Ron hadn't meant to wake him. It was sometime after two in the morning, and he knew he shouldn't have snuck into Jack's room to check up on him. His mother had made him swear that he wouldn't go in and disturb the little tyke, especially after it had taken her over an hour to get him to fall asleep ("I mean it, Ron--don't you dare spoil all my hard work!").

But he just couldn't resist. The minute he had arrived home, there had been nothing more he wanted to do at that moment than to see his son.

Jack stirred, lifting his head at first, then turning it in the direction of the noise. Ron bit his bottom lip, scolding himself for having made the door creak (why hadn't he just apparated inside the room??). After a while, he saw Jack lift the rest of himself up, his hair was standing in all directions, a sight that made Ron chuckle under his breath, which he hoped wouldn't wake the boy even further.

"Dada?"

Too late. He'd been spotted.

"Hey, mate," he whispered, making his way to Jack's crib. He stubbed his toe on the wardrobe along the way, but managed to stifle a curse (Hermione would have killed him, had he let one slip in front of Jack).

"Dada, play?"

Ron laughed. "Shh... No, Daddy's not here to play... go back to sleep..."

"Why no play?"

"It's late... you need to sleep."

"Sleep with you and Mummy?"

"Mummy's not here at the moment, Jack..."

In the darkness, he saw Jack scrunch up his face in bewilderment.

"Where Mummy go?"

"She's at the hospital, mate," he said. "Mummy had the baby tonight..."

This seemed to only confuse the two-year old even more. "Baby? In Mummy's tummy?"

"Yes," Ron laughed, "the baby in Mummy's tummy." He came right up to the crib, gently resting his chin on top of the bars. "You got a little sister tonight, Jack. Madeline. Baby Madeline."

"Sister," Jack echoed, though it was clear that the idea eluded him. He raised his arms towards Ron. "Dada, up?"

"Your mum's going to kill me for keeping you up," Ron said, "but all right... Reckon you can't really tell on me, can you?"

Jack gurgled; Ron guessed it was his attempt at laughing. Ron lifted him out of the crib and nestled him against his hip, and Jack settled his head on Ron's chest.

"Did I ever tell you about the day you were born?"

He knew Jack was far too young to comprehend any of this, but he proceeded anyway. He walked to the rocking chair and sat down, then gently began to rock. The swaying motion seemed to lull Jack back into drowsiness; Ron felt him squirm in his arms, trying to find a comfortable position, then heard his breath begin to slow into a smooth, even rhythm.

"It was a night a lot like this one," he said. "Mummy shook me awake and said, 'Ron, I think my water just broke...' Doesn't that sound funny, Jack? Mummy's water broke?"

He laughed.

"We were so scared, but so excited to see you... We'd waited nine months for you to come out, mate. It seemed like forever, but then before we knew it, there you were, fighting your way out..."

He closed his eyes and listened to Jack's breathing.

"We didn't think you would ever come out," he said, chuckling softly. "You seemed determined to make it as hard for Mummy as possible. Fourteen hours we waited. It felt like forever... But then... then you finally came out... and I didn't think it would be possible for something to be so perfect..."

He looked down at his son. Jack had fallen back asleep completely now. Carefully, Ron stood from the rocking chair and walked back to the crib, laying him inside as gently as he could.

"I didn't think I'd ever be capable of making anything that was perfect," he whispered, watching Jack's chest rise and fall as he took in air. "Then you proved me wrong. You showed me... you showed me I could be good at something after all..."

He leaned down, then as lightly as possible, placed a kiss on his son's forehead.

"Thank you, Jack. Thank you for letting me be your father..."