"Your father's going to be late for work again." Ginny told Lily, spooning applesauce into the toddler's mouth. Lily giggled, as if in response, and allowed the applesauce to dribble down her chin.
"Is Dad still sleeping?" asked James.
"Yes."
"Can we wake him up?"
Ginny paused thoughtfully. Harry did need to get up—and soon. But she wasn't sure a four-year old and a six-year-old were the right men for the job. Eventually, her frustration got the better of her, and, knowing what she was condemning her husband to, she said, "Go ahead."
James's face lit up. "Come 'on, Al, let's go jump on Daddy!"
Harry had been curled up beneath the covers, blissfully unaware, when something heavy landed on his chest and woke him with a start.
"Good Morning, Daddy!" James howled. Harry groaned.
"Mummy says you have to get up now." Albus giggled, attacking Harry's feet while James tried to use his stomach as a trampoline.
"Ow—Ah—James—" Harry stuttered. "James, you're hurting Daddy's tummy!"
"Well, come on, then!" James whined, grabbing Harry's hand and trying to drag him out of bed. Harry groped blindly around the nightstand in search of his glasses, but only succeeded in knocking them to the ground. At that moment, Harry lost his balance and James managed to pull him to the ground. He hit the floor with a thump and a sickening crunch!. Harry stood up, dusted himself off, and pointed his wand in what he hoped was the general direction of the flattened glasses.
"Reparo!" He said, then put the glasses on. For the first time that morning, Harry got a clear view of his two sons—James, grinning toothlessly, his dark hair tousled; and Albus, with pictures of broomsticks on his pajamas, looking up eagerly with eyes like his grandmother's—and forgot to be angry.
"Good morning, dear." Said Ginny as Harry entered the kitchen. She sipped her coffee casually. Harry rolled his eyes.