Questions and Answers

Ginny Apparated into the back garden of the house. The game had ended in less than twenty minutes. So after the requisite post-game press conference, Ginny quickly wrote an article praising the Harpies' new Seeker, left it on her editor's desk, and was home well before eight.

Every window in the house blazed with light. 'We're not paying to light up all of Godric's Hollow,' she muttered, as she walked toward the house, pointing her wand at the door.

Sighing, Ginny opened the back door, and dropped her bag in a chair at the table. She followed the sounds of an outer space battle to the sitting room.

Four children lay sprawled on the sitting room floor, cocooned in a nest of blankets and pillows, surrounded by a litter of sweets wrappers and root beer bottles. Scorpius' blonde head was framed by Lily's dark red one, and Al's tousled black one. Ginny perched on the arm of the sofa in time to hear the woman on the screen bark, 'I'd rather kiss a Wookie!' It always sent Lily into gales of giggles.

'You four need anything?' she asked.

'Hi, Mum.' James pulled his attention from the television long enough to glance over his shoulder at his mother. 'Game ended early,' he commented.

'Twenty minutes,' she informed him.

Al twisted around, looking at Ginny. 'That's it?' he asked incredulously.

'Yep.' Ginny watched the film a bit longer. 'Are you planning on watching all three of these before you go to bed tonight?'

'Uh-huh,' replied James absently, his lips moving silently with the dialog he had memorized before the age of ten.

'Don't stay up too late,' Ginny warned.

'Dad already told us to be in bed by twelve. Told us he'd check.' Al's voice drifted back from his new position, lying on this stomach.

'You four are going outdoors tomorrow. Get some sunshine, fresh air. Something that won't rot your brains,' Ginny stated, rising from her perch, and going in search of Harry.

She didn't have to look far. He was in the office, going through some paperwork. Harry looked up when she sat down in an armchair. 'Thanks for waking me up before Narcissa dropped Scorpius off,' he said genially. 'Oh, wait... You let me sleep, and then let me answer the door with the kind of makeup job I saw on the better drag queens in Soho, and that includes the blokes that lived downstairs.' Harry leaned back in his chair, balancing it on the back legs. 'You'll have to pay for that, young lady,' he threatened.

'You know better than to fall asleep on the sofa when the boys are home at the same time,' chided Ginny. 'How many times have they done something to you while you've had a kip on the sofa?' she scoffed. 'You're lucky they've moved to makeup, which is much easier to remove than those charmed Muggle markers Fred and Jacob sent last summer,' she said dryly, a smile playing on the corners of her mouth. 'I believe you had to go to work with a butterfly on your forehead for several days.'

'I was hoping you'd have forgotten that,' Harry muttered.

'They've also gotten rather good at switching out your copy of Quidditch Quarterly or Which Broomstick for one of my fluff Muggle novels or CosmoWitch, or even that Muggle catalog. You know the one? The one with all the women in their knickers?'

'Victoria's Secret,' smirked Harry.

'Not much of a secret there,' Ginny shot back. 'I've seen more material on sticking plasters and dental floss. I found one under James' bed after the Christmas holiday.'

Harry burst out laughing. 'That would explain why at Easter he stuffed it under the mattress.'

'Oh, Merlin, he's getting to that age, isn't he?' Ginny groaned theatrically.

'We did all right with Teddy,' offered Harry.

'Teddy didn't live here.'

'Oh, right.' Harry deflated a bit.

'When did Teddy leave, by the way?' Ginny twisted to sit sideways with her legs dangling over the arm of the chair.

'After dinner. We got pizza.'

'Why the root beer?'

'Teddy,' Harry said simply, as if it explained everything. And it usually did. 'He brought it for Scorpius to try.' Harry set his chair back on its legs. 'I know what you're doing, Gin.'

'I'm not doing anything, besides engaging my husband in conversation about our children.'

'You're trying to distract me from my revenge,' growled Harry.

'We're not doing anything with four children in the house.'

'Oh yes, we are. Why do you think we've got all those Silencing charms on the bedroom?' Harry leered at his wife. 'You're not exactly quiet, Ginevra,' he drawled.

'Neither are you,' she retorted. 'Who was it that kept repeating how much he loved me the other night? Was that you?'

'I have no idea what you're talking about,' Harry deadpanned.

'And you are in so much trouble for calling me Ginevra.'

Harry rose from his chair, and slowly rounded the desk to Ginny. He leaned down over her, bracing his hands on the arms of the chair, and let his lips brush against her ear before whispering what he would do to her in precise detail. 'Oh my,' Ginny breathed.

'"Oh my" is the least of what you'll be saying later.' Straightening, Harry made a show of checking the time on his watch. 'They've got about four hours or so left before their film fest is over.'

'What are you suggesting? That I go up first, then you wait five minutes or so, then follow me?' Ginny's mouth quirked in a grin. 'Your crack Head Auror at work, ladies and gentlemen!'

'Yeah, that's about it.'

'See you in five minutes.' Ginny stretched and oh-so-casually strolled out of the office and went upstairs.

Harry's grin faded. He turned back to the stack of folders on his desk. The topmost one bore the name of Draco Malfoy. The others were some of Voldemort's most ardent supporters who, while not necessarily Death Eaters, fought on his side. Harry nudged Draco's aside with his forefinger, and grimaced when he saw the name of Delores Umbridge, fanning the other folders across the desk. The others were rather minor players: Nott, Higgs, Flint, Avery, Urquhart. The grandfathers and fathers of the boys at Hogwarts who amused themselves by bullying Scorpius.

Harry knew some of them were responsible for the Muggle-baiting. They weren't connected with that group in Ireland. Harry's quiet reconnaissance over the past several years had established that. The Irish group was all talk. Ian Greengrass headed the group, and he wasn't stupid. Complaining and getting drunk was about all they did. Greengrass was at least intelligent enough to not encourage his 'friends' to engage in using Unforgiveables or Muggle-baiting.

Harry didn't think it was Draco, in spite of the fact Draco was related to Ian through marriage, but he wasn't sure, given Draco's attitudes toward his own son these days. However, Draco's freedom, such as it was, hinged on his continued good behavior. If he sneezed at the wrong time, Draco risked a lengthy Azkaban sentence.

Deep down, Harry hated that. While he found Draco's personal beliefs repugnant, he knew if Draco hadn't kept his mouth shut that night during the war, he might very well be dead. Or tortured into insanity. Either way, Harry knew he owed the Malfoys a debt of honor.

And the mere knowledge of that made him want to vomit.

Every six months, the people listed on these folders had to report to Harry's office at the Ministry, where he would use his now-considerable skill in Legilimency to discern the truth of their answers to his questions. This would be Umbridge's first visit. She had been released from Azkaban in mid-January.

But Draco...

Draco as a skilled Occlumens, had to drink Veritaserum during his visit to the Ministry. The first couple of years, he had abjectly refused to do so, and after getting Stunned by Aurors who had been Phoenix members, who then forced the potion down his throat, he now grudgingly drank it.

Harry looked forward to these semi-annual visits as much as he looked forward to receiving a pinch from an Acromantula. He would, in fact, much prefer to visit Aragog's descendents instead of running through the litany of questions regarding the lives of the wizards and one witch on his probation list.

Harry pulled the wand from his pocket and pointed it at the stack of folders. They zoomed into a cupboard. The cupboard doors closed and locked with a faint click. It wouldn't open for anyone besides Harry. Not even Ginny.

He looked up at the ceiling. Ginny would be waiting.

He slipped out of the office and went up the stairs.

*****

Ginny reached for her wand on the night table. She languidly pointed it at Harry's bound wrists. 'That's for calling me "Ginevra".'

Harry pulled his wrists from the silk scarves looped through the headboard. 'I'll get you for that,' he muttered.

'Add it to the list,' Ginny replied cheekily.

Harry rolled over so Ginny lay beneath him. 'At this rate, we're going to spend a lot of time in this bed.'

'Do you hear me complaining?'

'Not yet, anyway.'

She picked up her watch from the night table and checked the time. 'One of us should go downstairs and check on the heathens.'

Harry heaved a sigh, and slid off the bed. 'I'll go,' he said. 'Go run a nice bath. I'll be back up in a bit.' He grabbed his jeans from the floor. 'I think we've still got the last film to go.' Harry buttoned the jeans, and yanked his t-shirt on. 'I'll come wash your back.'

He padded downstairs into the sitting room. All four children were still wide-awake, eyes fixed on the film playing on the television. 'Ewwwww,' Lily gagged. The man and woman on the screen began to kiss passionately, only to be interrupted by the cackles of the giant worm creature.

'Are you "ewww-ing" at that Jabba bloke or the kissing?' asked Scorpius curiously. Lily didn't strike him as the squeamish type.

'A little of both,' she admitted. 'He's got all those bogies around his mouth, and the kissing's just...' Lily trailed off and shuddered. 'Not as bad as when Mum and Dad do it, though,' she mused. 'That's just beyond gross.' Lily shook her head. 'Parents shouldn't do that,' she insisted.

'Will you pipe down?' James hissed irritably.

Lily stuck her tongue out at the back of James' head.

'How's it going?' asked Harry.

'Great, Dad.' James didn't even bother to look at Harry.

'Your mum and I are up in our room if you need anything.'

'Yeah, thanks, Dad,' replied Al absently.

Harry rolled his eyes, and went back upstairs, feeling only slightly obsolete.

*****

Scorpius made a face as he and Harry Apparated in front of the mansion in Wiltshire. 'Blech. I hate Apparition,' he groaned. 'Makes me want to throw up.'

'I felt that way the first time someone Side-Alonged me,' Harry told him. He looked up at the mansion. It was the first time in two decades Harry had even so much as looked at the mansion. He inhaled deeply and his hands balled into fists. 'Wow,' he breathed. 'It hasn't changed.'

'You've been here before?'

'You could say that,' Harry said softly. In the back of his mind, he could hear Hermione's screams of pain and Ron's bellows of outrage and fear. He blinked and the image of Dobby with a small silver knife protruding from his chest floated before his eyes.

Harry broke into a cold sweat, the mansion swimming in his vision. He felt dizzy. Damn, he thought muzzily. I should have let Ginny bring Scorpius home.

'Mr. Potter?' Scorpius' worried voice broke through the dizziness. 'Are you okay?'

'Yeah. Fine,' grunted Harry, swaying alarmingly. He should have known seeing the mansion would do this to him.

'Mr. Potter?' This time it was Narcissa Malfoy. She had come out to the gate to collect Scorpius. 'Harry?'

It was the use of his first name that made Harry try to get his breath under control. 'I'm fine,' he said firmly.

Narcissa drew her wand from a skirt pocket and conjured a glass. She silently pointed the tip at it and water streamed into the glass. 'Scorpius, darling, go inside,' she ordered. Scorpius looked up at his grandmother. Narcissa shook her head, and gestured for him to go inside. Shrugging, Scorpius slipped through the gate and headed for the front door. Narcissa pressed the glass of water into Harry's shaking hand. 'Drink it,' she said.

Harry squinted at the water, waving the glass under his nose. He pulled out his wand, ready to prod the surface when Narcissa spoke.

'It's just water, Mr. Potter,' Narcissa said dryly. 'But under the circumstances, I can't say I blame you.'

Deciding to trust her, Harry gulped some of the water. He waited for a few minutes, and when nothing happened, he drained the glass. 'Thanks,' he muttered, using his want to Vanish the glass.

Narcissa shrugged. 'Can't have you faint on my son's doorstep, now can I?' She looked closely at Harry. The hair along his temples was damp with sweat and he looked pale. The old, faded scar on his forehead stood out in blazing contrast. 'Do you feel as if you can make it home?'

Harry snorted. 'I'm nearly thirty-eight years old, Mrs. Malfoy; I think I can manage to Apparate home.' He started to leave, then stopped. 'Thank you,' he said quietly.

*****

Ginny found Harry sitting in the dark office, a half-empty bottle of Firewhisky on the desk, next to a stack of dark purple Ministry files. 'You know the whisky only makes it worse.'

'I know.' The few times Harry had tried to use Firewhisky to keep the nightmares at bay hadn't helped at all. The dreams were more vivid and surreal. 'I've only had one glass.'

Ginny took the bottle off the desk. 'Want to tell me what happened?'

'I haven't laid eyes on the Malfoy mansion since I was captured in the war. Brought it all back. More than when the told the heathens about the war.'

Ginny reached for the switch on the desk lamp. It threw harsh shadows across Harry's face. He was still pale, the scar still a vivid slash under his fringe. 'We should have let Teddy take him home,' she said, her fingers tracing the scar, feeling the faint ridge under her fingertips.

'Yeah,' Harry said unhappily. 'Just when I think it's all gone.' He sighed and ran his hands through his hair, tugging it in frustration. 'I hate this week.'

'Why this one?'

'Probation interviews,' Harry moaned. 'And I get Umbridge.'

'That one might be fun,' said Ginny. 'Think about it as payback.' Ginny picked up Harry's cold, clammy hands. She ran her thumb over his wedding ring, before tilting the back of his right hand toward the light. If she looked closely, she could make out "I must not tell lies" in Harry's cramped scrawl etched into the skin. 'She'll have to answer to you, now.'

'Kingsley has a warped sense of humor,' Harry muttered.

'Harry...' Ginny stopped. There wasn't anything she could say right now. Harry often tried to fight his nightmares and demons alone, unwilling to admit, even now, that he would need help in the beginning. 'When are they over? The interviews?'

'Tomorrow. It's not a lot of them. Malfoy's the last one,' he sighed.

'I'll call Mum and see if she'll take the heathens Tuesday,' offered Ginny. She knew Harry wouldn't be in the best of moods after the interviews.

'No.' Harry pulled Ginny around the desk, and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his forehead on her stomach. He tilted his head back to look up at her. 'I need you. All of you,' he emphasized. 'It reminds me we won.'

His head dropped back down, and his shoulders sagged, as Ginny gently stroked his hair.

*****

Early the next afternoon, Draco sauntered into Harry's office. 'Potter,' he drawled.

Harry scowled a bit. 'Malfoy,' he replied. 'You're late,' he said mildly, marking the time on a sheet of parchment attached to the pile in Draco's file with a Permanent Sticking charm.

Draco dropped into a chair opposite the desk. 'Let's just get this humiliation over with, shall we?'

Harry said nothing but pulled a tiny vial from a locked drawer of his desk. He mutely pushed it across the desk.

Draco pulled the cork from the mouth of the vial. 'Cheers,' he muttered in an ironic toast before upending the contents down his throat.

Harry waited a few moments. The cold, haughty look faded from Draco's face, replaced by one of near-vacant eyed slackness. 'Residence?' Harry asked.

'You know where I live, Potter.' The hauteur never left Draco's voice, not even under the influence of Veritaserum.

'No, actually, I don't. I know your son lives there when he's not at school, and I know your wife lives there. Your mother is currently staying as a guest until she goes back to France. So please, state your residence.' Harry's voice grew cold and hard.

'The Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire.'

'Age?'

'Oh, Merlin's sagging bollocks, Potter, must we do this every bleeding six months?' Draco's language, normally modulated, degenerated into crude vernacular under the influence of Veritaserum.

'Until the Wizengamot says otherwise, or you die, then yes, we must do this every six months,' Harry replied evenly, knowing his lack of a reaction was irksome to Draco. 'Age?' he repeated.

'Thirty-eight,' Draco muttered.

'Occupation?'

Draco heaved an impatient sigh. 'None.'

'Wand?'

'Unicorn hair and hawthorn.'

'How long have you had it?' Harry sighed internally. Draco was right, damn him. Harry did know the answer to all these questions, but it was a formality that must be observed.

'Twenty-seven years, minus the weeks you had it.'

'May I see it?'

Draco pulled the wand from his pocket and slid it across the desk to Harry. Harry picked up the wand, feeling it hum in recognition as his hand closed around the handle. After twenty years, it still recognized him. Harry took the time to wonder if Draco's results with it were ever as good as they were before the war. He fought the urge to drop the wand and wipe his palm down the leg of his trousers. Instead, he twirled it, so the handle faced Draco, offering it back to him.

Every time he had to check Draco's wand it made Harry feel filthy. He knew the second he got home; he'd spend an hour in the shower, scrubbing himself until it felt like the topmost layer of skin was gone.

'Traveled anywhere the since we last spoke?'

'I spent Christmas with my parents in Nice, came back here for my interview with you in January, and went back to Nice until early June. I've been at the Manor ever since.'

'Been anywhere in Britain since then?'

'No,' Malfoy said flatly. 'But you and your little minions would know that wouldn't they?'

Harry ignored Malfoy. He wordlessly closed the file and put it away in a cabinet with the others, locking it with his wand. It would open only with a combination of Harry's thumbprint and his wand.

Harry leaned back in his chair, watching Malfoy through slitted eyes. The Veritaserum would wear off soon, and Malfoy could go home.

In a few minutes, the haze vanished from Malfoy's eyes. 'Are we done here?'

Harry nodded.

Draco rose from his chair and stalked from Harry's office. Harry pointed his wand at the door, and it swung shut and locked. He released the pent-up breath he felt like he'd been holding since the first interview, annoyed to find his hands shaking.

It was the same with all of them.

The first time Harry had to interview a wizard on probation; he had rushed home to his new flat, fighting the rising nausea. He had managed to stumble into the flat and dart into the bathroom, where he flung himself to the floor in front of the toilet, and threw up what little remained in his stomach. He'd only been eighteen at the time. He'd been required to use his neophyte Legilimency skills on his first interview, and being able to see inside Urquhart's mind had made him feel unclean.

The feeling never went away or lessened.