Questions and Answers

Lily wrinkled her nose at the row of tiles in front of her. She had a Q, C, C, O, E, F, and B. Six years of Muggle primary school had taught her a lot, but it hadn't taught her how make something from that mess. Scanning the board, a pair of letters caught her eye. She looked back at her options, and grinned manically. With a flair for the dramatic, she laid down the two Cs and the O. 'Accio,' she said triumphantly.

Scorpius' eyes narrowed. 'You can't do that,' he objected.

'Why not?'

'It's not really a word.'

'Seriously?' Lily scoffed. 'We use it all the time.' She took a moment to consider what she'd just said. 'Well I don't. But Mum does when she doesn't think James and Al have brought all their dirty socks down to the scullery.'

'Isn't it always capitalized?' Scorpius asked, paging through the rules booklet.

'I dunno,' Lily admitted. 'Is it, Mum?'

Ginny looked at the pair over the edge of her book. 'Truthfully?' The two children nodded emphatically. 'Usually. Unless you're Ron, and your penmanship's absolutely atrocious to the point where you can't tell if it's supposed to be capitalized or not.'

Scorpius looked at Lily, who was frowning at the board, ready to pick up the tiles and start all over again. 'We can use words in hexes, jinxes, or charms,' he blurted. 'But no plants or potions ingredients.'

'But that's against the rules,' Lily said.

'Bugger the rules.' Scorpius clapped a hand over his mouth and glanced at Ginny, who was biting her lip in an effort to keep from laughing. 'Erm, I mean...' he coughed, turning a rich shade of scarlet. 'I mean, blast the rules...' he choked.

Lily fell over to the rug, bubbling over in giggles. 'You think Mum thinks you don't know the word "bugger"?' she chortled.

'It's not a word we use in polite society,' Ginny reminded Lily.

Lily grinned impudently at her mother and began to count her score. 'Nine points,' told Scorpius, who wrote it down in the column under her name. The weather had taken a turn for the worse two days ago, and it was wretched outside. Rainy, blustery, and cold to the point that it kept even Al and James inside. They were on the other side of the sitting room, with James' model Quidditch pitch, discussing tactics for the next match against Slytherin.

Scorpius carefully added a word to the board between them, and added his points. 'Protego. Triple letter score on the P.' He gave Lily a wide grin.

Curiously, Lily glanced at Ginny, sprawled in an armchair. Lily watched her mother's small nod of satisfaction, and mentally shrugged. Ginny wasn't what Lily would term overprotective, but she couldn't recall a time when her mother had hovered quite so much. She'd been doing that ever since Tuesday. Lily didn't really mind the hovering, since Ginny didn't really intrude much. If they were in the sitting room playing games or watching a film, Ginny either brought a book or participated in their games or film viewing.

There were other things Lily noticed. Ginny usually caressed her children's heads in passing, or patted them on the shoulder, or even gave them a brief hug or kiss. Before this holiday, Ginny had included Scorpius at times, but now it seemed like she gave him those small signs of affection as much as she did to the rest of her children. It was a subtle shift that had taken Lily a few days to notice. She heard Scorpius speaking. 'Huh?'

He indicated the board between them. 'It's your turn.'

Lily examined the row of tiles in front of her. 'Right...'

*****

Rose settled into the backseat of the car, glancing at Hugo with a sigh. Hugo didn't travel in the car well. He had a tendency to get sick on long trips. The drive to Oxford was usually at the limit of his threshold of tolerance. She pulled a book from her bag and gave Hugo another glance. 'Why don't you read or something?'

Hugo's eyes closed miserably. 'Makes it worse,' he reminded her.

'What are you going to do on the train in September?' she asked interestedly. 'It's a long trip. Usually doesn't get into Hogsmeade until after six.'

Hugo cracked an eyelid. 'Oh, Godric's ratty pants,' he muttered in trepidation. 'What do you do for seven hours?'

Rose shrugged. 'Talk, eat, play games, sleep - if you can find a compartment quiet enough...' She eyed Hugo's pale face again. He had gone green about the edges. 'Maybe Mum can get you a potion or something.'

'Trains are fine,' Hugo muttered, trying to keep his mouth closed. 'Long as I can face the front.'

'You're so weird,' Rose told him. 'If you didn't look like Dad, I'd swear you were adopted.'

Hermione glanced in the rearview mirror. 'Trust me,' she assured her children. 'Hugo is most definitely not adopted. I was there for the whole event.'

Rose's nose wrinkled. 'Ewwww.'

'How do you think you got here?' Hugo said scornfully to his sister.

'I like to think I appeared out of thin air,' Rose muttered.

'All right, enough,' Hermione sighed.

'Why are we going to see Gran?' Rose asked.

'You don't want to go see your grandmother before you go back to school?' Hermione retorted, with another glance in the mirror.

Rose sighed and marked her place in her book. 'But we just saw her yesterday,' Rose pointed out. 'You're getting forgetful in your old age, Mum.'

'Forty is not old,' Hermione huffed.

'You're not forty yet,' Rose said. 'But really, why are we going back to Oxford?'

A line appeared between Hermione's eyebrows. 'She called this morning. Seemed upset about something.' Hermione bit her lip, worrying it between her teeth. She reverted to something she had been doing for years to regain some of her equilibrium. 'All right, then, Rosie... What are the twelve uses for dragons' blood?' She felt the tension slowly leave her shoulders as Rose recited the uses of dragons' blood and some of the more common potions in which they were used. 'What is the difference between wolfsbane and aconite?'

Rose snorted. 'Please, Mum. Too easy. They're the same thing.'

The verbal lesson continued all the way to Oxford when Hermione pulled the car into the drive of her parents' house. Hermione opened the front door of the house and walked in ahead of Rose and Hugo. 'Mum?' she called. 'Mum, are you here?'

Jane appeared at the door to the sitting room. She frowned slightly at Hermione, her gaze settling on Rose. Her frail-looking hand reached out and fingered Rose's blazing curls. 'Hermione, what did you do to your hair?'

Rose's response was cut off by her mother's hand squeezing her shoulder. Hermione's voice was tense as she said, 'Mum, that's Rose...'

Jane shook her head a little. 'Of course it is,' she said a little too vaguely for Hermione's comfort. 'She just looks so much like you...' Jane trailed off, heading for the kitchen. 'Come on, I'll make you some tea...'

'Mum?' Hugo's voice was small in the stillness that enveloped the three of them. 'Rosie doesn't look that much like you,' he said bluntly.

Fear trailed a cold finger down Hermione's spine. 'I know.'

The rest of the day, Hermione was uncharacteristically silent as she helped Rose pack her things to catch the train back to school the next morning. Ron waited until both the children were asleep before he broached the subject. 'What's the matter, hen?' he asked, as she climbed into bed. 'You're too quiet.'

'The past few times we've been to see Mum, have you noticed anything strange?'

'Define strange,' Ron said softly.

'She called Rosie Hermione today.' Hermione's voice caught slightly. 'Said she looks just like me, like it was a mistake.'

Ron's brow wrinkled. 'That's a bit of a stretch,' he said with much more tact than his son.

'She meant it. She really thought Rosie was me...' Hermione rolled over and buried her face in Ron's chest, her shoulders shaking. 'Something is horribly, horribly wrong,' she choked

Ron didn't know what to say. To him, Jane was still fairly young, in wizarding terms. Witches and wizards weren't considered old until they were at least a hundred. He wrapped his arms around his wife, and stroked her hair. He didn't know much about what could happen to Muggles as they aged, but he knew this didn't sound good.

Ginny hugged James and Al before letting them board the train, extracting promises from them that they would write more often. She turned to Scorpius; standing huddled in his coat, shoulders hunched against the chill. She wrapped her arms around him in a hug no less warm than the ones she had given James or Al. Scorpius tentatively returned it, his ears turning pink. Ginny released him and sent him toward the waiting train. 'You'll write, too,' Ginny told him.

'What?'

'If you want,' Ginny said quickly, not wanting to seem presumptuous. 'Just let us know how you're doing from time to time.'

'Oh, okay...' Scorpius ducked his head bashfully and dashed for the train. He tumbled into the compartment, and waved to Lily. She waved back, leaning against Ginny. Scorpius sat with his nose nearly pressed against the glass, watching Lily and Ginny grow smaller and smaller as the train headed north. Sighing with a small amount of regret at having to go back to school, Scorpius found his way back to the compartment with Al and Rosie. The train was much less crowded for the Easter holiday. Most students usually just stayed at school - especially the fifth and seventh years so they could study for their exams. Scorpius figured they'd have to do that soon enough, and was grateful for the moments he could steal with the Potters and Weasleys. He hoped that one day; he could create that kind of environment for his children. He wouldn't have wished his childhood on his Greengrass cousins, no matter how much he hated them.

He plopped on the seat across from Rose, who looked uncharacteristically glum. 'All right, Rosie?' Rose shrugged listlessly and turned her head to look out the window.

Al frowned at Rose. She wasn't the moody type. If Rose had a mood at all, it was one of long-suffering resignation directed at her peers, including her family members. Rose was so bright, that it generally only took her a few tries to master most of the spells and charms they learned. Even though she rarely paid attention in History of Magic, she kept several dusty tomes around for "light" reading, and was several lessons ahead of Professor Binns. 'Come on, Rose. Something's bothering you... You can tell us.'

'My grandmother forgot who I was,' Rose mumbled. She turned her attention back to Al and Scorpius. 'Not Grandmum,' she said to Al's unasked question. 'My mum's mother.' She returned her unblinking gaze to the countryside speeding past the windows. 'She even called me Hermione...' Rose blinked slowly, unmindful of the tears that spilled from the corners of her eyes. Both boys squirmed uncomfortably. Rose didn't cry as a rule. At least not in public.

'I'll go find Maddie and Izzy,' Scorpius whispered, heading down the corridor, looking for the compartment where the older cousins gathered. He peered into windows, feeling his stomach clench. Rose was the closest thing he had to a sister and he hated to see her cry like that. He saw the glint of Izzy's dark red hair, and burst through the door of their compartment. They looked up in surprise at Scorpius, standing there alone. He, Rose, and Al were usually connected at the hip. 'It's Rosie...' he said, gesturing helplessly down the corridor. Without another word, the two older girls hurried down the corridor. Scorpius trailed after them, arriving at his compartment in time to see Maddie and Izzy enfold Rose between them. He edged into the compartment, settling on the edge of the seat next to Al.

He wondered if he would be able to maintain his relationship with Al's family once they were finished with school. He desperately wanted his children, if he ever had any, to be able to have what Al and his siblings and cousins had.

It was a rather somber trip back to school.

*****

Teddy nervously checked himself in the mirror in the bathroom of his flat. He ran his hands over his hair, wishing it didn't turn colors when he was anxious about something. He smoothed the nonexistent wrinkles from his shirt and sighed. 'Now or never,' he told his reflection. He left the bathroom, and picked up his coat from the arm of his sofa. Pulling it on, he left the flat and Disapparated to Cornwall, feeling slightly sick to his stomach. Today was the day. He didn't have to work that week, and the full moon was still several days away.

He reappeared in front of Shell Cottage, his mouth feeling like it was full of cotton wool. 'This is crazy,' he muttered, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

'Teddy? Ees zat you?' Teddy glanced behind him. Fleur was on her knees, gathering flowers from the beds snuggled against the walls of the house. 'Hi, Mrs. Weasley,' he called weakly.

Fleur was amused by his use of her last name. He hadn't called her Mrs. Weasley in... well, never. 'Victoire ees inside,' she told him, getting to her feet with the careless grace of her youth. She held the basket of cut flowers out to Teddy. 'Would you take zees inside to her?'

'Sure.' Teddy held the basket, his sweaty palms slipping over the handle. He started walking toward the door. 'Is Mr. Weasley here?'

'Ah, oui. He ees in ze back.'

'Thanks,' Teddy muttered, attempting to open the door, his slick hand sliding over the doorknob. Groaning softly, he ran his hand surreptitiously down the side of his trousers and tried the door again. He went through the small sitting room to the kitchen, inhaling the homey aromas of dried herbs, the chicken roasting in the oven. Shell Cottage was warm and welcoming, much like the Burrow or Harry and Ginny's house. He entered the kitchen, smiling when he saw Victoire surrounded by thick, brand-new books, scowling at one of them.

'I take it you got into the second year,' he said, setting the flowers down on the table.

'Of course I did,' Victoire said dismissively. 'Second highest score in my group,' she informed Teddy proudly. 'Just got my results this morning.'

'That's fantastic, Vic,' Teddy said. 'Maybe we can go celebrate later.' Teddy turned one of the books around and shuddered. It was a highly advanced potions book. Teddy had been absolute rubbish at potion-brewing, much to his grandmother's dismay. He traced the lettering on the cover. Dad was rubbish at it, too, he thought with a pang. It's what Harry had told him when he hadn't earned a high enough O.W.L. to take N.E.W.T.-level Potions. Teddy had gone up to the attic of his grandmother's house, and dug through Remus' diaries, unearthing a fragile piece of parchment with his father's O.W.L. results. It had lightened his heart considerably to find that his father had only achieved an Acceptable as well.

Victoire examined Teddy's attire. He was almost too... neat. 'All right, Ted?' she asked, closing her new textbook.

'Yeah... I'm... I'm just going to go talk to your dad for a minute...' he murmured indistinctly.

Vctoire watched as Teddy left the kitchen, his hair slowly changing from turquoise to his natural sandy brown. She frowned quizzically as he approached Bill. Unlike most people, Teddy didn't blush when he was nervous. His hair changed colors. She turned to the basket of flowers and Summoned a vase and began to arrange them, more for something to do than any real interest in the task.

Victoire took the flowers to the table and drifted to the windowsill, watching her father and boyfriend stroll along the shore. She turned her head when Fleur walked into the kitchen. 'I'm pretty sure he's not here to ask about my exam results,' Victoire told her mother.

'Non,' Fleur said enigmatically with a small smile that reminded Victoire of a painting they had seen last summer on a trip to Paris to visit her mother's family.

Victoire gave Fleur a narrow-eyed glare. 'What do you know?'

'No more zan you.' Fleur ran her hand over Victoire's hair. Harry's sensibilities were written all over this. Fleur leaned against the counter. 'Ze first time I met your fazzer, I knew he was ze man I was going to marry,' she commented with studied nonchalance.

'How did you know that?' Victoire laughed. She didn't believe in love at first sight.

Fleur's smile broadened. 'I saw him at ze Triwizard at Hogwarts, and we spent a few minutes talking. He talked to me.' She saw the question fly into Victoire's eyes. 'He saw me, not ze Veela-girl,' she explained. 'Even when I moved here to work at Gringotts, it was always me.' Fleur languidly waved her wand and began to set the table for dinner. 'But zat first time...' Fleur said wistfully. 'It was ze first time a boy, or a man, for zat matter, didn't trip all over zemselves to talk to me. And I zought to myself zat zis was a man I could spend ze rest of my life wiz...'

'All from one conversation?' Victoire asked skeptically.

'Oui.'

Victoire snorted. 'That sounds like rubbish, Mum.'

Fleur regarded her daughter with a faint pitying gaze. 'You are just like you fazzer,' she sighed.

'So why all the marriage talk?'

'Teddy has grown up to be a very, very good man,' Fleur said.

'Yes, he has...' Victoire didn't know where her mother was taking this line of thought.

Fleur gestured to the garden. Bill was standing outside the gate, watching Teddy trudge into the house, his gaze flicking between Victoire and Teddy. Bill bore an almost comically sad expression. 'I zink your fazzer wants to talk wiz you.'

Victoire walked past Teddy, who looked at her with a shrug, his eyes on the toes of his shoes.

*****

Teddy approached Bill warily, despite the more than twenty years Teddy had known him. 'Erm, Mr. Weasley?' he asked, clearing his throat.

'Mr. Weasley?' Bill glanced up from the bed of wolfsbane Fleur planted as a joke. 'Why so formal? You've never called me that before.'

'Huh... well...' Teddy's hair flopped into his eyes. 'I, um, I need to ask you something...'

Bill's eyebrow rose. He hadn't expected to have this conversation so soon. He rose to his feet, dusting his hands on his jeans. 'Let's go take a walk, Ted,' he said somberly. Teddy followed Bill to the beach, and began to walk next to him, listening to the sounds of the surf and screeching gulls echoing against the cliffs. It sounded lonely and forlorn. He wondered when he could start talking when Bill opened his mouth. 'I know why you're here. Harry's drummed enough integrity into your head over the years, that if you want to propose to my girl, you'd come talk to Fleur and me first,' Bill said.

'Y-y-y-y-yes, sir,' Teddy stammered.

Bill sighed and stared at the roiling current of the sea. 'She has to finish her training first. Before you two marry each other.'

'Okay,' Teddy said faintly, rubbing his hands down the sides of his trousers again.

'That's four years, you know,' Bill said.

Teddy met Bill's eyes squarely and for the first time since he crawled out of bed that day felt a preternatural sense of calm settle over him. 'She's worth the wait,' he told Bill, determination threading through his voice.

Bill felt his shoulders slump a little. He hated seeing his daughter grow up so fast. 'I'm not so daft as to answer for Fleur, but...' Bill nodded, unable to finish the sentence. He looked at the tenacious young man standing next to him. 'You have my permission...' He turned sharply and began to walk up to the house. 'If you even so much as think about hurting her, I'll personally turn you into dragon feed and send you to Charlie.'

Teddy's eyes widened, but he nodded. He saw Fleur and Victoire standing at the window, watching them, and he headed into the house. He passed Victoire and tried to smile at her, but it ended up as more of a grimace.

Victoire glided down to where Bill stood morosely. 'Hi, Dad,' she said softly.

Bill enfolded her into a fierce embrace, picking her up off the ground. 'He'd better take care of you,' he said gruffly, smoothing the bright hair away from her face.

*****

Teddy stood next to Fleur watching Bill and Victoire in the spring afternoon, the sun creating halos around their heads. 'I want to marry Vic,' he blurted.

Fleur laughed. 'Tell me somezing I don't know.'

'May I...?'

Fleur gently kissed Teddy on his cheek. 'I don't zink zere is anyzing we could say to stop her.' She pointed her wand at the stove and sent the dinner floating gently to the table. 'You do know about her agreement wiz Bill?'

Teddy nodded. 'I can wait.'

*****

Victoire wound her heavy, thick hair into a loose chignon on the back of her head, and used her wand to magically pin it into place. 'Mum!' she called, as she clattered down the stairs, displaying the coltish grace of her father, rather than the silken elegance of her mother. 'Mum!' She skidded to a stop in the sitting room, and found her mother, curled in a squashy armchair, reading. 'I'm going to go see Grandmum.'

Fleur raised a silvery eyebrow. 'You are an adult, non? You do not have to tell me everyzing.'

'I suppose. But since I live here, I thought you might like to know I was going out.'

'Merci. Teddy sent an owl earlier.' Fleur indicated the letter propped against a vase on the mantle.

'Thanks, Mum.' Victoire grabbed the letter and stuffed it into her jeans pocket. 'I'll be home in a couple of hours.' She went to the back garden and Disapparated outside the back garden gate of the Burrow. She slipped through the gate and went into the uncharacteristically quiet house. She smiled to herself, as the strains of Celestina Warbeck wafted through the sitting room into the kitchen. She followed the sounds of Molly singing along to the music into the sitting room.

Molly sat in a rocking chair, swaying in time to the music, humming softly, knitting one of the endless Christmas jumpers that would find its way under the tree come December. 'Hi, Grandmum,' Victoire said.

'Why, hello, Vic,' Molly said warmly. 'To what do I owe this pleasure?'

'I can't come see my favorite grandmother?'

'Cheeky girl,' Molly chided, but with no real heat.

Victoire folded herself to the floor at Molly's feet. 'Grandmum, how did you know Granddad was the one?'

Molly set her knitting down in her lap. 'I knew before he did.'

'How...?'

A dreamy look came over Molly's face. 'Picture it... Hogwarts... nineteen sixty-seven... A boy with an obsession for Muggle contraptions, and a girl who could wipe the floor with her opponents in the dueling club. The last Hogsmeade visit of the year, the boy asks the girl to go with him. The girl is flattered, because people tend to forget her. She's got two older brothers in seventh year who are big, funny, and constantly in and out of trouble. And the girl is a little mousy, and short. And not what anyone would associate with the word "sylph-like".' Molly grinned at her granddaughter self deprecatingly. 'But surprisingly, the boy seems to enjoy her company, even though she's only a fifth year, and he's a sixth. So he asks if he can write to her over the summer, ignores her brothers' teasing, and even comes round for dinner a few times.' Molly picked up her knitting once more. 'The girl tries to imagine what could happen once she finishes school, and can picture what her life might be like with this tall, lanky boy, who keeps an odd collection of plugs in his pocket.' Molly used the edge of the jumper to dab the corners of her eyes. 'That girl and boy will be married fifty years next summer.'

'Wow.'

'What brought this on?'

'Teddy, he's going to propose soon.'

'I see.'

'Should I have dated other boys, Gran?'

'Did you want to?'

'Not really.'

'I'm going to give you a piece of advice, Vic. Think about the most difficult thing that could happen to you.'

'Right now?'

'Yes, right now.'

'Eating Teddy's cooking?' Victoire said with a sly grin.

Molly laughed. 'That's pretty bad, but not quite.' She sobered too rapidly for Victoire's comfort. 'Imagine losing a child far too young. Then try to imagine who is still standing next to you. If you can see Teddy doing that, then you have a better chance than most.'

'Is that what you did?'

Molly nodded, watching the stitches drop off her needles. 'It wasn't that hard to do, then. But it's a different time now.'

Victoire frowned at the shadows that appeared in her grandmother's eyes. 'I'm sorry, Gran... I didn't...'

Molly waved her off. 'Don't worry about it dear. It wasn't something I obsessed over then.' She cast a few more stitches. 'That's not quite the truth. I thought about it all the time, especially once all the children were old enough to join the Order against Voldemort. Just never thought I'd actually have to bury one of my own children.' She let out a shaky breath and put the knitting down in her lap once more. 'It's not something a parent should have to do,' she said so softly, Victoire had to strain to hear it.

*****

A/N: R.I.P Estelle Getty...