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Marketa continued to smile fondly at Sirius until Yvonne started squealing and tugging at her hair. She gasped with surprise and looked down at her daughter. "Okay, okay, I'm feeding you!" she said impatiently, picking up the bottle from the table and offering it to Yvonne, who only screeched and slapped it away. "Jaký činit tebe do prdele potřeba?" she muttered with much frustration, feeling guilty when her mother looked up.

"Marketa!" her mother and father simultaneously gasped.

"Sorry," Marketa hastily covered for her Czech cussing, blushing furiously even though Sirius couldn't understand what she'd said anyway.

I just swore at my baby, how could I swear at my baby? What in the world is wrong with me? Marketa thought as she smiled apologetically at Sirius and tried the bottle again. Yvonne was still hesitant and fussy but took to the formula anyway. Mar allowed herself a small sigh of relief.

"On čerpat tato podbízet překrásný?" Mar's mother muttered to her. Marketa turned bright red and implored that her mother just accept the compliment with a single look.

"You tink dis is beautiful," laughed her father. "You should have seen old home! Up in mountains, wit flowers and forest as far as eyes can see! I used to call my leetle Mařit--" he smiled at his daughter "--Les nymfa--"

"Wood nymph," Mar informed Sirius in undertone.

"--Because she could climb tree faster den anyone, when flowers grew taller than she!" he finished with a fierce look of fatherly pride on his face. Marketa looked down at Yvonne to hide the happy flush on her face.

"Da, you are embarrassing me!" she said, even while sounding incandescantly happy. Hearing her parents brag about her was one of her guilty pleasures.

"Oh, why did you have to ask?" Mar groaned, burying her face in one hand as the other was holding Yvonne. A blush invaded her entire face as her mother eagerly leaped from her seat and grabbed battered old photo album from a shelf. She dragged her chair over beside Sirius's and opened it on the table.

"Dis is our home in de highlands," she said fondly. Marketa didn't need to look, she had memorized all of the pictures. "And dere is Mařit, only four; you can hardly see her de flowers are so high!" She smiled and turned the page to show a newer photograph, her brow suddenly furrowing. "Dis one is new..."

Marketa caught a glimpse of curly red hair and felt blood drain from her face. "Dat's mine!" she cried, leaping forward and snatching up the picture of herself and Glen.

"Tought you didn't like him, Mařit," her father grunted from his place. Marketa flushed.

"I don't anymore," she muttered, not meeting anyone's eyes. "It's for Yvonne, when she's older, if she wants to know what he looked like." She pushed her hair behind her ear to keep it out of the baby's reach.

Mar shot Sirius a weak smile as she got up from the table to put the picture in a more secure spot; most likely in her drawer in the bedroom. She took a single moment of indulgence to stare at the picture with a small nostalgic smile before putting it in the drawer. It closed with a bit of a loud snap, setting Yvonne off into another torrent of wailing. "Fock," she groaned quietly, bouncing Yvonne on her hip with frustration.

Mar's mother leaned over to look at the album as well. "Ah yes, many tink so. Poor girl got her father's nose, dough." She looked up at her husband and smiled fondly at him. He smirked and winked at her, and she actually blushed. She patted Sirius's shoulder, with some degree of fondness. "You may call me Claire. My husband is Miklos." The more she spoke the clearer her English became, as she had been schooled in Britain.

Suddenly serious, Claire moved her chair across the table and stared, hard, at Sirius. "Sirius, my daughter likes you. Very much. You know this, yes?"

Claire raised her eyebrow at Sirius, discreetly checking to see if the bedroom door was closed, which it was. She could hear her granddaughter crying, meaning they would have at least three minutes.

"Sirius, I tought you were intelligent!" she said with a small laugh. "I see the way you and Mařit smile at one anudder all the time. I don't know if it's because she worries for Yvonne's future witout a dad, or because of someting doctors said to watch for...erm...what was it Mik? Postpardum-someting?" Her husband shrugged noncomittally, and she shook her head.

"Either way, Sirius, my daughter does not make friends easily, and she seemd very taken wit you. Just...please don't..." Her lips tightened visibly and she bit one of her fingernails.