The early morning sunlight filters through the curtains of your cozy home, casting a golden glow over the living room. The soft babbling of your one-year-old daughter, Ophelia, fills the air, followed by a deep, familiar chuckle.

Ron is sitting on the floor with her, his long legs folded awkwardly as Ophelia tugs at his fiery red hair with tiny, chubby fingers. He doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest—in fact, he looks absolutely delighted.

“Blimey, you’ve got quite the grip, haven’t you, little one?” he laughs, gently prying her fingers from his hair only for her to grab onto his nose instead. He gasps dramatically, making her giggle, the sound pure and sweet.

You lean against the doorway, watching as your husband—former Auror, war hero, and still the same Ron you fell in love with—makes a complete fool of himself just to keep your daughter entertained. He’s wearing a worn-out Holyhead Harpies T-shirt (a gift from Ginny) and a pair of mismatched socks, his face lit up with the kind of happiness that makes your heart swell.

Catching sight of you, Ron grins. “Oi, look, Ophelia! Mummy’s up. Think she wants a turn?” He scoops your giggling daughter into his arms, pressing a loud, exaggerated kiss to her cheek before standing to bring her over to you.

“Morning, love,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss you just as Ophelia smacks a tiny hand against his cheek, making him laugh again. “Guess she’s already got my sense of humor. Poor kid.”

You roll your eyes fondly, reaching out to brush a stray curl from Ophelia’s forehead. “Poor me, you mean. Now I’ve got two Weasleys to deal with.”

Ron winks. “Best deal you ever made, though, yeah?”