#however I love dad!ron and domestic rhr so here we are

[remedialpotions]

So I saw a post- one that I actually noticed you liked as well...but what's your take on Hermione persuading Ron to take his muggle driving test/how Ron was convinced he should do so (maybe even on his own)?

“She’s eleven,” said Hermione miserably. “Eleven.”

“I know,” replied Ron as he climbed into bed beside her. “We’ve just had a whole party about it.”

“But I still can’t believe it.” Hermione’s head dropped back against her pillow, a few rogue curls escaping the knot of hair at the base of her neck. “Remember when she was born?”

“Yeah,” Ron chuckled, “vaguely.”

“It feels like it was - I don’t want to say yesterday, of course it doesn’t feel like it was yesterday but there’s no way it was eleven years ago.” Restless, Hermione sat back up. “And before we know it, the summer will have ended and she’ll be off to Hogwarts.”

“I know.” Ron felt a familiar little squeeze around his heart; it was happening more and more lately when he thought about his little girl, the precious, headstrong, whip-smart light of his life, boarding a train and leaving him behind. “But she’s so excited about it.”

“She’s probably going to forget all about us,” Hermione lamented. “She’ll be throwing our letters in the bin by October.”

“I really wouldn’t go that far.” Ron reached out to place his hand over Hermione’s, squeezing lightly. “I thought that was the whole point of, y’know, teaching them to read and do maths and everything, though. So they can grow up and be on their own.”

“I just wish they’d stay small for longer.”

Ron didn’t disagree. All day, while his daughter had played Quidditch with her cousins and opened gifts and exulted in the simple joys of a day dedicated to celebrating her, a barrage of memories had forced its way through his mind: the pink-cheeked bundle sleeping on his chest, the toddler who flung her arms around his knees with unadulterated glee when he arrived home from work, the little girl sat astride his shoulders at the London Zoo. For her to be eleven, on the cusp of brewing potions and transfiguring matches into needles and levitating feathers… he had not expected it, but it felt like a loss. 

“We could always just have another, then,” said Ron with a grin, “if you’re so desperate to have a baby around.”

Hermione’s head swiveled slowly toward him. “Have you gone mad?”

“Oh, come on.” He rolled over to face her. “Doesn’t that sound fun? Nappies and midnight feedings - oh, and teething! Teething’s the best-“

Her eyes narrowed - but even so, Ron detected just a touch of amusement playing on the corners of her mouth. “Are you quite done?”

He laughed heartily, then, a small thrill of satisfaction rushing through him at the exasperation on her face. “So that’s a no, then, on the baby?”

“I think you already knew that.”

Lifting their linked hands, he kissed the back of hers, and her expression softened. “It is strange, though,” he agreed, “that we’ll actually be sending off one of our own at the platform this year.”

“I’ll have to check that my dad’s old car still runs,” said Hermione thoughtfully. “We hardly ever use it.”

For years they had tagged along on the first of September to see off their nieces and nephews, starting with Teddy’s first year. But they always Apparated there, with the exception of the past few years when Rose and Hugo had wanted to join in, and then Hermione had driven an old vehicle that used to belong to her parents. Most of the time, it sat parked at the kerb in front of their home, patiently waiting to be driven.

“You know,” said Ron, contemplative, “I could drive her to King’s Cross. Drive us, I mean, we’re all going. But I could get my licence.”

“You could do,” replied Hermione. “But I don’t mind doing it, really. It’s not like we use the car all the time.”

“Right, but I still reckon I should learn how. There was talk back when I was an Auror, of having us all learn how. Just in case there was some kind of emergency.”

Hermione nodded. “But you’re not an Auror anymore.”

“I know, but there could still be a - I don’t know, some kind of situation - where I might need to drive a car.” 

“I’m sorry,” she began, lips pinched to hold back laughter, “but what sort of emergency scenario are you imagining that requires you to operate a Muggle vehicle? Are you living in a spy film?”

Ron laughed along with her. “I might be! I’m just saying, you never know when it might come in handy.”

Lying back down, Hermione turned on her side to face him. “It would be nice if I didn’t always have to drive. But why now?” she asked, curious. “You haven’t really had much interest in it before.”

“Right.” Ron turned onto his back, eyes cast up at the ceiling. “I think it’s just… I don’t know, it’s probably silly.”

“No,” said Hermione softly. “It probably isn’t.”

Ron let out a slow breath. “She used to need us for everything, right? To feed her and change her nappies and read to her and generally keep her alive, and - and you’re right,” he went on ruefully, “she’s grown up so bloody fast. She doesn’t need us for a whole lot anymore, and I just want her to need me for something.”

“You’re her dad,” said Hermione, voice low and gentle. “She’ll always need you.”

“I know, but I feel like…” He turned his head towards her and their eyes locked. Warmth and reassurance glowed in hers, a soothing tonic to his nerves. “If there’s something I can still do for her, before she’s grown up and out of the house, I want to do it. Even if it’s something small like this. I know it sounds stupid-”

“No,” she interrupted with a shake of her head. “No, it doesn’t. I love you for it, actually.”

Ron allowed himself a smile. “Besides, I’ve already had some practice.”

“Have you? When?”

“I drove all the way to Hogwarts that time!” he laughed, relishing as she groaned and rolled away from him. “So it can’t be that hard.”