We're sitting in the living room. Harry has six month old Libby on his lap.
She can sit up and crawl now; she makes noises but hasn't yet said any real words.
She has Weasley hair and her eyes are green like Harry's. She looks just like her sister, and adores her.
I on the other hand am sitting with Eloise on my knee. Her hair is brighter red than anyone else's in the family. She is now two years and four months old.
We've just got back from the Burrow. I feel sorry for my girls; they have 11 cousins to remember the names of (almost 12, because Fleur's 8 months pregnant. It's about time too, because Victoire is three already!).
"Gin? Harry?" It's Ron in the fire.
"Uncle Ron!" Eloise slides off the sofa and toddles over to the fire.
Libby struggles off Harry's knee and crawls over to join her sister. "Uh-uh!" She yells.
"Hi girls," Ron smiles warmly.
"Uncle Ron - why you here?"
"I came to talk to Mummy and Daddy,"
"Mummy, Daddy, it's Uncle Ron!"
"We know girls - Libby, no touching the fire!" Harry scolds and lifts her up.
"Huh-uh," says Libby dejectedly.
"Hi Ron," Harry smiles as he sits down beside Eloise, and places Libby in his arms.
"Hi Harry mate. Look 'Mione and I were wondering if you wanted to come round for dinner tonight or something?"
"Yes, we'd love that! Gin?"
I punch the air. "Yesss! No cooking!"
"That's settled then!" Ron laughs. "I'll tell Mione."
His face disappears. And as I watch Harry, Eloise and Libby silhouetted by the glow of the fire, I think, this is what family should be like. This is perfect.