The Burrow smelled like fresh bread, wildflowers, and summer magic. You stood at the door, heart racing, cradling the small, wriggling bundle in your arms. Beside you, Ron shifted nervously, running a hand through his hair, stealing glances at you like he still couldn’t believe this was real.

—"They’re going to love her," he whispered, voice low and rough, almost reverent. "Just like I love you."

You leaned into him slightly, grounding yourself in the familiar warmth of his presence. Together, you stepped inside.

The house burst into life at once. Molly rushed forward, her apron fluttering, tears already welling in her eyes. George and Percy appeared from the sitting room, exchanging quick grins, while Bill and Fleur peered around the kitchen doorway, hands still dusted with flour. From the stairs came thundering footsteps—Ginny and Harry, hand in hand, their faces lighting up the second they spotted you.

You shifted the blanket carefully, revealing the tiny, sleeping face tucked against your chest.

Molly gasped, one hand pressed to her heart.

—"Oh, look at her—!" she breathed, already moving closer, her hands trembling with excitement. "Absolutely perfect."

Arthur arrived behind her, adjusting his glasses with shaking hands, his smile tender and proud. He leaned down, offering a finger, and the baby latched on with a fierce little grip that made everyone laugh quietly.

You caught Ron's gaze — the same wonder reflected back at you — and when he pressed a kiss to your forehead, it felt like the entire world had melted down to this single, overwhelming moment.

Then came the inevitable Weasley chaos.

—"Right, so who’s holding her first?" George asked, elbowing Percy with a mischievous glint.

—"Me, obviously," Ginny chimed in, grinning as she nudged Harry’s side. "I’m her favorite aunt already."

—"I think it’s only fair I go first," Bill said, teasing as he crossed his arms. "Oldest sibling rights."

Fleur laughed, reaching out to gently adjust the baby's little hat.

—"You are all like children yourselves," she teased in her musical accent.

Harry smiled warmly at you, a silent congratulations in his eyes.

Ron chuckled and squeezed your hand, leaning close to whisper:

—"You choose, love. Your rules."