Questions and Answers

'Mum?' Ginny looked up from her article. Lily stood in the doorway, twirling the end of her ponytail around a finger. 'Can I ask you something?'

Ginny put her quill down, and rested her chin on an upturned hand. 'Sure.'

'Why does Scorpius have nightmares?' Lily came all the way in the office and plopped into one of the armchairs.

'People dream about different things,' Ginny said, toying with her quill. When Lily gave her a dubious sort of look, Ginny bit her lower lip, unsure if she should expose someone else's past to her children.

'He was saying something about a snake,' Lily supplied helpfully.

Ginny tapped the point of the quill on the blotter, then connected the resulting dots, trying to figure out how to explain the Dark Mark to her nine-year old daughter. 'Well... You know those people we fought in the war? The Death Eaters? The ones who didn't like anyone but pure-bloods?' Lily nodded. 'They had a symbol,' Ginny began, and saw a brief look of incomprehension flash across Lily's face. 'Like how the boys all have a lion on their uniforms to show they're in Gryffindor,' Ginny explained. Lily's face cleared and she looked at Ginny expectantly. 'So, those people, they had a sort of tattoo on the inside of their forearm. It was a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth.' Ginny realized her hands were shaking. She clasped them together in her lap before continuing. 'It was called the Dark Mark.'

'It sounds scary,' Lily responded.

'It was.' Ginny got up and went to sit on the arm of the chair Lily occupied. 'Scorpius' father fought on the other side in the war. He had - has - one of those Marks.'

'Is that why Scorpius sort of gutted when Dad rolled up his sleeves Saturday night?'

Ginny nodded. 'He was really young when he saw it. Younger than you. He'd never seen it before, so...'

'So it scared him,' Lily finished.

'Yes.'

Lily was quiet for a moment. 'Mum?'

'Yes?'

'Is Scorpius' father still a Death Eater?'

'I don't think so, Lils. His family suffered a great deal under Riddle.'

'Does he still believe half-bloods and Muggle-borns are bad?'

'I don't know, Lily.'

'Does Scorpius?' Lily was starting to look more than a little worried.

'No,' Ginny stated emphatically.

'How do you know?'

'He's a Gryffindor,' Ginny replied. 'The Sorting Hat doesn't usually make mistakes.'

'Has it before?' Lily asked, engrossed in the conversation.

Ginny hesitated. 'Yes and no.'

'I don't understand,' Lily said her nose scrunched in confusion.

'When this person was a first-year, where he was Sorted was probably the right place for him, but later, when he had grown up, he changed. And if it hadn't been for him, your dad would have gotten in a lot more trouble than he already did at school.'

The back door slammed, and the house filled with the sounds of excited boys, struggling with wet shoelaces, stubborn coat buttons, and proclaiming with various degrees of bravado how they could eat a hippogriff. Except for the beak and feet, of course. 'I think it's time for lunch,' Ginny said lightly, eager to end the conversation.

Lily shot into the kitchen and dived for her place at the table. Ginny tended to cook with magic more than Harry, especially when faced with a room full of hungry children, but Lily knew from long experience that if you didn't eat fast, you didn't eat. It was Rule Number One among the cousins. Besides, Rose and Hugo seemed to inherit their father's appetite, and food could be a scarce commodity around them. Scorpius looked slightly startled at Lily's behavior, even though he was used to seeing the Weasleys and Potters fall on a meal as if it were their last at school. He hadn't been expcting to see it outside of Hogwarts. Ginny put a plate of sandwiches and a jug of pumpkin juice on the table. 'It's not quite a hippogriff, boys, but there should be plenty for even you lot,' Ginny said, taking a sandwich for herself.

''S Dah a'ri?' asked James, cheeks distended with a large bite of his sandwich.

'Swallow first, then talk, James,' Ginny reprimanded mildly. They had tried to instill table manners into their children. Ginny thought it was only fair after forcing people to watch Ron eat at the Gryffindor table.

James made an effort to swallow the bite whole. 'Is Dad all right?' he repeated.

'He's fine. Why?' Ginny put a plate of ginger biscuits on the table

'You and Dad never have a lie-in,' piped up Lily.

'Yeah, you or Dad usually have to drag us out of bed for breakfast,' remarked Al.

'He's fine. We were just up late last night,' Ginny said firmly. 'Eat your lunch,' she told them, signaling the discussion was over. She glanced up at the ceiling. The shower in their bathroom was running.

*****

Harry woke up, feeling like he'd drunk an entire bottle of Firewhisky. He blindly patted the night table for his glasses, and shoved them on his nose. It was after noon. Groaning, he sat up, and pushed the bedding aside. He usually didn't sleep this late. Having three children under the age of fifteen usually meant sleeping past seven was a luxury. Harry heaved to his feet and stumbled to the bathroom for a shower, hoping it would clear his head. He turned the water to as hot as he could stand it, and ducked under the spray.

He sighed as the hot water hit his shoulders. His stomach rumbled loudly, reminding Harry it had been nearly a full day since he had last eaten. If he weren't so hungry, he would have gone for a nice soak to ease his tense muscles, but the lure of food was too strong. Cutting his shower short, Harry quickly dried himself, and dressed before going down to the kitchen.

Ginny was sitting at the table, jabbing her wand at the remains of the children's lunch. 'Hi,' he said, kissing Ginny. 'What's for lunch? I'm starved.'

Ginny snorted. 'You think three boys left enough lunch to feed you?'

'Right.' Harry twirled his wand through his fingers, pacing restlessly, poking through cupboards, still almost too keyed up to focus on the seemingly inordinate task of feeding himself.

'Harry, sit down, I'll get you something.'

Gratefully, Harry sat at the table and let Ginny handle his lunch. 'How are the kids?'

Ginny looked out the window. 'Fine. Out playing again.' She set a plate of sandwiches and fruit in front of Harry. 'Lily asked about the Mark.' Harry nearly dropped his sandwich. 'She asked about Scorpius and his nightmares, and it led to telling her what it was,' she clarified. Ginny snagged a handful of grapes from Harry's plate. 'She asked if he had the same ideas as his father.'

'That's a bit deep for a nine-year old, isn't it?'

'It's a logical assumption to make.' Ginny curled into her chair. 'Al practically worships the ground you walk on. And,' she added, 'Fred and Jacob are just like George. Not quite the troublemakers Fred and George were, but who is?' Harry grinned. It was true. The portable swamp they made their seventh year was still in the corridor. Flitwick wouldn't let anyone get rid of it totally. 'At any rate, we dumped a lot of information on their heads yesterday.'

'I guess so.' An owl tapped on the window, with a dark purple envelope in its beak. Cursing under his breath, Harry went to open the window and retrieve the letter. 'It's from the office,' he told Ginny, opening the envelope. Scanning it quickly, he looked at the owl, sitting on their perch in the corner. 'I'll be right back with an answer, all right?' Harry went into the office, and scribbled a reply, then took his answer back to the owl.

'That group in Ireland flaring up?' The Aurors usually didn't have to send Harry messages at home, unless it was an emergency.

'No. Just a note letting me know Malfoy and his wife did go to Nice.'

'You keep tabs on Malfoy?' Ginny's eyebrows went up in shock.

'We keep tabs on all former Death Eaters who are alive and not in Azkaban,' Harry said flatly. 'But when Malfoy goes to visit his parents, the French Ministry is required to track his movements, and keep us appraised of them, not just keep it to themselves.'

'I didn't know that,' Ginny murmured, frowning.

'It's not exactly public knowledge,' he informed her.

'No, I would guess not.' Ginny quietly cleared the table, and began to put the pieces together for dinner. 'Why do you do it?'

Harry got up and began to peel potatoes next to her, eager to have something to do with his hands. 'We started doing it after the war. We didn't want to be caught by surprise if somebody decided they wanted to reactivate the Death Eaters. There are not a lot of them, thankfully. And most of them were ruined financially, so they can't really go anywhere that requires a Portkey. We've also got Aurors located regionally who quietly keep their eye on things.' He looked at her and gave her a crooked grin. 'Sort of like Muggle police stations. It was my idea,' he said bashfully.

'I'd ask why you didn't tell me before, but I can understand something like that being kept secret.' Ginny wiped the counter with a sponge, and threw it in the sink.

The laughter of the three boys floated in from the back. A village of snowmen was beginning to litter the back garden, while Lily determinedly tried to sprinkle in a few snowwomen. Harry's gaze rested on his daughter, struggling to keep up with the boys. 'I think I'm going to go give Lils a hand,' he decided. 'She's a bit outnumbered.'

*****

Ginny left the kitchen and wandered into the sitting room. A set of knitting needles caught her eye. Feeling as restless as Harry had been earlier, she knew she wouldn't be able to concentrate on her story that afternoon. At least her deadline wasn't until the day after tomorrow. Plenty of time. She'd written more in less. She turned her head toward the back, hearing Scorpius' voice float over James and Al's. Coming to a decision of her own, Ginny fetched her workbasket from a corner of the sitting room.

She pulled out three sets of mittens, scarves, and hats. Like Molly's jumpers, these were her traditional Christmas gift to her children. They got other things, but they could always count on a new pair of mittens with a matching scarf and hat. This year, James' was bright candy-apple red. Like that ridiculous convertible Harry drove when they had gone to America on a holiday last summer. Al's were maroon, which made Ginny laugh to herself. Ron's least favorite color, but his nephew adored it. Lily's were a rosy pink. She was in a girlie kind of stage. Everything was all about butterflies, fairies, and enough pink to make a boy gag. Ginny herself had gone though the same stage.

Ginny rummaged through the basket, pulling out skeins of yarn, trying to find one that would fit Scorpius' fair skin and near-white blonde hair. -Blue,' she mused. Ginny pulled out a skein of blue, considering it. Not quite. She dug into the mass of yarn and pulled out a skein the clean, clear blue of the ocean. 'That's it,' she murmured, and set an enchanted set of needles to make the mittens, while she did the scarf.

'What'cha doing, Mum?' James strolled into the sitting room, a double handful of biscuits in his hands.

'Making a Christmas gift for Scorpius.'

'But you barely know him,' James pointed out.

Ginny set her needles down and looked at James. 'It's the same thing your grandmum would do. It's the same thing she did do.'

'Really? For who?' James crammed three biscuits in his mouth.

'For your dad. His first year.'

'Why? Did Dad not get to go home for the holiday?'

Ginny sighed. Explaining the Dursleys wasn't easy to adults, much less thirteen-year olds. And she'd only really met them the one time before she married Harry. 'The people your dad lived with - his aunt and uncle - didn't like him very much. Actually,' Ginny admitted, 'they didn't like wizards or witches very much.'

'Why?' James was flabbergasted. A Muggle-born in his class told him his parents had been shocked, but they'd gotten over it soon enough.

Ginny smiled sadly. 'They don't like people who are different. Almost like the opposite of the pure-blood fanatics. Your dad wasn't welcome during the Christmas and Easter holidays and was only welcome during the summer because they had to take him.' She picked up her knitting. 'That first year, when Mum found out he'd have to stay at school and might not get anything for Christmas from Ron, she immediately made a jumper for him and added it to the others. She'd only seen your dad once at the train platform that September. But she couldn't stand the idea of anyone not having anything at all to open on Christmas morning.'

James regarded his mother, a sober expression in his limpid blue eyes. 'So you think Scorpius won't get anything from his parents?'

'I'm not sure. But at least he'll have something.' James watched Ginny knit for a few more minutes.

'Why has everyone looked so shocked when they see Scorpius? Uncle George looked like he was going to be sick. So did Dad and Uncle Ron...'

'That's easy. Scorpius looks just like his father. And your dad and his father did not get on well at school. Actually,' Ginny corrected herself, 'Draco Malfoy was a Slytherin and didn't get on with any of us in Gryffindor. Especially your dad, your uncles, me, most of your aunts.' Ginny looked at James. 'With Malfoy, it went beyond normal House rivalries. Almost like a vendetta.' She shrugged. 'Sometimes, it's hard to let go of the past, and there are people your dad doesn't trust. When you go through as much as your dad at the hands of Draco and Lucius Malfoy, you tend to hold something of a grudge.'

James nibbled the last biscuit, thinking. 'Did Dad think Scorpius was going to cause trouble because he's related to Draco Malfoy? I mean, he's in Gryffindor!'

Ginny leaned over to James, and kissed his cheek. 'I know that. But your dad can get more stubborn than just about all my brothers put together sometimes. It's all right, James,' Ginny added, seeing the look of worry settle into his eyes. 'Your dad's fine with Scorpius. Just had to get to know him a little, eh?' James nodded. 'Now, go back out, before they think I made you do chores or something, and you will have some tomorrow, young man. And take the rest of the biscuits with you, if there's any left. The others might want one or two.'

'Yes, Mum.' James turned toward the kitchen. 'Mum?'

'Yes?'

'Thanks.'

'Not at all.'

*****

The following morning, after Ginny had left to go to the Prophet office, a package arrived addressed to Ginny and Harry. Harry set it on his desk, and tried to wait for Ginny to come home, but it sat on his desk, begging him to open it, as he supervised Al, James, and Scorpius sorting through their uniforms for the laundry, made Lily do her homework for school, cajoled James into cleaning the bathroom the children shared without magic and did everything he could think of, besides going into the office, and opening that package - even the laundry, which he hated doing and secretly believed Ron mucked up on purpose years ago to get out of doing the job.

He carried a basket of the boys' uniform shirts past the office. The package sat on his desk, looking as if a light shone on it deliberately. Muttering things about packages addressed to two people and not needing to wait for others to get home, he untied the string on the package and unwrapped the paper. A letter sat on top of a tastefully wrapped gift, bearing his and Ginny's names. Harry frowned and checked the tag. It was for Scorpius from his parents. Or at least his mother and she had put Malfoy's name on it, too. Harry sat down and opened the letter.

Mr. and Mrs. Potter,

Thank you for allowing Scorpius to stay with you over the holiday. I hope it won't be too much of an imposition on your family. I'm grateful he won't have to spend Christmas alone at school.

Please make sure he gets this Christmas morning.

Sincerely,

Daphne Malfoy

ps - Could you please tell Scorpius that we're going to be with his grandparents until further notice? Mr. Malfoy is quite ill.

Harry set the letter aside to show Ginny later, and picked up the package from the desk. He buried it under the boys' clean shirts and took it upstairs to his bedroom to hide in the wardrobe with the other gifts. He closed the wardrobe door and looked at the photograph of Sirius and him that had been taken that Christmas they stayed at Grimmauld Place.

Sirius would have been delighted that a Black descendant with two Slytherin parents had been Sorted into Gryffindor. And he would have relished the chance to corrupt the poor unsuspecting child even further. Harry snorted softly. Scorpius didn't seem to need much pushing to embrace so-called corruption. The scene they had created in the back garden yesterday was evidence enough. Scorpius had shown the boys an American Muggle comic strip collection called Calvin and Hobbes. The young boy in the strips had a predilection for creating insanely twisted snowman scenes. The boys, needless to say had been inspired. Scorpius seemed to take an unholy amount of quiet glee in doing anything his father would have disliked while he was a guest in the house. Even something as small as using a Muggle comic for inspiration.

Harry folded the last shirt and grinned to himself.

There was hope for Scorpius after all.