„Let's call him James!"

Ginny's sudden exclamation made him drop the fruit bowl he'd been carrying carefully from the kitchen. She was laying sprawled over the couch, telly on and their cat lounging on her belly. She might've been seven months pregnant, but she didn't lose a bit of her appeal, her eyes still shining with a fiery spark.

„Merlin, Ginny, d'you want him to take after his grandfather?"

„I thought we loved James", she pouted a bit, popping a strawberry into her mouth and changing the channel with her left hand, using her right to drag Harry closer. Her fingers found his hair and started ruffling through it.

„We do love James, but he's only a name away from a complete menace! What's next, he'll be James Sirius Potter?"

A moment of silence.

„You're joking!"

„It doesn't sound that bad."

Needless to say, the green eyed baby with a spot of impossible hair atop his tiny head, born two months later was named James Sirius Potter. If Harry knew one thing, it was not to argue with Ginevra Weasley. Ever.