Questions and Answers

little_bird

Story Summary:
What happens when the past collides with the present and threatens to cast the Potters' and Weasleys' lives into disarray...

Chapter 12 - Grounded

Posted:
04/04/2010
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1,922


Al unglued his eyelids and pulled the quilt over his head in a futile attempt to try and go back to sleep. It was Monday morning. The day he was supposed to start helping James clean and organize the storage shed. He wondered how long it would take. The storage shed was dodgy at best, and outright disgusting at its worst. Al sighed and burrowed further into the pillow. Harry had called him Albus. Even worse, he'd used Albus Severus. Al hated it when Harry and Ginny used the middle name. Plus, when either of his parents used that deadly quiet voice, Al knew he was in some serious trouble. He smirked a little with a little satisfaction. At least he hadn't gotten the full name, like James. That really meant you were in trouble. Al and Lily almost knew James' full name better than their own.

'Al? It's time to get up. Breakfast is ready.' Ginny opened the door and came to sit on the edge of the bed, gently shaking him.

'I'm up,' he groaned, pulling the quilt away from his face. Al blinked at Ginny. 'Dad's really angry at James and me, isn't he?'

'Disappointed more than angry, sweetie.' Ginny pulled Al into a sitting position. 'He just wants you and James to understand there are consequences to your actions. Or lack of them.' She gave him a brief hug and patted his knees through the quilt. 'Come on, then. Get up and come downstairs. The sooner you and James tackle that shed, the sooner you'll be done.' Ginny slid off the bed, and headed out. 'Although,' she said considering, 'it's quite a mess. Might take longer than a day.'

'Lovely,' muttered Al, climbing out of bed, and reaching for a pair of old jeans that had been stained with grease when he helped Harry tinker with the motorbike's engine last summer. If he had to clean the shed, he wasn't going to wear any of his "good" jeans and ruin them. Besides, he knew Ginny and Harry would go spare if he did ruin them.

He jabbed a comb at his hair, grabbed his Magpies team cap, and clomped down the stairs, bending the bill of the cap in his hands, as he walked into the kitchen.

James was already slumped in his chair at the table, spooning cereal into his mouth. Harry was reading that morning's Prophet, scowling at the Quidditch scores. He looked up as Al dropped into his chair, and reached for the box of cereal in front of James. Harry folded the paper and laid it next to his bowl. He fixed his sons with an impassive gaze. 'All right then. After breakfast, the three of us are going out to the storage shed. I'll move the motorbike out for the day, and the two of you will organize the tools, clean up the rubbish, and sort any and all sundry things that are in there. I'll supervise, so if you're not sure something is rubbish, you can ask.' Harry leaned back in his chair, and took a sip of his juice. 'And no magic,' he added.

'No magic?' protested James weakly.

'No, and you're not to be using magic over the summer anyway,' Harry informed his son sternly.

James sighed and dropped his spoon into the empty bowl. 'Hurry up, will you?' he half-whined to Al. 'So we can get this over with?'

'We wouldn't be in this mess, if you hadn't been teasing Lily,' shot back Al.

'Don't start,' warned Ginny. 'Or I'll add painting the fence to the other chores this week.'

James' mouth snapped shut, and he settled for glaring at Al, following each spoonful of cereal as it traveled between the bowl and Al's mouth. Al studiously ignored James, but quickly finished his breakfast all the same. As he put the spoon into the bowl, Ginny Banished both his and James' bowls to the sink. Harry led the boys to the back garden and into the somewhat ramshackle shed.

Harry tenderly backed the motorbike out of the shed, and into the shade of an elm tree. He conjured a few brooms, buckets, and rags for the boys and a comfortable day lounger for himself. 'Go on, then,' he said, indicating the shed.

Al and James both huffed, but they knew if they dawdled, Harry would just add something else to the list. James picked up a broom, and peered into the depths of the shed. 'Erm, Dad? When was the last time someone cleaned in here?'

Harry frowned, thinking. He'd done a sort of cursory cleaning when he and Ginny moved into the house, shortly after James was born. Mostly, he just collected the spider webs and tidied the larger pieces of rubbish. 'Oh, I think I swept up the cobwebs last summer. Maybe picked up some of the rubbish, too. Not too sure,' he finished cheerfully.

'Ugh,' muttered James darkly. He'd rather die than admit it, but he was in this fix because he thoroughly enjoyed winding up Lily. She was a Weasley through and through, and the fireworks she produced when angered was a sight to behold.

It was almost as entertaining as Star Wars.

James poked his broom in a corner of the shed. A pile of Chocolate Frog boxes spilled into the dusty sunlight struggling to stream through the grimy windows. It was a considerable pile. 'Dad! There must be a hundred empty Chocolate Frog boxes here. Does Mum know you've been sneaking them out here?' While Harry believed in all things in moderation, Chocolate Frogs were an entirely different story.

'No, and if you keep it to yourself, I won't tell your mum about that lingerie catalogue I found under your mattress after the Easter holiday.'

James blinked. He could have sworn he had checked under the mattress before he returned to school. He nodded curtly to Harry, and went back to sweeping out the corner of the shed. 'Dad's such a pig,' he muttered to Al, who was sorting through a collection of old and somewhat rusty tools.

'No kidding,' Al muttered back, united briefly in their mutual disgust. 'I think he got these from Granddad.' Al rubbed a hand under his nose, leaving a smudge on his pale skin, but sneezed anyway. Al sighed and picked up a rag and tried to clean some of the rust off the tools.

Harry snickered to himself. It was partially true. The tools had come from Arthur's rather manky old collection. He did tend to be rather messy in the shed. Ginny understandably wouldn't step foot in it. Harry usually had a few boxes of Chocolate Frogs stashed behind an old tin of nuts and bolts, and he had a habit of munching on them as he worked on the motorbike, which was quite frequently. He found it soothing. He also had a bad habit of just tossing the empty Chocolate Frog boxes into a corner, where he couldn't, or chose not to, see them when he did his yearly tidying.

'Morning, Dad!' Lily launched herself into Harry's lap.

'Well, hello there, Flower Power.'

'Dad!' Lily's scandalized whisper followed a gasp. 'Don't call me that! I'm not a baby anymore, you know.'

Harry's lips twitched and he thought he sprained a muscle or two around his ribcage, but he didn't laugh. 'All right,' he placated Lily. He shifted Lily into a more comfortable position on his lap. 'So,' he began. 'Do you think Al should be able to have a friend visit for a weekend?'

'Not really,' she huffed. 'He didn't help me get my notebook back from James.'

'Did he apologize to you?' Harry gently tugged on one of Lily's plaits.

Lily sighed, and reluctantly admitted, 'Yes.'

'Think he meant it?'

Lily's bright brows knit and she muttered crossly, 'Maybe.'

Harry was almost certain he could hear his ribs creaking under the strain of trying not to laugh. Lily was every bit as stubborn as Ginny, if not more. Although Ginny would argue Lily was more stubborn than he was. 'Well, then, I'll let you help me supervise the boys, and when they're done, if you think Al deserves to have a friend over, then we'll send an owl. How does that sound?'

Lily seemed to weigh her options. 'Fine,' she stated.

James came running out of the shed, eyes tightly shut, screaming in horror, or fear. Or maybe both, given the size of the cobweb that graced his head. 'Get it off! Get it off!' he screamed, nearly whimpering. Harry reached out and swept the sticky web from James' hair and face.

'Okay, James, it's all off,' Harry soothed. Lily unsuccessfully smothered a giggle, earning her a glower from James. James visibly struggled to withhold a comment and turned on his heel, and stalked back into the shed.

James picked up the broom he had dropped. Al was standing on the workbench, carefully hanging the tools on a piece of pegboard. 'If you ever tell anyone about that, I'll burn your new broom,' he threatened.

Al polished a speck of rust from a spanner. 'Nobody'd believe me, anyway,' he muttered.

And so it went for the rest of the morning until Harry brought out a plate of sandwiches for the boys. There was a pile of Chocolate Frog boxes, dried leaves, and what seemed like several years' worth of old issues of Quidditch Quarterly, Witch Weekly, and the Daily Prophet. James and Al went inside to wash their grubby hands at the kitchen sink. 'When do you think Mum or Dad last threw a magazine away?' grumbled Al. 'I swear there're issues of Witch Weekly from before I was born.'

James snorted. 'I think one of those Quidditch Quarterly mags is from before Mum and Dad got married. Blech,' he said, wrinkling his nose as the soapsuds turned dark grey from the dirt on dust accumulated on his hands.

'Budge over, will you?' asked Al, trying to rinse the scummy lather from his own hands. James grudgingly moved over a few scant inches, so Al could finish washing his hands.

'We're never going to get this finished,' moaned James morosely. 'I can't reach the spider webs up in the top of the corners.'

'There's some Spellotape in the shed,' offered Al. 'Maybe you can put two brooms together and sweep them down.'

'Yeah, maybe.'

'Fine, don't try it.' Al dried his hands on a tea towel and trudged out into the back garden. He was used to James not paying him any mind.

After lunch, much to Al's surprise, James did tape two brooms together to try his idea. It even worked.

Al lugged a heavy carton out into the garden, dragging it across the grass, as he sidled backwards. It was too heavy for him to carry. 'Dad? I can't tell... Is this rubbish or do we keep it?' Al pulled the lid off the top to reveal a set of horridly ugly china. 'Where'd you get this, anyway?'

Harry leaned over to inspect the contents. 'Your mum's Great-Auntie Muriel gave us those at our wedding. We never took any of it out of the box, past the first plate to see the design. I forgot it was in there.' Harry shuddered in distaste. The color of the dishes reminded him of the color of Polyjuice Potion before you added the bit of the person to change into. 'I never could figure out where she found china the color of mud.'

'You know, Dad,' Al began carefully. 'We could put a bunch of those Chocolate Frog boxes and leaves and stuff around it, and we you Vanish the rubbish...' Al's face lit up in a mischievous grin, as he trailed off. 'Make it look like an accident.'

'I don't know why I didn't think of that before,' Harry said, winking at Al. 'James!' he called. 'Bring out some of that rubbish, eh?'

James came out staggering under the weight of several back issues of Witch Weekly. 'How's this?' he panted, dropping the stacks of magazines.

'Perfect,' Harry said, drawing out his wand. 'Bung 'em over by that carton.' James threw several magazines at the carton. 'All of them,' said Harry. 'We want it to look like an accident,' he added conspiratorially. James' eyes widened, but he complied, throwing magazine after magazine to the carton. When the box was more or less hidden by the magazines, Harry pointed his wand at the pile and whispered, 'Evanesco.' He slid his wand back into his pocket. 'Don't tell your mum, all right?'

*****

That night, Harry pushed the motorbike back into the shed. The cobwebs were gone, the rubbish swept out, all the tools hung on the pegboard. Even the various pieces of hardware, like the nuts and bolts, had been meticulously sorted into different jars. One of them had actually washed the windows, and he could see the outlines of the trees behind the shed. He heard a rustle behind him, and turned to see Lily standing in the doorway, wearing her nightdress, wet hair in a single loose plait. 'So, Lily? What do you think? They do all right today?'

Lily's bare feet didn't make a sound, as she strolled around the shed, examining the boys' handiwork. 'It's all right, I suppose,' she sniffed. 'They still have the broom shed tomorrow?'

'Yes, they do.'

'We'll see after tomorrow,' she said, with a decisive nod of her head.

Harry followed Lily out of the shed. He pitied the poor sod who would marry her one day. She was a force of nature, especially when she put her mind to do something.

When they walked into the kitchen, Harry gently swatted Lily on the rear. 'Go on up to bed. Mum and I will be up to tuck you in, in just a minute.' He cocked an ear toward the upper story of the house. 'It's awfully quiet up there,' he commented to Ginny.

Ginny didn't bother to stifle the laugh. 'They're both sound asleep. I thought they would both pass out into their dinners, had Lily stopped chattering long enough for it to get quiet.'

'Wanna go for a fly?' Harry asked Ginny, a lascivious grin on his face.

'Why, Mr. Potter!' exclaimed Ginny. 'Let's get Lily settled, first.' As they climbed up the stairs, she wondered aloud, 'How long has it been since you and I went for a fly together?'

'Far too long,' Harry murmured against her neck. 'One broom?' he asked hopefully.

'You'll just have to wait and find out when we get back outside.' Ginny grinned at Harry's mock-crestfallen expression. 'It'll give you something to look forward to.'

*****

The next morning, the boys were both outside, brooms in hand once more, sweeping out the broom shed, casting longing looks at their Comet 1250s hanging on hooks, the nameplates glinting in the morning sunlight. They worked silently, still tired from the day before. If they thought the storage shed had some enormous cobwebs, the inside of the broom shed seemed to be one giant cobweb. Al heard James' swift intake of breath as they got a good look at the amount of cobwebs. They didn't really look inside, normally, beyond the half second it took to grab their broom.

Lily trailed out after them, a box of crayons, a pad of drawing paper, and a book in her hands. She settled on the grass under the elm tree, and began to draw, humming under her breath, as she watched the boys pull the cobwebs off the brooms they used to sweep out the broom shed.

When Harry came out into the back garden an hour later, Lily was leaning against the elm tree, watching the boys whitewash the walls. She held an open book on her lap, but wasn't reading it, gazing at the boys instead. 'How are they doing?' he asked her, as he folded his lanky frame in the grass next to her.

Lily tilted her head to the side, critically examining the coat of whitewash on the walls. 'I think it needs another coat,' she pronounced.

'Hey, boys? One more coat!' called Harry.

James' liberally spotted face peered around the corner. 'One more coat?' he sighed. At Harry's nod, he heaved a put-upon sigh and was met with Al's paintbrush in his face.

'It was an accident!' Al's distressed voice floated from the behind the broom shed.

'I know,' James said testily, wiping his face on his t-shirt. He looked like a raccoon in reverse, eyes dark wide pools in the layer of whitewash. He dropped his paintbrush into the grass. 'Let's just get this over with, all right?' Al nodded and went back to his work.

Harry had heard the exchange, making a mental note to mention James' response to the face full of whitewash. Last summer, he would have pounded Al into the grass, with nary a second thought.

Mid-afternoon came, and James and Al stood at the spigot on the side of the house, wearily rinsing out the brushes. 'I think I'm going to have a nap before dinner,' commented James. Al only grunted in response. 'You need one, too, Mr. Cranky-Pants.'

Al rounded on James. 'If you'd left Lily alone, we could be on our brooms right now, but no! You just had to get her all worked up! And why? Because you think it's fun to get either of us wound up!' Al hissed. 'It's not fun! And we had to spend the first two days of our summer hols up to our elbows in rubbish, spider webs, and whitewash.' Al flung the water from the brush in a wide arc over the grass. 'Besides,' he continued. 'It's not nice to tease her about Scorpius. It wouldn't be nice to tease her even if S.M. had turned out to be Sammy Martin.'

James stared at Al in shock. Al had never spoken to him that way. 'But -'

'Don't talk to me right now, James, okay? Just go do whatever it is you want to do before dinner and bloody leave me alone.' Al stalked to the storage shed to put the paintbrush away.

James watched Al stomp toward the pond and for once in his life, wisely left Al be. He came around the corner of the house to find Harry and Lily examining the paint job on the broom shed. Lily and Harry exchanged nods, and Harry sent James into the house to shower and try and scrub the layer of whitewash off.

Harry put the brooms back inside the broom shed and closed the door. He looked down at Lily, hands on his hips. 'So, Lils? What do you think? Should we send an owl to Scorpius' mum tonight?'

Lily wrinkled her nose in thought. 'I suppose,' she sighed dramatically.

Harry didn't miss the slight blush that washed over her face.

*****

'Al?' James stood uncertainly in the doorway of Al's room later that night.

Al just looked up from his book, and raised an eyebrow. He was still smarting from the past two days.

James shifted uneasily. He wasn't used to seeing the look of calm anger on Al's face. 'I owe you an apology,' he muttered, tracing the grain of the wood of Al's door.

'You owe Lily an apology,' said Al flatly.

'But I got you into trouble, too,' protested James.

Al merely shrugged. 'I had a choice in the matter. I could have tried to stop you or take the notebook away, and I didn't. End of discussion,' he said, going back to his book.

James' shoulders slumped a little.

This had to be one of the few times he actually felt guilty for harassing his sister, and pulling his brother into it.

He went into his room, and climbed into bed, staring at the ceiling.

*****

A tawny owl winged its way across the dark countryside, a letter tied to its leg. It came to a stop early the next morning at a mansion in Wiltshire.