He'd had Victoire and Louis to prepare him, but it was still nerve wracking to sit in his room, pacing, waiting for yet another child he's never met.

But when she opened the door and threw herself at him, he didn't hesitate to catch her in an embrace. Any doubt he'd had was gone. She couldn't possibly be anyone but his daughter. She looked just like her mother, just like her sister and brother.

"It's me!" he laughed, pulling back to get a good look at her. "Blimey, not a one of you got the Weasley hair, did you?" That was probably for the best, really. Being a Weasley carried enough baggage without being identified as one on sight.

"Come, sit. Sit. Tell me everything about you. I've a lot of catching up to do." He gestures to the made bed, and pulls out a chair for himself.