Disclaimer: Read the first chapter.

- Shrumff.

- No, Alex, not shrumff, daa-da.

- Lexxsh shrumff.

- Oh, for Go… Ginny?

- Yes love?

- Your son is a narcissist.

- A narcissist, Harry? He is barely one year old, how can you tell he’s a narcissist?

- I’m pretty sure he is. Just listen to him: instead of saying a simple word like, I don’t know, Dada, he’s trying to say his name. Is that normal?

- Dada? Harry, we had decided we would teach them together!

- Well, I just wanted to give Alex a little head start…

- You promised! You… you cheater! I will ne…

- Mama?

- Sophie? You said…

- Oops.

- So what exactly were you saying love?

- I… I was telling you to keep teaching Alex! Honestly Harry, don’t you ever listen to what I have to say?

- Yes dear.

- Good. Now, come with me Sophie, Mama’s going to tell you a little story, ok?

- Grumpfth Mama.

- Yes, that’s right; Mama’s going to tell you the story of a little boy named Dudley who babbled so much that his tongue started…

- Ginny!

- … to swell and swell until he... Harry?

- Don’t… oh, leave it.

- Yes, dear.

- Mama shrumfes da.

- Yes, she does Alex. Now, just add one more ‘da’ and it will be perfect.

- Glurph.

- No, that’s Papa. I’m Mama. Maa-maa.

- Glurph buger.

- Yes, Evy, good girl! Papa’s playing with Lea and your Bludgers. Now, you must say Mama. Come on, Maaa-ma.

- Buger! Buger!

- Harry, I hate you.

- You can’t.

- Why can’t I?

- Because you vowed to love me for the rest of your life.

- You were the one who vowed to love me for the rest of your life!

- Same thing.

- Not quite.

- You're hurting me.

- I don't care. I hate you for buying those damned… things.

- Ginny! Not in front of the babies!

- Oh. I didn’t… I mean, do you think they caught it?

- Dan buger! Dan buger!

- You can congratulate yourself. You just initiate our baby daughter in the fine art of cursing.

- Oh, God, what am I going to do? Do you think she’ll be a traumatized child?

- Buger! Buger!

- Nah, I think she’ll manage.

- Harry, I solemnly swear that I’ll never, never again try to teach our children a single word.

- You’re doing fine, love, just fine.

- Well, you all turned out pretty well, haven’t you? I mean, aside from Percy.

- Yeah, I think so.

- Why are you asking me this?

- I… nothing.

- Ginny, what’s wrong?

- Harry I… I’m scared.

- Of what?

- Just plain scared. What if I can’t raise our children properly? What if they turn out like Percy? Worse, what if they turn out like Malfoy?

- Ginny, hold on a second: “What if I can’t raise our children”? What about me? They are our children. We’ll raise them together, do you understand? There’s no me or you here. It’s us and our babies. We’ll love them forever, even if they turn out like Percy or Malfoy. Though I’m pretty sure they won’t, with such a fantastic father like me.

- You’re so conceited, Potter. I wonder how I stand to be married to you.

- You love me.

- Of course.

- ...

- ...

- ...

- ...

- ...

- Harry?

- Hmpf?

- Thank you.

- ...

- Great.