Chapter Three: Little Girl

Ron clapped a hand to his mouth, stifling the yawn that forced his lips into a wide circle. His lips chapped together noisily as he rubbed wearily at his eyes. He couldn't ever remember being this tired before in his life. Not even when he, Harry and Hermione were on the run from Death Eaters had he ever been this exhausted. He moved on sluggishly getting in the way of the other Ministry employs who were trying to get past him in a hurry to get home.

"Evening Ron." Arthur clapped his son on the back as he fell into step beside him. "How'd it go last night?'

Ron grumbled incoherently as a response.

"That well?" Arthur chuckled amusedly. "Don't worry son, it'll get better. It always does."

Ron scowled at his father from the corner of his eye like he had anyone else that day who dared to be so cheerful when he was so miserable. "It couldn't get much worse."

Arthur laughed again. "Trust me Ron, it can. Wait until she gets the croup. Then we'll talk about how bad it can get. Your mother and I didn't sleep for weeks when Fred and George had it."

"Yeah well, I don't plan on having her long enough to find out."

"Speaking of which." Arthur glanced at Ron's empty arms. "Where is she? I didn't see her with the other Ministry children."

Ron looked at his father questioningly out of the corner of his eye. "With Ginny. She's watching her while I'm at work. What did you drop in to check on her?"

"Well," a gentle blush crept over Arthur's face. "I didn't really get a chance to see her last night."

"Don't get attached Dad, I'm not keeping her."

"I know that. I just wanted ta say hello. Are you heading to Harry and Ginny's now?"

"Yeah." Ron's mouth gapped open with another yawn. "I told Gin I would come get her after work."

"Don't let me hold you up than." They had made it to the front of the apparition que. Arthur glanced uncertainly at his son. "Are you certain you're in a fine state to apparate?"

Ron threw a mild glare at his father. "I've disapparated under worse."

Arthur threw his hands up. "I was just asking, son. It's part of the father description. It doesn't matter how old your child gets, you're always worried about them. Just don't leave anything behind, all right? Your mother would have my head if she found out."

Ron snorted at the thought of his formidable mother before turning on his heel and disappearing with a pop. He reappeared again several blocks away from Number Twelve Grimmald Drive. He waited a moment hidden in the shadows to make sure he hadn't drawn unwanted attention by his sudden appearance before stepping into view. When he was certain the cost was clear he pulled off his robe and flung it over his arm so that it looked like he was merely carrying a coat. He stepped onto the sidewalk and made his way down the road to the building that Harry and Ginny had made their home out of.

He drew to a stop so that he was halfway between houses Eleven and Thirteen and waited as number Twelve began to shoulder its way into existence. It's was amazing the transformation the building had gone through under Harry and Ginny's care. Without fear of being discovered by unfriendly wizards they had been able to give the house the proper attention it needed. They spent one week alone magically scrubbing all the grime and mold from the windows and walls. They had tossed all the old Black family relics into the rubbish bin along with the Black family tree, Phineus Nigellisi's portrait and the patch of wall that Mrs. Black's portrait had been permanently adhered to. The wall was repaired, the old paper removed and a bright, fresh coat of paint had been added to all the walls. The elf heads had been removed and properly buried in the Black Family Cemetery, something Ron was sure made the Black ancestors roll in their graves over. Ginny had also switched all the old light fixtures with new ones, taking care to pick lamps that would throw light into the very corners of every room. She had also pitched or donated all the old furniture and replaced them with new pieces that had clean lines, comfortable seats and welcoming softness that just invited you to use them.

Though they had never discussed it, Ron knew that Ginny had dropped quite a few Galleons in her campaign against the old house, but it had paid off in the end. For the first time since its existence the house was dark magic free and finally a home. It was almost impossible to recognize this house as the one he remembered from his fifth year. Even the outside showed signs of Ginny's touch. All the window boxes had been repaired and filled with bright flowers Ginny had described as 'Happy'.

Ron's feet shuffled along the new cobles that made up the front walk. He was almost surprised to find the stoop empty. He half expected Ginny to be standing there with a screaming baby in hand, eager to hand her off. Ron let the shiny silver doorknocker fall against the heavy wood three times before ramming his hands into his pockets while he waited. It took several minutes but the door eventually opened to reveal a flushed and smiling Ginny. "You look like hell." She beamed as she rose onto her toes, pecking his cheek quickly before stepping back to let him into the house. "You're a bit earlier than I expected you. She's still sleeping." She closed the door softly behind Ron. "Why don't you come have a cup of tea while you wait?"

"I wouldn't turn down a splash of Brandy if you offered."

Ginny smirked knowingly. "You know you don't have to ask Ron. You're more than welcome to anything Harry has." She nodded her head toward the sitting room where her husband had installed a liquor cabinet, one of the only things he had managed to do before Ginny had moved in with him. Along with all the standard Wizard liquors were most of Harry's Muggle favorites which Ron had come to appreciate as well over the years.

"Help yourself." she invited as she moved across the room to the book she had left open and face down on her seat. She slipped a place marker between the pages before snapping the cover shut and setting it out of the way on the side table. It took her a bit of maneuvering to find a comfortable position on the sofa but had finally managed while at the liquor cabinet Ron had already tossed down a helping of Brandy and was in the process of filling his glass a second time.

"So," Ginny waited until Ron had replaced the bottle and taken a seat in the chair across from her. "What did you find out?"

"Nothing good." He took a big swallow. "It appears she has no living relatives. She comes from a long line of single children on both sides. Which means, of course, we have to dig as far back into the family's history as we can until we find some branch that had more than one child."

"What about her name? I felt ridiculous calling her Baby all day."

"She doesn't have one." I swear he held up his. "It's some strange, Blythe Family tradition. Because they only have one child they want to make sure they name that child right. So they wait a few months after the baby's born to see which name best suits it. We don't really know all the details but they apparently hold a big ceremony and celebrate the naming of the child and…I don't know. I guess they hadn't settled on a name for her yet so she's still Baby Girl Blythe"

"You know," Ginny's brow furrowed in thought, "that's not a bad idea."

"Didn't you just say you felt ridiculous calling her Baby all day long?"

"But I wouldn't be calling ours Baby, I'd be trying out the different names on him. Harry and I are having a bit of trouble deciding."

"Well, I still think Ron is a fine name."

Ginny rolled her eyes, the bright brown orbs twinkling with mirth. "And I still say one Ron in the family is more than enough."

"Wench."

"Pratt."

The two siblings fell into comfortable silence. Ginny took a sip of the water sitting at her elbow while Ron finished off his Brandy, smacking his lips lightly with appreciation. "How was she?" he asked while setting down his empty glass. "I hope she wasn't too much of a bother."

"A bother? Her?" Ginny asked with disbelief. "That child was an angle."

"What?" Ron spluttered, his eyes bugging slightly. "She kept me up all night screaming her head off."

Ginny playfully flipped her hair over her shoulder. "She must like me better."

"Than keep her if you want too. I don't care."

"Sorry Ron. I love watching her. I'd take her if I could. But with this baby coming," she placed her hand on her swollen abdomen, "I can't have another baby in the house. That doesn't mean I mind watching her while you're at work, but she can't stay here all the time."

"Yeah," he hunched forward, his elbows braced on his knees. "I know." The two siblings fell into silence again, but it was a comfortable silence. A silence like they would have enjoyed when they were small children; the very best of friends when they had no others. In the years following Voldemort's defeat and Hermione's move to Spain, Ron had stopped thinking of Ginny as his little sister,… for the most part, and now considered her one of his best friends. He hadn't thought of her that way since he left for Hogwarts. All their childhood it had been the two of them and then suddenly it simply hadn't been. It was noting that Ron planned, but being Harry Potter's best friend had pushed other things like his relationship with his little sister to the back of his brain. It hadn't been until his sixth year when Harry and Ginny had started seeing each other that Ron had begun to question his and Ginny's friendship. Now that Harry and Gin were married and he knew her better than ever he couldn't help but admit that he was happy, not only because it meant that he and Harry were now legally brothers, but because he couldn't think of anyone better for his best friend or his little sister.

With the comfortable silence hanging over them they were both able to hear Sirius James the moment he woke up and began calling for his mother.

"Would you mind?" Ginny asked sweetly, flashing him the same hopeful smile she did as a child, the one that got him to do just about anything for her.

"Why don't you save that look for a time when you really need it?" Ron pushed to his feet and moved quickly toward the door. He bound up the stairs quickly, easily climbing two at a time with his long legs. He reached the nursery and pushed open the door ready to greet his Godson with a bright smile, but stopped when he realized upon spotting the baby in the crib that this was no longer Si's room. The walls were still the same pale blue but instead of the enchanted clouds that glided across the walls there were hundreds of tiny stars that twinkled like the real thing. The crib was still nestled in a quiet corner and rapped snuggly inside a blanket was the Blythe Baby.

Feeling somewhat drawn to her, Ron moved across the room, finding himself standing at her side leaning over the crib rails to get a better look at her. She looked almost sweet, laying there, her head turned to the side, one tiny hand clutching the blanket tight in her fist. Looking down at her sleeping so calmly Ron could almost believe that his mother was right.

Inching his way backwards out of the room, taking care not to make any noise and wake her, Ron exhaled the breath he was holding with a sigh when he had the door closed between them and she hadn't woken. He turned away from the room. Now, where had Harry said Si's new room was? Not being able to recall he moved down the hall opening the door to every room until he finally found him in the room that he and Harry had shared while staying here. A slow smile slid across his lips. Once again Ginny had done an amazing job.

It was an ideal room for any little Wizard. Like his old room the walls were painted the same bright blue with white fluffy clouds that drifted lazily across them. There were wooden goal posts on the wall over his bed and on the wall across. There was a soft Quaffle lying on the floor that could be tossed through the hoops on either set of posts. There were two enchanted Bludggers over head that bounced noiselessly and harmlessly off each other and the walls. There was also a slower moving Snitch that darted about close to the ceiling in flashes of gold and silver. The bedposts and dressers were made of the same rough wood as the hoops. The carpet was a bright green the exact shade of summer grass and the bedspread was a patchwork quilt, each square brandishing the emblem of each of Britain's professional Quidditch teams.

Instead of in his bed like Ron expected to find him, Si was standing at his toy chest which Ron recognized immediately as being modeled after the trunk that held the schools balls. "Hello Si." The little boy turned around stumbled forward into his uncle's arms. With a great swoop Ron scooped him up and tossed him into the air over his head catching him securely in his arms before tossing him up again. The little boy squealed with delight as each toss sent him higher. Ron let him drop a little further the last time and swopped him low, cradled safely in his arms so that his hair grazed the ground, before bringing him back up and settling him on his hip. "How was your nap, mate? All good and rested?" The little boy nodded his head with one big movement. "Have you been good for your mum?"

"Yeah." The little boy nodded again.

"Glad to here it." Ron pressed a kiss to his nephew's cheek as the little boy stuck his thumb into his mouth. "How's about we go down stairs and see what Mum's up too?"

The two boys made their way down the stairs to the first floor, Ron listening to the half babble incoherent sound of his godson speaking around his thumb. They reached the ground floor and Ron strode across the hall toward the sitting room. The clear sound of Ginny's voice reached him halfway across the hall brining him to a stop. He lifted a finger to his mouth "Shushhh…" Si pulled his thumb out of his mouth so that he could copy his uncle making the same sound.

"Let's see what mum and dad are talking about." They moved closer to the door, Si being as quiet and still as his little body would let him.

"I've decided that we're going to host Hermione's coming home party."

"You're mum already said she's do in."

"Yes, I know. But we have more room than mom and dad do and besides I'm going mad with nothing to do all day. I love Sirius James. I love spending all this time with him, I do. But I miss work. I need something to occupy my time and this is the perfect thing to do it. And besides those completely selfish reasons I want to. Hermione is one of my best friends and I want to make sure her coming home is perfect. Besides, I think we'll have a better chance of getting Ron to come if it's here."

"Actually," Ron said as he came around the side of the door. "Mum would have had a better chance. She has more guilt power than you do. But thanks for the warning Gin. I'll make sure to stay clear of Mum for a while. Hi ya Harry."

"Ron." Harry nodded.

"Daddy!" Si, flung himself sideways, arms outstretched toward Harry.

"Hello son," Harry took Si out of Ron's arms and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Staying for dinner?"

"No." Ron rammed his hands into his pockets. "I'm just here to pick up the baby. Besides I have some work I need to get done tonight."

"Are you sure?" Ginny struggled to her feet. "We have more than enough."

"Yes, I know that. And I appreciate the offer, but no thank you, really. There's a new recipe I've been meaning to try and I'm a little behind on my house cleaning. Hopefully if the monster sleeps tonight I can get the laundry done as well."

"Ron," Ginny's eyes flared with indignation. "Stop it. She's only a baby."

"Why do people keep telling me that? Do you all think I don't recognize one when I see it? When Sirius James was born I didn't have any trouble identifying him."

"You know, maybe if you gave her a chance you would realize that this situation you've found yourself in isn't as bad as you think it is. Merlin knows, you might even find that you like it. No wonder the poor child didn't sleep last night. Everything about you screams hatred toward her."

"I recon it's lucky for the both of us than that she's not staying with me for long."

The two siblings squared off across the room from each other, arms crossed, eyes narrowed and chins squared in a similar pose.

"See that look on Mummy's face, Si?" Harry whispered. "That's why we don't make her angry."

Ron's eyes flashed to Harry for a moment before returning to Ginny's reddened face. "I should go. Thanks for watching her Gin."

"Ron," Ginny called after his retreating back. "If you still have her on Monday you can drop her for the day."

Ron looked back over his shoulder. "Thanks. See ya later Si."

"Bye." The little boy waved his hand at his uncle, his head resting calmly on Harry's shoulder.

"Ten quid he calls tomorrow begging for help."

Ten minutes later Ron left number Twelve, baby in arm, shoulders squared and a determined gleam in his eyes. There was no way in hell he was going to let Ginny get the better of him. Begging for help by tomorrow? He wasn't a boy anymore. He was a fully grown, fully trained, Ministry Employed Auror. Not only that, he was Captain of the best, most discreet team the Ministry had. If the Ministry trusted to lead his team into some of the most dangerous situations the former Death Eaters could cook up, than certainly he could be trusted to take care of one small baby.

"Please. Please stop crying. I beg you." He tried making the strange shushing sound he had heard Ginny and his sisters in law make when they were trying to sooth their own children, but it only seemed to make the infant cry all the louder. "Please, little girl." He fell to his knees, bringing his face closer to her level. "Please stop crying. Don't you understand? I don't know what to do. I don't know what you want." Her little arms flailed, throwing the blankets off her body. Her eyes disappeared into thin slits of fury and her face darkened to blood red.

"What do you want?" Not knowing what else to do Ron lifted the baby out of her bed. In his head he ran over the check list his mother had given him. She couldn't be hungry, he had fed her not half an hour ago. She didn't have gas, he had taken care of that as well. He slipped a finger into her nappie and felt a slight dampness. "Is that the problem?" he reached for her bag. "Do you have a soiled bottom?" The strap of the bag slipped off the end of his finger. After fumbling for the strap a few minutes in the darkness he tried shifting the baby to one hand but quickly realized that however big his hand was it wasn't big enough to support her fully. Finally he settled her in the crook of his left arm so that she was nestled against his chest. He crouched down to retrieve the bag and when he straightened up the baby's cries faded to a whimper.

Ron looked down at the baby with surprise. "Is that what you wanted?" He set the bag down on the table he used to change her. "What are you thinking little girl?" He placed her gently on the tabletop. "I thought we agreed we would avoid each other. Don't you remember? You could stay with me as long as you left me alone? Now here you are breaking our agreement." Her bottom cleaned and covered Ron picked her up so that she was at eye level with him. "What are you doing little girl? This doesn't look like you're trying to avoid me. No it doesn't. Are you trying to break our agreement? Is that what you're doing? It's not going to work. Nope." He set her against his chest so that her head lay on his shoulder. "And just so you know, I'm not doing this because I like you. No, I'm doing this because I have to be in to work early tomorrow and I need to get some sleep. So I'll make a deal with you." He started slowly pacing the length of the room, giving a slight rock to his step. "I'll hold you until you fall asleep and you let me get about four hours, more would be great, but I'll settle for four. How does that sound? Do we have a deal? Huh? Do we little girl?"

The baby's whimpers had faded away completely until now there was only the soft draw of her shuddering breath. He could feel the gentle rise and fall of her chest against his shoulder and the pull of the fabric against his skin where the baby clutched the soft fabric of his robes in her fist. The corner of Ron's mouth twitched slightly, "I guess I'll take that as a yes."

He moved carefully across the room, taking extra special care not to jostle the sleeping child. "This isn't so bad." He said softly, bending forward to help ease her off his shoulder and into the bassinet. "I should have tried picking you up days ago." He delicately uncurled her fingers from his robe. "Maybe Mum was right. I have no idea what I'm doing here. But we'll keep that our secret, okay? Can you imagine what the wizarding world would think if they found out I was bested by a baby? Not good I tell you. Not good at all." He laid her on her back and tucked the blankets in around her. "At least one good thing came from all this. After Mum sees how bad a job I'm doing with you she'll leave me alone about having one of my own. Yep," he straightened to his full height. "This might turn out all right. Good night little girl." He whispered before turning and slowly creeping out of the room.

Once through the door he closed it as quietly as he could before turning and collapsing against it. When the room remained silent behind him he let out the breath of air he hadn't realized he was still holding. It wasn't until he was in his office on the main floor that he allowed himself to fully relax. He collapsed with a flourish into his favorite chair. He took a moment to let the quiet of the house sweep over him and pull the stress from his body. He had almost forgot what a quiet house sounded like. This was how he liked his home to be; dark, quiet and calm.

Closing his eyes he sunk back into his chair and let his body go lax. He knew he couldn't stay there too long or he was going to fall asleep. And as comfortable as this chair was he knew he would be sore in the morning if he did. But this house, this room acted like a drug to his senses. There was nothing as calming and relaxing as being surrounded by the house and furnishing you had procured through your own sweat and blood.

When he had bought the house he had had plans of filling it, not only with objects, but with people. And not just any people, his people. His family. When he bought this house he had dreams of making it a home. But he had bitterly given up those dreams a long time ago. He now resigned himself to a life alone. It was enough having his family and their children. He didn't need anyone else. Not anymore.

He felt the tingle of the breeze wafting in through his window tickle his skin and forced himself to get up and set about cleaning and closing up the house for the night. He made his way through all the rooms on the main floor placing the appropriate alarm charms on the windows, locking the front and back doors and setting about cleaning the kitchen. Three days worth of dishes and bottles were stacked in the sink and on the counter tops. Unfinished meals had found their way into the bin and were now causing the room to smell slightly of spoiled dairy and rotting meat.

Crinkling up his nose with disgust Ron banished the contents of the bin, scouring it clean with his wand before putting it back into place. He set the proper spells to begin washing the dishes while he set tea to boil. Monitoring the process of the dishes while he worked at scrubbing the counters and the table top, the kitchen was soon finished, the dishes once again replaced in his cupboard. He was just putting away the last pan in its rack when the tea kettle whistled. He quickly pulled it off the flame, cursing himself for forgetting the sleeping child upstairs. He listened intently for a moment to see if the kettles shrill whistle had woke her up but when the house remained quiet he concluded he most have grabbed it soon enough.

He poured the water into a cup and added the leaves. He knew he could have just as easily magiced the tea into readiness but once he had started making his own tea he had discovered that he much preferred the taste of tea that had been handmade. Bringing the tea with him, he climbed the steps to his room on the top floor. He paused outside the baby's room and listened a moment before moving on. In his room he set the tea on his bedside table to steep while he readied for bed. He quickly changed into his pajama's and climbed under the covers with a manila folder. He laid the folder open on his thighs and started at the beginning going through everything the Ministry had been able to gather about the Blythes. He rifled through pictures and reports, documents on the family's past, copies of transactions s they had made from Gringotts and the Ministry. He went through the information with the trained eye of an Auror, looking for any seemingly insignificant fact or bit of information that could help him with his investigation.

By the time he had finished the last of his tea he had reached the back of the folder. He moved aside a correspondence Felix had found that took place between Timothy Blythe and Malacar Amadeus outlining the details of how exactly Timothy was going to get Amadeus out of the country, when he spotted a photo he hadn't seen yet clipped to the folder. He pulled it free of the clip and brought it into the light so he could better see.

Despite all the horrible things Ron had just read about Timothy and Vyvica Blythe and what they had done, he felt the first swell of pity for them since beginning their case. In his hand he held the only picture in existence of the small family. It must have been taken the day the baby was born. Vyvica was looking sweaty, disheveled and tired but extremely happy lying in a luxurious bed that looked like it could entirely fill Ron's bedroom. In her arms she held a red faced and slightly goopy looking baby. Despite the unattractiveness of the newly born baby, there was no mistaking the loving look in Vyvica's eyes as she gazed upon her child. Timothy was on the bed with the two of them, his arms wrapped protectively around his wife and daughter cradling them both against his body.

Ron replaced the photo in the file and was about to flip it closed when he changed his mind. He removed the picture and tossed the file aside. Rolling out of bed he padded across the room and down to the room where the baby was sleeping. He slipped inside and crept to the crib. He watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest while she slept for several minutes. Licking his lips he cast a sticking charm to the back of the photo before pressing it high on one of the cribs bars so that the baby could see it when she woke up. "I'm sorry." He took a steadying breath. "I'm so sorry."