AN: Forgive me for the original version! I'm a n00b with fanfic and the formatting was wrong :p

James was three weeks old before they left the house. It wasn't like they planned it on purpose either. It was just easier to change his nappies at home, to burp and feed him, to keep his explosions in check.

But one day, Ginny just put her foot down. "We need to see the sunlight!" she announced, her red hair bobbing on her shoulders. The dark circles under her eyes showed her desperation.

Harry, who was still on paternity leave, could only nod and agree.

So out they went, out into the sunlight as a family of three. The harsh lit hit them first, so bright it was nearly blinding. Harry should have seen that as a promotion but his wife was driven, dammit. Her shoulders were thrown back, her freckled nose pointed towards the sun, her back upright. She'd never looked more beautiful.

The first mistake happened from the off. They loaded James into his pram, buckled him in, and headed down the path. But Ginny, in her haste, didn't see Harry's foot.

"Sodding—" he swore, biting his lip.

Ginny's hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide. "Oh no, sorry! I didn't mean—"

Harry waved her off. "Fine, it's fine, let's just go."

Who knew a pram could be so heavy? Harry supposed it was a fancy contraption, all straps and hooks. Ginny picked it from the shop back when she was still "big as a house" (her words), but he reckoned he didn't hate the thing, really. More that—

"Nooo!" Ginny's cry cut through his musings. Harry looked up, startled, to see rain beginning to fall from the sky.

Harry winced and tried to put things in a positive light. "Maybe it's just a drizzle, love. Surely—"

He was cut off when the drizzle turned to a downpour not a minute later. It was April, after all; these things happened in April. But they weren't meant to happen the first time they got a bloody break!

With a groan, Ginny turned the pram around and headed back up the path. The air was already turning humid and moist, beginning to carry that damp smell. Harry knew they were having similar thoughts: it wasn't going to let up, was it? With a sigh, Harry helped her turn the pram around and they began the tiny trek back.

James started shrieking about halfway there, even though their house was still in sight. Ginny let out a frustrated whimper and tucked his now-soggy blanket around his face, but (predictably) that did nothing. Harry grumbled too. He hadn't realized how much he needed the fresh air, how much—

NO! His heart jumped into his throat as his whole body catapulted forwards. He caught a fleeting glimpse of his trainer, caught on a rock, before he somersaulted head over heels and landed in a puddle.

Oh for the love of...

He stood up, brushing off his trousers, before he realized there was no use. Everything was soaked through with water and mud. His glasses were even speckled with it. He felt Ginny's hand resting on his elbow as she pulled him to his feet.

"No, no, get the baby!" he said hastily. "I'm fine, I'm—"

"You're my family too, Harry," she said fiercely, trying her hardest to glare at him even though the rain pelted down on her face.

He gave her a weak smile but nonetheless reached for the pram. James' cries were now a full-fledged sob.

By the time they reached the house again, the three were all soaked to the bone. Harry was somehow the only one covered in mud, but no one looked particularly good. Predictably, James was still sobbing, his tiny face screwed up in discomfort.

"There there," Ginny soothed, pressing his face to her breast. But that baby wasn't having it. He thrashed against her, kicking her now, as if screaming that he was displeased, darn it, and they'd better help!

"I'll erm put the kettle on?" Harry suggested, staring at the two of them uncertainly.

"You'll of nothing of the kind," said Ginny sharply. "You'll take these soaking clothes off the baby, then yourself, then the two of you can take a bath. Ok?"

He could only nod weakly and obey. Mother always knows best.

It was an hour before things settled down at all. James was napping his cot, Ginny and Harry were wearing dressing gowns, and the fire was crackling beside them. She'd whipped up some soup as they sat at the kitchen table, their fingers brushing against each other.

"That was miserable," he said, stating the obvious.

Ginny just shook her head. "My fault for trying to go on a walk in April."

"You need to get out," Harry replied, shrugging. "It's only natural. I do reckon, though, that a hippogriff with a hernia would have caused a bit less destruction, especially seeing as how I was soaked to the bone."

Then is where the third fatal error happened. Ginny, sleep-deprived and exhausted, snorted into her soup. But that wasn't all. Harry could only watch in horror as it unfolded, right in front of his eyes. In one swift movement, he watched as she giggled into the soup, then a scalding air bubble hit her right in the nose… and… no!

The soup hit Ginny, square in the face, hard enough for her to drop the bowl, right on the floor. Right onto his foot.

"SODDING PIECE OF—" Harry let out a swear, hopping on one foot, as Ginny rushed to apologize and reached for her wand.

"No no no!" Ginny cried, magicking up the mess. "We don't have any Dittany, Harry, I'm so—"

There was a half-second of silence as they stared at each other: Harry still holding his foot, which had now been tripped over, burned, and had soup dropped on it. Ginny, hair still wet from the shower, but now covered in soup. Still, though, things could get worse, couldn't they? They both knew what was coming… and then it did. James' ear-piercing wail cracked through the house, growing angrier by the second.

Right then, Harry knew he had two choices: laugh or cry.

Thankfully, Ginny made the choice for him… and chose the latter.

It started with a tiny guffaw, a small giggle, and slowly escalated into something all-consuming. Something so infectious that Harry couldn't help joining in.

No, he thought, wrapping her in a hug. She smelled of soup and mud, of broken dreams and baby powder. But she also smelled of flowers, just as she had when they met.

They didn't have it all together, he knew… but together, they had it all.