----Chapter two----

It must have been hours since I had sat down to the desk because the window above my head had turned pink in color. I turned to my right and gazed into the crib. My daughter, now named Ginerva Lillian (Gin for short), was sleeping on her back peacefully, just like her mother. I grinned sadly and turned back to my papers. Hastily, I scribbled my initials on another and the last dotted line. The eagle feather quill dropped from my hand and landed on top of the papers with a soft clunk. Finally, I was done.

Behind me, the door creaked loudly. I winced and looked over to the crib fearfully. Gin hadn't moved a muscle. She gave a small snort, kicked out, and became motionless again.

"Oh, that was loud wasn't it?"

"Oh, no, no, she just moves for no apparent reason."

Sarah rolled her eyes as well and sighed, closing the door quietly with the toe of her shoe. "Yeah, okay, whatever. Sandwich?"

"What?" I blinked, turning to face Sarah. I want a what? And why?

"Do. You. Want. A. Sandwich? Saaaannnndddwiiiiiiiichhh? " Sarah replied slowly, as if I were a slow, mentally handicapped man that had forgotten what food was entirely. "You know, the thing made of bread, usually veggies, meats and ch-"

"I know," I snapped curtly. I stood up, and, in one long stride, stood next to her. "I know what a sandwich is, thank you."

Sarah just grinned and dumped the sandwich into my hands.

"Good, now eat. You won't be doing that today with such a lively baby on your hands."

"Right."

The sandwich didn't look so…appealing. Mayonnaise was ripping down the sides, little tufts of lettuce and multi-colored cheese poked out from under the bread. I must have made an unpleasant face because Sarah snorted loudly and ripped the sandwich away from my hands and turned away.

"You could have told me you didn't want it."

"B-"

"No, no! No need to explain. I'll just go and take the sandwich with me…and-and-and...let you do…something."

"B-"

Sarah didn't answer. She had walked out of them room by the time my second broken 'but' was uttered. I sighed exasperatedly and rolled my eyes towards the white ceiling. Most people usually find patience hidden inside the plaster that makes up the ceiling. And most people talk to the ceiling if they can't find the patience they need. But I am not like most people. I haven't found a shred of patience in the ceiling, nor am I going to start talking to it. I can't risk Gin's silence for patience.

A soft gurgling stopped my thought train. I glanced over my shoulder and grinned. Gin was awake and as lively as Sarah called her earlier.

"Hey," I whispered, padding over to the crib. "Hey, how're you?"

Little Gin blinked and tilted her head, ceasing her gurgling. I tilted my head as well, almost mocking the infant's expression. Could she- nahh…ludicrous.

"Well, obviously you're doing fine. You're not screaming or squirming for that matter. Speaking of which, you've got a nice set of lungs there kid. You probably got that from-from-from…"

My throat started to tighten on me. I couldn't get 'mother' out. It was too hard. Losing Ginny is still a fresh memory, and it hurts. I stumbled on for a few more seconds and finally said 'yeah' quite lamely.

Gin started to gurgle again and closing and clenching her tiny fist. Well...maybe she is more like her mother than I had originally thought. Now Gin was whimpering, squirming, and scrunching her face up tightly. Oh, this isn't a good sign.

"No, shush, don't cry Gin, please? Please? Your daddy is only asking you to do this now and you can cry all you want later. Please?" I pleaded with my daughter, who was still whimpering.

Maybe she wants to be held.

Of course! That must be what she wants. I scooped her tiny body up quickly and cradled her against my chest. Gin stopped whimpering instantly, and, instead of squirming, cuddled into my shirt. I grinned softly and pulled her closer. Maybe, just maybe, having this baby wouldn't be so bad. But like many good things in life, our touching moment was ruined.

"Mr. Potter! Be careful, she's not a snitch, you know. It's not healthy for a child to be grabbed like that."

Ahh. Sarah is back. All nice and fluffy...outraged.

"Not a snitch?" I asked, looking down to Gin, who yawned. "You sure?"

"Very sure."

"Quite sure?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, quite sure."

"Right. Not a snitch. Right."

There was a shot period of silence. Then Sarah spoke up again.

"Mr. Potter?"

"Yeah?" I looked up, cocking my head to the side, somewhat curious.

"Shut up."

"Right, right."

There. Another chapter… a day after I posted the first. That is a new record for me, I swear. I think it's a bit short, but…oh well. You guys don't mind, right? Right. Of course not. Once again, I own nothing! I only own the crappy plot. The little snitch thing was inspired by a piece of fanart I saw...and I forgot whoever did it, but thank them for that…I can promise you the next chapter won't be out tomorrow or the next day for that matter. Maybe Friday… Maybe. I've got a funeral to go to so who knows, eh?

Bye.