo’s have accepted your application. Congratulations!’
‘Thanks Dad! I’m excited to get started, I’ve been looking at so much Muggle tech and I really think I can work on properly integrating it into our care schemes.’
‘I’m sure you can, but you’ll always be my Rosie-Posy-Pudding.’
‘No, seriously Dad, you could try being just a little bit cooler.’