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date April 13th, 1961 time 03 : 21 AM
Reinhard groaned as the mewling cries of his four month old daughter interrupted his rather pleasant dream.
His wife, Farrah, shifted in his arms and let out a small moan of discontent of her own.
"What time is it?" He asked groggily, answering his own question by glancing at the bedside clock that was ticking beside them through slitted eyes.
It read three twenty-one AM and Reinhard shut his eyes tightly, willing his baby girl to fall back asleep without any parental intervention. He knew it was useless; Amaryllis never cried without cause, very much unlike their first born, Rodolphus.
"She's never hungry at this time," Farrah said, turning in Reinhard's arms and pressing her face into his chest, "Do you think it's time to increase her portion, maybe? The doctor did say, and she is quite a little one-"
"Shh," He hushed, pressing her face further into his shirt to muffle her voice, "You worry too much. She's fine. Maybe she isn't hungry. Maybe she had a little late night accident and is feeling a little uncomfortable."
She hummed against him and then sighed softly when Reinhard pushed her away to get up.
"I'll go check on her," He assured her with a light peck on the lips, "But if she's hungry, I'm afraid I won't be of much help," He pointed toward his flat chest, earning a swat up the head from his wife.
"Check up on Roddie as well, won't you? He always knows when she's awake. Especially when she's crying."
Reinhard nodded, hoisting up his dressing gown and foregoing his slippers in favour of bare feet.
Large yawns slipped past his lips every few steps and his eyes watered from residual sleep.
When he reached his elder child's room, he put his ear to the closed door and then pushed it open slightly. He winced when the hinges creaked noisily, praying to all the Gods above that little Rodolphus Lestrange wouldn't wake up.
He let out a sigh of relief when he found his son's pleasantly still form under the covers, his light snores carrying through the room.
The night light in the corner threw a dim glow across his green bed covers. There were shadows playing across the room; some stayed still like black mass swallowing their carpeted floors while others danced across Rodolphus' dark brown hair.
"Sleeping like a baby," Reinhard murmured to himself, closing the door, "Which takes us to our next destination."
Just four months shy, Reinhard and Farrah Lestrange could not be happier with the little family they'd made for themselves.
