In which James Potter has a baby girl. Fairly self-explanatory.

Disclaimer: Unless J.K. Rowling is a 18 year old writing student, I highly doubt that she is writing this.

Green. He thinks, that when she finally opens her eyes, they're going to be green. Regardless of how many times Lily has told him that all babies are born with blue eyes, he's adamant. Her mother's eyes - she's going to have her mother's eyes.

Pacing frantically outside the door, he can hear the woman he loves scream in agony on the otherside. He longs to be by her side, holding her hand but after the first hour she told him if he didn't leave, she'd Avada him on the spot. Well then, so much for appreciating his loyal companionship.

It's all he can do not to press his body up against the door, almost willing the door to disappear. Five hours, five devastatingly long hours, and it's still not over.

"Relax, Prongs," mutters Sirius, who at one point was equally as stressed but had resorted to drowning his jitters in a bottle of firewhiskey, "take a swig."

James simply scowls at him once, hard, before picking up his pacing again. Sirius lets out a laugh and swirled the bottle contemplatively.

"You'll bloody wear a hole in floor if you don't pack it in."

He turns again, scowl on Sirius and goes to open his mouth, only to be interrupted by the sudden relieved cry from the closed room. Following it, barely audible, were the soft wails that would undoubtedly fill their nights for the next year.

James' heart dropped to his stomach. It was over.

The door creaked open gently and Marlene's head poked out with a grin, "You can come in now, Potter."

He didn't think he'd ever moved so fast in his life. Carefully - but quickly - pushing through the door, James stepped into the bedroom. His eyes frantically sought Lily out where he'd last left her. And Merlin, did she look beautiful.

Sprawled out on the bed, her red hair splashed across the pillow like flames on a page. Her skin, still porcelain and dotted with freckles, had a rosy glow and a light sheen of sweat that caught the gas lamp's flicker.

"Sorry I threatened to Avada you," she murmured, her eyes closed as she sat propped against the pillows. Snuggled up against her chest was the smallest bundle James had ever seen. Covered mostly in thick white cotton, he spied just a tiny sprout of bright red hair. "C'mere."

His feet dragged across the floor, pulling him numbly towards her side. All of his previous excitement and anticipation had disappeared, replacing itself with a sudden overwhelming dread.

For nine months, this little thing currently nestled in his wife's arms had been nothing but a growing idea - more like a dream. He could hear it and feel it, but for the first time, he could actually see her.

And, Merlin, he hadn't expected her to be so tiny.

"Are you going to hold her or what?" Lily asked with a slight grin, though it was faded in comparison to the weariness etched on her face.

James swallowed, eyeing the bundle. A small button nose. A scrunched up face. Wriggling limbs the length of his fingers alone. Her whole body looked as if it could fit twice inside his palm.

He didn't notice until then, but his hands were shaking. "I don't want to drop her. What kind of a dad would I be then, eh?" He tried to force a grin, but it didn't quite meet the corner of his lips.

"A bad one," Lily replied, simply holding the baby towards him, "so don't drop her."

Nervously, he slipped his hands under the baby and pulled her into his chest. He was almost right - she probably could fit into the palm of his hand.

Then she sneezed. A small, delicate, kitten sneeze right into his sweater, and he didn't think he'd heard a sound more beautiful. How was it even remotely possible that he could have helped make this? This fragile, petal-like creature that he was falling even more in love with by the second.

It was as if, all of a sudden, everything clicked into perspective. All of his life he'd wanted to play the knight-in-shining-armour, and while Lily was tough enough to hold her own, he finally had someone to look after. To protect. To make sure that they would never get hurt.

A giddiness wells in his stomach and finally he manages to break out a smile. It's small, soft, like her, and he looks down at her as if she was his entire universe.

"What are we calling her?" he asked suddenly, his voice almost snapping with excitement. Lily let out a laugh, settling back against the pillows.

"I was thinking Grace."

Grace. He studies her minuscule features once more. Little Gracie Potter.

After a few moments, he bends his head and presses his lips to her forehead. She smells incredible - a smell describable as anything other than Eau De Newborn.

He murmurs softly, his lips brushing against her feather skin, "Hello Grace Potter."

And with that, she let out a gargle of approval, flicking her eyes open. They weren't blue nor were they green, but a dark colour more recognizable to him than anything else.

Hazel.