[ There's a knock, and he freezes for just a heartbeat, before rushing to throw the door open. And at that point, he's just flabbergasted. He hadn't known what to expect-- the trademark Weasley ginger hair, perhaps. Freckles, probably. Lanky height like himself and his brothers.
The last one is the only thing that carries over. Otherwise, he's the spitting image of his mother. Of course. How could anything as plain as Weasley blood overwrite something so beautiful? ]
Merlin, look at you.
[ Then all at once, the reality of their surroundings come crashing down around him. Who else has been appreciating his son's beauty?
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The last one is the only thing that carries over. Otherwise, he's the spitting image of his mother. Of course. How could anything as plain as Weasley blood overwrite something so beautiful? ]
Merlin, look at you.
[ Then all at once, the reality of their surroundings come crashing down around him. Who else has been appreciating his son's beauty?
He steps back from the door. ] Come in, come in.