Questions and Answers

Harry waited nervously in the Charing Cross station, looking for Dudley. He wasn't sure what he was doing there, but Ginny seemed to feel it was important for him to do this - to meet with Dudley. 'Harry!' Dudley called, waving his hand in the air.

Harry walked to Dudley. 'Hiya.' He stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. 'So...'

'So you're wondering why you agreed to something so crazy?'

'Yeah, something like that.'

'Don't blame you.'

'Why did you want to do this?' Harry followed Dudley through the crowds of Saturday shoppers in the station.

'Some things need to be said face-to-face. Not in a letter, or a Christmas card, or even on a telephone call.'

'I can understand that...' Harry dodged a small child dawdling behind its mother. 'But why now after twenty years?'

'I've been wanting to for years, but you never seemed keen on taking the contact beyond the cards at Christmas.'

'I didn't,' Harry admitted in a low voice.

Dudley led the way up the stairs and into the hard, bright light of the January morning. 'I figured. When they let us go back home, all your stuff had been cleared out. They said you'd survived, so I figured it had to have been you. It was like you'd never been there.' Dudley paused. 'Remember that tea I left you and it spilled?'

Harry ran his index finger over his thumb. He could remember the broken china jabbing into his finger. 'Yeah. I stepped on the cup.'

Dudley glanced at Harry. 'Mum never could get the stain out of the carpet,' he informed his cousin slyly.

Harry burst into surprised laughter. 'I'll bet that drove her mad,' he spluttered.

'It did.'

A bit of ice seemed to thaw around Harry. He and Dudley chatted superficially about Dudley's work teaching and Harry's children as they made their way to an out-of-the way coffee shop, where they found a quiet corner to talk. 'So why do teachers feel the need to constantly ring to remind us Lily has an assignment due?' Harry asked, stirring his coffee. 'She's got one this year. Every bloody week the mobile rings and Lily threatens to bury it in the woods behind our house.'

Dudley snorted. 'I never do that. I think my students ought to learn to remember to do those things on their own, but I guess I'm old-fashioned.' He took a sip of his latte. 'But I actually have a life, and don't usually get fussed unless the git's habitually skiving off his homework.'

'So... We're here. What did you want to talk about?'

'Oh, well.' Dudley cleared his throat. 'I wanted to thank you.'

'For...?' Harry asked uncertainly.

'I'm not sure what happened that one summer. Right after I was fifteen. In that tunnel. Do you remember?'

Harry circled the rim of his cup with a finger. 'Yeah,' he said quietly. 'I do.'

'Things weren't the same after that,' Dudley continued. 'You said they were... Dementeds? I don't really remember.'

'Dementors,' supplied Harry. 'They used to guard our prison. They don't anymore.'

'I've never felt so terrible in all my life. Do they make everyone feel that way?' Dudley asked curiously.

Harry let out a slow breath. 'Yes and no. They make everyone rather unhappy, but they seem to find the thing that would make you hurt the most and make you live it.'

'I saw my parents kicking me out to the street for my "abnormality". I saw the way they treated you all our lives, and they're my parents for God's sake, I didn't want to think about the idea they could treat me like that. I mean, you know how they feel about conformity.'

Harry nearly inhaled a sip of coffee. 'Conformity is putting it lightly, don't you think?' he coughed.

'I suppose.' Dudley smiled wryly. 'They've rather taken the attempt to be more ordinary than anyone else to a whole new level, haven't they?'

'How long have you known? I mean one of the boys' teachers is gay. Well, if they get to the advanced level of his class, he and his partner teach it together. I've known Gareth and Rafa since before Al was born, and they've said they always knew...'

'Yeah.' Dudley cradled his cup between his large hands. 'That's about right.' He took a gulp of his drink. 'I didn't want to be different. So I tried everything to be normal, whatever the hell that is. I tried to be what I thought a real man was. You do whatever you can to bury the sense of self-loathing. I knew my parents loved the ordinary, average Dudley. When I was seventeen, I think if I had come out to them, they might have treated me worse than you. I think I knew that before then. I didn't want to admit it to anyone, least of all myself. And to make up for how badly I felt about me, I took it out on everyone.' Dudley looked at the table's scarred surface. 'I'm sorry,' he said quietly, but earnestly. He met Harry's eyes. 'I'm so sorry for how I treated you when we were children. I don't have an excuse. And I don't expect you to ever forgive me for that.'

Harry stared at Dudley. 'I don't quite know what to say...' He toyed with the spoon and set it on the table with a sharp clatter in the quiet room. 'It took years for me to get past that. That first card you sent, it took me a year to be able to send one back to you.'

'I was really surprised when you did.'

'Yeah, well...' Harry rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. 'I've done a lot of things for the sake of my children that I never thought I'd do. When James was born, figured maybe, maybe it was time to let a few things go for good...' Harry gazed at Dudley. 'Why did you send that first card?'

Dudley tilted his chair on its back two legs, eyes tracing the pattern of moldings on the ceiling. 'I needed to try. You see, I also remember when that old bloke came to get you when we were sixteen - the one with the long beard?'

'My Headmaster. Professor Dumbledore.'

'Yeah. He said something about Mum and Dad damaging me. I was quite thick when I was younger so it took a while for what he meant to sink in. I didn't want to think about it, but when I went back to school, I realized I needed to quit hiding. I needed to stop trying to be something I wasn't. I needed to stop trying to conform to this idea of what was normal. And I needed to take a long, hard look at what I'd done with my life and try to change it.'

Harry sipped his coffee, more out of a need for something to do, than out of thirst. 'How did you find me?'

'Google,' Dudley replied promptly.

'Figures,' Harry muttered.

'You know Google?' Dudley asked, surprise evident on his face.

'Yeah. The kids have had to use a computer occasionally for school. Primary school.'

'Anyway,' Dudley sighed. 'I just wanted to apologize in person.' He pushed his chair back and stood up. 'It was really nice to see you. Thanks for letting me do this.' He started to walk away.

'Dudley?' Harry said suddenly. Dudley stopped and half-turned toward the table. 'We should do this again sometime.' Harry took a deep breath and blurted, 'Maybe we could even have dinner? You, me, Gin, and Aaron?'

Dudley nodded. 'I'd like that.' With that, he left and Harry was left alone at the table, staring into the remains of his scummy coffee.

'What did I just do?' he asked aloud, glancing at his cousin's retreating form.

*****

Breakfast brought the usual flurry of owls to the Gryffindor table, so Scorpius wasn't surprised when a strange owl landed in front of him. His grandmother often used Owl Post to spare her owl the frequent journeys from France. He took the letter it offered him and tucked it into his pocket. He could read it later. After he finished his homework for Herbology, Potions, and Transfiguration. They had really piled it on this weekend. Professor Trentham in particular had set them a two-foot essay about changing insects into inanimate objects. And because some of the more idiotic members of the Potions class had not followed directions, causing a massive explosion that left the dungeon's ceiling coated in a foul-smelling, acid yellow paste, they had to write an essay detailing proper classroom procedures for Potions class. They also had to pinpoint exactly where those particular students had gone wrong with their assigned potion for the day. He, Al, and Rose were looking forward to a long, dreary day cooped up in the library.

Isabella plopped into the bench on the opposite side of the table. 'Are you sure you can't spare an hour to play Quidditch today?'

'Izzy, we've been through this. Williams' and Trentham's essays are going to take all day, as it is.' Rose gave her older cousin a look that reminded everybody of her mother.

'You can't do it tomorrow?' Isabella asked, undeterred.

'We've got Neville's, too,' Al reminded her. 'That's not exactly an easy one, either.'

'Oh, please,' Maddie huffed. 'Neville's class is so bloody easy, you'd have to be a troll to fail it.'

'Blame Greengrass, and his lot.' Rose's ears turned red. 'They started throwing dragon dung fertilizer and it took Neville so long to get the class settled and cleaned up, that we didn't get to finish the lesson, so he's assigned us each an herb to grow for use in Potions before the Easter holiday, and we have to research the best ways to cultivate it,' she rattled.

'You have the worst class,' Fred commented.

'And that's saying something, coming from us,' added Jacob.

James nodded vigorously, his cheeks distended with potatoes.

'James, that's disgusting!' exclaimed Maddie. 'Must you act like you haven't eaten in months?'

James merely shrugged.

Isabella shook her head. 'Fine,' she said tiredly. 'Just remember we've got practice tomorrow after breakfast.'

'We'll be there,' Al promised. 'I know, we've got that match against Hufflepuff coming up soon, and you don't want to lose to Parker. Keep the streak alive,' he said in a too-hearty voice.

'I hope you attitude improves before then,' Isabella pronounced haughtily.

Scorpius burst into peals of laughter. 'Izzy, of all the people on the team, Al's attitude is not the one you have to worry about. He all but sleeps with a Snitch clutched in one hand.'

'You weren't supposed to say that!' hissed Al in severe mortification.

*****

Scorpius slowly shut the heavy book and rested his head on the polished surface of the table. 'I don't ever want to look at another word about how to grow shrivelfigs in Britain ever again until I have to take N.E.W.T.s.'

'You can stay that again,' seconded Rose. 'I'm going to kill Greengrass.'

'I'll hold him down while you do it,' volunteered Al, rubbing his eyes. 'What time is it, anyway?'

Rose checked her watch. 'Past lunch, but not quite dinner.'

'Could be worse,' Scorpius said, his voice muffled by the table. 'We could have missed dinner altogether.'

'Bite your tongue!' whispered Rose, scandalized. 'I'm starving...' she moaned.

'Sorry, Rosie,' Scorpius sighed. He dug into his back pocket and pulled out the letter he'd received that morning. He frowned at the handwriting on the front. It didn't belong to his grandmother. Or his mother, or Teddy. And while it had been a while since he'd seen his father's handwriting, it didn't belong to his father, either. With more than a bit of trepidation, Scorpius slowly unsealed the envelope.

16 January 2019

Dear Scorpius,

I'm really sorry for how I behaved when you were here at Christmas. You've always been nice to me, even when my brothers haven't. You're not the only one with dodgy family. My dad has some pretty awful ones, and he's still nice.

I really do like the book you gave me. I read it all the time.

I hope you get to come over during the summer holidays.

Sincerely,

Lily Potter

'What's that?' Al asked peering over Scorpius' shoulder.

'Nothing,' Scorpius said hastily, folding the letter and shoving it into his bag.

'Didn't look like nothing.'

'It's nothing,' Scorpius repeated, a small smile playing on his mouth, opening the book in front of him, and continuing with his essay.

*****

Harry trudged into the Leaky Cauldron after spending most of the afternoon wandering around London. He squinted around the dim room and spotted Neville nursing a pint at the end of the bar. 'Hey, Neville,' he said wearily.

'Harry!' Neville exclaimed in genuine pleasure. 'What are you doing here?'

'Just spent the afternoon trying to figure out why I suggested to my cousin that he and his partner ought to have dinner with Gin and me sometime,' Harry explained, and proceeded to give Neville the details of his conversation with Dudley.

'So what's the problem?'

'I think perhaps dinner might be a bit much,' Harry sighed.

Neville's brow knit in confusion. 'I thought the two of you got on a lot better these days.'

'We do,' admitted Harry. 'It's just kind of hard to forget all the other things he did to me when I was growing up. When it's just cards or letters, he's kind of something abstract to me. He's not a real person.'

Neville slid off his stool and thoughtfully drew another pint for himself and one of Harry. He set the glasses down on the bar and came back around. 'Can I ask you something odd?'

'Sure.'

'If you didn't have to deal with Malfoy twice a year, would you start to think of him in the abstract?'

'Probably.'

'So because you have to interact with Malfoy, are you more inclined to see him as real person, and not a collection of behaviors or someone to despise on principle?'

Harry tilted the glass back and took a few swallows of the bitter Neville had given him. He thought back over all he knew about Draco. The memories Harry had seen, tinged with bitter self-hatred and loathing. The sheer mental abuse from the experience of living with Bellatrix Lestrange was enough to make Harry pity the man. The longing to understand his son, mixed with confusion about the disappointment Draco had felt when he realized Scorpius had forged his own path, in total disregard of familial traditions. And the utter helplessness in the face of the fact nothing in his life had turned out they way he thought it was supposed to be. 'I guess,' he replied slowly.

'And by the same token, it bothers you that you might have been wrong about Dudley,' stated Neville. 'Children tend to follow their parents' lead about how to handle themselves. And when you'd rather die than be the odd one, you do what you have to do to blend in. And granted, I've never really met your aunt and uncle, they sound like the type to have chucked your cousin to the street if he'd told them the truth about himself before he was grown and on his own.' Neville drew a finger through a puddle of bitter on the bar. 'And for you to realize he acted the way he did out of a sense of self-preservation is something you can understand. And you can't keep him at arm's length anymore.'

Harry started coughing as he inhaled a swallow of his drink. 'You got all that from this conversation?' he wheezed skeptically.

Neville just shook his head. 'You learn a lot working with children. Especially when they start to empathize with someone they can't stand. Tends to throw them for a loop a bit.'

Harry drained his glass. 'You can say that again,' he muttered. It had been somewhat disconcerting to realize that Dudley had harbored the fear that his parents would abandon him for something as simple as admitting who he was. It wasn't surprising, given how they had treated Harry as a child. He could no more hide his magic, than he could make his hair lie down. It wasn't something he could hide, nor deny, once he'd discovered he could manipulate magic. He couldn't imagine having to suppress something that was as much a part of him as his arms or legs. 'It must have been a nightmare for him,' he said slowly. 'To try and live like that for so long.'

'Probably was.' Neville picked up Harry's glass and refilled it. 'Go easy on that one,' he cautioned. 'It packs quite a punch later.'

'Why didn't I see that before?' Harry mused.

'The truth?' Neville asked.

'Yeah.'

'You can be a little egocentric,' Neville ventured. 'Not in a bad way,' he added quickly when Harry shot him a questioning look. 'You don't think the world revolves around you, and you make every effort to avoid the spotlight, but...' Neville worried his bottom lip between his teeth. 'You can hold a grudge like nobody else I know. Except maybe Ron... It's just that you can wallow in something for years. And it's incredibly difficult to convince you to change your opinion about people. Because you've always gotten the idea that your first impression is the right one. And sometimes it is, but sometimes it's not...' He reached out and tentatively touched Harry on the shoulder. 'Sometimes, you just have to let it go...' he said softly.

Harry jerked in surprise. 'That's what Ginny said last summer...' he murmured.

'She's right.' Neville gave Harry's shoulder a brief squeeze. 'I have to get back to the school, but could you think about something for me?' Harry nodded. 'I didn't have any family left after Gran died. Aside from Hannah's, but you know what I mean.' Harry nodded again. He did know. 'You've got a chance to start over with someone who is your family.' Neville rubbed his eyes. 'I'd give anything to have that.' He slid off his stool. 'Are you coming up for the boys' next game?'

'Yeah. Ginny and I thought we'd go up see them play.'

'I hope we'll see you.' Neville disappeared into Hannah's office.

Harry picked up his glass and upended it, swallowing the bitter left in it. It was time to go home.

*****

Harry trailed through the front door of the house, shedding his coat as he did so. It was unnaturally quiet for a Saturday evening. 'Ginny?' he called. 'Lily? Are you here?'

'I'm in the kitchen,' Ginny replied.

Harry followed the sound of Ginny's voice. 'Hey.' He noticed the table setting and picked up a plate, examining it closely. It was the set of china Andromeda had given them at their wedding - the set intended for Remus and Tonks when they had married. 'This is the good china,' he commented.

'Yes, it is.'

'When was the last time we had this out?' Harry set the plate back on the table, taking in the heavy Irish linen tablecloth. It had been a wedding gift from Seamus and they rarely used it. 'It's been at least ten years,' he commented, tracing the chrysanthemum pattern woven into it.

'A bit more than eleven years,' corrected Ginny.

Harry stood behind Ginny and wrapped his arms around her waist. 'That's an awfully long time. What's the occasion?'

'It's been one of those weeks,' she sighed. 'I thought we could use a nice, quiet dinner. Just the two of us.'

'Where's Lily?' Harry asked.

'With Charlie and Bronwyn. She asked if she could go to the reservation when I went to Holyhead to cover the Keeper tryouts this afternoon.'

Harry dipped his finger into the sauce Ginny stirred on the stove. 'They didn't mind?'

'Nope.'

'What's the catch?' Harry asked in mock-suspicion. They didn't mind watching each other's children from time to time.

Ginny grinned wryly. 'We've got Aiden next week.'

'Yeah, that'll be really difficult,' Harry told her. 'Because Aiden's such a demanding child,' he added impishly.

Ginny snorted and batted Harry's hand away as it made another attempt to delve into the béchamel sauce. 'Stop that,' she muttered. 'He's nearly as quiet as Charlie,' she said. I think they might have said ten words between the two of them when I dropped Lily off.'

'Poor Aiden,' Harry said sympathetically. 'Two weekends in a row as Lily's captive audience.'

Ginny handed Harry a bottle of wine. 'Here, open this...'

'It doesn't add up, though.'

'What doesn't?'

Harry pried the cork from the mouth of the bottle. 'We'll have Aiden, but not Owen?'

Ginny carefully set a platter on the table. 'He's going to Bronwyn's father's for the weekend. Daffyd has a shift in the hatchery, and Owen's mad for dragons.'

Harry pulled out Ginny's chair for her. 'Since we're being civilized tonight...' He sat in his own chair and poured a glass of wine for each of them.

Ginny took a sip of the wine, letting it slide down the back of her throat. 'So how did it go today?' she asked nonchalantly.

Harry didn't answer her immediately. He concentrated instead on filling his plate, then drizzling an alarming amount of the béchamel over the broccoli - he wouldn't eat it unless it was drowning in some sort of sauce. 'It was all right,' he finally told her, taking a bite of his broccoli.

Ginny rolled her eyes and forked a piece of chicken to her plate. 'Just all right?'

Harry glanced at her over the rims of his glasses. 'Interesting,' he elaborated.

'Must have been. You were gone an awfully long time.'

Harry set his fork down and picked up his wineglass. 'Actually, we weren't together that much,' he admitted. 'Less than an hour.'

'He must not have said anything untoward,' Ginny stated. 'If he had, you'd still be seething about it.'

'Am I that bad?' Harry huffed exasperatedly. 'First Neville, now you.'

Ginny cocked her head to one side, and slowly gave Harry a once-over. 'You were when you were younger. If someone or something had upset you, you fairly vibrated with it. More controlled about it now, though, but it depends on a host of other things.'

'Like...?' Harry asked warily.

Ginny carefully cut a bite of chicken while she formulated an answer. 'What day of the week it is, whether you're sober or not, what you've been doing before, whether or not James is up to his elbows in something guaranteed to take the mickey out of Al or Lily... '

'Cute,' Harry deadpanned.

'It's true,' Ginny informed her husband. 'But I digress. It's been a while since you blasted something out of sheer irritation, but I've known you for how long now? Over twenty-five years? I know when you're upset about something, even if you're not about to make a new doorway for the scullery.'

Harry turned his gaze to his plate, and shoved a broccoli spear around a pool of béchamel. 'I think I might have done something I might regret later...' he said slowly.

'You didn't hex him, did you?' Ginny asked, her brows drifting up slightly in alarm.

'No. I invited him out to dinner. The four of us.'

'How is this a bad thing?' Ginny swallowed half her glass of wine. 'You can't possibly believe he's going to be the same as he was before.'

'No, it's not Dudley that's going to be the problem... It's me.' Harry confessed. He pushed his chair away from the table and began to pace around the kitchen. 'He seems to have moved past it all, but what if I haven't been able to? What if I can't?'

Ginny reached out a hand and grabbed Harry's wrist as he walked by, her fingertips resting on the pulse that raced faster than the wings of a Snitch. Her hand tightened around his wrist. 'Look at me...' He kept his gaze on the floor. 'Harry, look at me.' Ginny could see his eyes squeeze shut, and she stood, using her free hand to tilt his chin up, as if he was one of the children. 'Harry, look at me...' she demanded softly. Painfully, he met her eyes. 'If you hadn't gotten past it, then what would you call the past fourteen years?'

'Being polite?' he retorted.

'You never had to reply to his cards or letters, but you have. Every single one. And you went today.' Ginny made Harry sit in his chair and released his wrist.

'I don't know what to do,' Harry admitted in a tight whisper. 'It's just too damn hard to forget.'

'Nobody's asking you to forget.'

'He apologized,' Harry said. 'He wanted to apologize in person. And he said he didn't expect forgiveness.' He clasped his hands together in his lap. 'I don't think I can.'

Ginny picked up the wineglass and swirled it, watching the candlelight glow through the ruby liquid. 'What if you started over?'

'What?'

'People change. I'm not telling you to forgive the Dudley that treated you so horribly when you were younger. But could you at least give this one a chance. He's been just as much a victim of his parents as you were. And both of you survived.' Ginny leaned closer and brushed a soft kiss across Harry's mouth. 'Just promise me you'll think about it.' She picked up her plate and carried to the counter, leaving most of her dinner uneaten.

Harry rested his elbows on his knees and watched Ginny leave the kitchen. He looked at his cooling dinner and made a face, before his eye caught Ginny's abandoned place. He sighed and mentally smacked himself. She had planned a nice evening for the two of them, and he had completely ruined it. Neville's right... I do let so much get to me that it damn near ruins everything else. It's a wonder Ginny puts up with me. He carried his own plate to the sink, and began to carefully wash the dishes by hand. Ginny would cheerfully murder him in his sleep if he chipped a plate. In time, he had washed and dried all the dishes and stowed them away in the dresser. He flicked his wand at the tablecloth, and it folded itself neatly. Harry picked it up and put it away. He turned the lights out and went upstairs to their bedroom.

Ginny's clothes were heaped on the floor outside the bathroom, and Harry put a hand on the doorknob. 'Gin?' he called through the door. She didn't answer. Harry dropped into the armchair in the corner and picked up the frame that sat on the table. There were two sides: one side held a photograph of the two of them from their wedding day taken just as dusk was falling and the fairy lights strung through the trees began to twinkle; the other was from that past Christmas of the five of them at the Burrow.

For the second time that week, Harry wondered how much different his life would have been, had he not met the Weasleys.