"I don't think so, darling. She's as pretty as her momma," said Ron with obvious affection before kissing his wife's cheek and rising. He circled the room, clapping Harry on the shoulder as he passed, before settling himself on the back of the couch Hermione currently occupied. He looked over her shoulder at his daughter, one hand resting on Hermione's arm as he leaned in. "You think you're pretty like your mommy, don't you, my little love?" The obvious adoration in his voice as he spoke quietly to his sleeping little girl caused a lump to rise in Hermione's throat. She didn't move, didn't stop her finger's soft stroking, as she made a valiant effort not to look up, towards the person she knew to be hovering near the fireplace.