Questions and Answers

Maya's mother examined the teenage boy standing in front of her, bearing a slightly hopeful expression on his face. 'Why do you want to come and work here?' she asked, perplexed, still unable to fathom why on earth Harry Potter's son would want to spend his Friday evenings cleaning up after other people.

'Francesca,' murmured her husband warningly. Hugh nudged Francesca with an elbow and gestured with his chin toward Maya, lurking in the doorway. 'You might as well come out, Miss Nosy Parker,' he chuckled. 'All right,' he agreed. 'Every Friday evening that the Falcons are playing in Falmouth until the end of the season,' he told James. 'You'll help with the washing up after the crowd leaves for the game, help serve dinners, and scrub the WCs.' Hugh waited, scrutinizing James' face for any sign of disgust or distaste.

James, for his part, merely nodded. 'Yes, sir,' he said.

'Then you'll start tomorrow. Three o'clock. The players that live here like to have a light meal before the game. And if you can keep from falling all over yourself, you can help with that, as well,' Hugh decided.

James' head bobbed a little. 'Okay.'

Francesca's head shook slowly. 'I still don't quite understand,' she persisted. 'Why?'

'Mum!' Maya whispered, scandalized.

James gave Maya's hand a reassuring squeeze and grinned at her. 'I was taught I had to earn what I had,' he said to Maya's mother. 'I've been changing the sheets on my bed since I started primary school. I can do laundry, if I have to. And I'm not very good at cooking, but I'm not bad at it. My parents wanted to make sure I knew how to at least take care of myself if the need ever came up.

'Like I've told Maya, my mum and dad didn't have much when they were growing up. And neither of them wanted my brother, sister, or me to be some privileged git who thought the world owed us something because of an accident of birth.' He took a deep breath, having delivered the previous statement in a rush, without pausing. 'If you'll excuse me, I'm expected at home soon.' He turned to the pub's large fireplace, pulling out a small pouch that he upended over his hand. James threw the Floo powder into the flames and with a final cheeky grin at Maya, stepped into the fire and vanished in a swirl of bright emerald flames.

Ginny waited on the other side, automatically reaching out and grabbing the sleeve of James' shirt before he could trip over his feet and fall nose-first on the hearth. 'What did they say?' she asked.

James slapped at the soot on his jeans. 'Three tomorrow afternoon,' he told her.

'How did Maya's mother take the proposal?'

James shrugged. 'She's all right, I suppose. Still doesn't understand why someone of my background would want to spend my summer hols doing manual labor.'

'Would you like your dad or me to go chat with her?' Ginny held out a clean handkerchief. 'Spit,' she commanded. James obediently spat into the snowy folds and immediately shrank away when Ginny made to scrub a spot off his nose. 'Oh, honestly,' Ginny muttered, rubbing the damp fabric over James' nose. 'It's your spit, you know.'

'Doesn't make it any less disgusting.' James managed to extricate himself from his mother's grasp. 'And no, I don't want you or Dad running off to talk to Mrs. Hytner, all right? That's the last thing I need - for you or Dad to go fighting my battles. No thank you.' He shuddered dramatically.

'Oh, all right.' Ginny aimed a light swat at him. 'And as much as I hate to admit it, you're right,' she sighed, then checked her watch. 'All right, Lily's class in the village will end at four. Could you pick her up for me? Your dad ought to be home by five.' Ginny slung her bag over her shoulder and glanced upward. 'And could you try to coax Al from his bedroom this afternoon? I don't think he's left but for meals and baths since... Well...' She blushed and cleared her throat.

'I'll...' James rubbed the back of his neck. 'I'll try,' he muttered. He waited until Ginny was gone, then stomped up the stairs to Al's closed bedroom door. 'Al, come on!' he yelled. When Al's door didn't open, James raised a clenched fist and began to pound on the thick wood. 'Damn it, Albus, open the bloody door!' It opened a mere crack and one bright green eye peered through the miniscule opening.

'You bellowed?'

'Are you planning on coming out by the time the booklists come out? You've spent three weeks holed up in there. Mum's going to have to scour your room when we go back to school. Bloody hell, Al, if you want Mum and Dad to start thinking that you are old enough to do something colossally stupid, like play for England before you're even old enough for an Apparition license, then start acting like it instead of an effing baby.' James whirled around and stalked into his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

XxXxXxX

Al pushed the food around his plate, shoving his peas into the mound of mashed potatoes, then smearing the resultant mess into the pool of congealing gravy. He swallowed heavily and set his fork down. 'I'm sorry,' he murmured into his untouched food, glancing at Harry from the corner of his eye. 'May I be excused?' he said, in a louder voice, directing his inquiry toward Ginny. She nodded and Al slid from his chair.

James quickly shoveled the rest of his dinner into his mouth. 'May I be excused as well?' he panted.

'You don't want pudding?' Harry blurted.

'Erm... not tonight...' James darted up the stairs and nearly careened into Al, coming out of the bathroom. 'Nice,' he drawled.

'What was?' Al retorted.

'That show you put on for Mum and Dad. That apology. You didn't mean it. I know it. You know it. All you did was tell them what they wanted to hear.'

Al gazed up at James. 'Me? What about you? What about you going on and on about wanting to work in the shop?' He leaned closer to James. 'We both know you want to go into the shop because you don't have the stones to do anything else. You're too thick to even work for the Prophet. You only wish you had the talent I have in my - '

James' eyes widened, and he fisted his hands into Al's shirt, hauling his younger brother into his bedroom, kicking the door shut and nearly slamming him into it. 'Take it back!' he hissed. 'Take it back, you effing tosser!'

'I won't! Because you know it's true! You're pathetic.'

'I'm not pathetic!' James growled. He pulled one hand back and nearly punched Al square in the mouth.

'What are you going to do, eh? Punch me? Do it, and when they ask, I'll tell them you used me for a punching bag.'

'You must be off your tits,' James scoffed. 'They'll never believe that.'

'They will. You know how Dad feels about that... And you know how it'll look,' Al said triumphantly. 'After what I did just now, they're going to give me at least one free pass, no?'

James took a step back, chest heaving. 'Get out,' he said evenly. 'Just get out...' He waited until Al left the room, then sank to the edge of his bed, passing a shaking hand over his eyes, startled by how close he had been to punching his own brother. 'Why isn't he in Slytherin?' James murmured.

XxXxXxX

James slid a stack of dirty plates into the hot, sudsy water, but before he could begin scrubbing any of them, Maya shoved a pair of bright yellow washing up gloves in his hand. 'You might want to use those,' she told him.

James wrinkled his nose in distaste. 'I don't think I'll need those,' he said scornfully. 'I've done the washing up before.'

'With water that hot?'

'How hot can it be?' James dipped a cautious finger into the dishwater, then yanked it back, poking it into his mouth for a moment. 'Bloody hell,' he mumbled around his finger. 'What are you trying to do? Boil the dishes?'

'Sanitary regulations.' Maya grinned. 'But if you can't handle it, you can dry them...'

James mouth thinned and he shoved his hands into the gloves. 'Not a damn word,' he growled warningly. 'To anybody.' He snatched the dish cloth from Maya's hand and plunged his gloved hands into the steaming water, and began to scrub the plain, white plates. Maya mouth twisted in a valiant attempt to suppress the smile, but it tugged at the corners of her mouth. She picked up a dish towel from a pile balanced on the kitchen table, and carefully dried the growing stack of plates James left on the drainer.

The Falmouth game played softly on the wireless sitting on a shelf over their heads. Maya glanced at James from time to time, noting the tightness around his mouth. 'Things going all right at the shop?' she asked, sliding a plate onto a stack of clean ones.

James' eyes widened briefly, shaking off the reverie he'd sunk into from the hypnotic rhythm of washing the plates. 'Yeah, fine.'

'Hmmm.' Maya added another plate to the stack and reached for another. 'You just look a bit tired is all.'

James tried to smile at her, but it came off as a pained grimace. 'Just didn't sleep very well last night.'

'Why?' Maya didn't look at him, but kept her eyes locked on the plate in her hands.

James sighed and rested his hands on the edge of the sink. 'Nothing,' he finally muttered. 'Nothing.' He knew Maya would say anything just to make him feel better, and he couldn't help but wonder if Al was right about him.

XxXxXxX

Harry blinked blearily at the edge of his pillowcase. He smiled, waiting for Ginny's arm to snake over his chest and slip into his boxers.

And waited.

And waited.

He frowned, rolling over, and was confronted by the sight of Ginny's empty pillow. 'Gin?' he called softly, hoping she was merely in the bathroom. There was no reply, and he sat up, pushing his glasses on his nose. No light spilled from under the crack of the bathroom door. Harry looked hopefully around the room, peering through the early morning gloom for some hint as to where she was. Groaning, he threw back the quilt and slid out of bed, padding to the door. He crept down the stairs, throwing a cautious look over his shoulder at the children's bedrooms. All their doors were shut, and he couldn't hear any of them stirring. In fact, this morning, Harry was perfectly happy to allow them to sleep as late as they wanted. Ever since that excruciatingly mortifying night when James had alerted him to the fact he, Al, Lily, and Scorpius had overheard Ginny's rather vocal appreciation of his attentions, Harry had been a bit wary of initiating lovemaking while the children were home.

'Gin?'

He rounded the bottom of the staircase. The office door was slightly ajar, which was more than a little odd, since they normally closed it when they went to bed. 'Gin?'

'Harry, will you come in here a moment?' Ginny's quiet voice carried through the small gap.

Mystified, Harry peeked through the opening and felt his jaw drop. Ginny perched on the edge of his desk, clad in an old Gryffindor Quidditch t-shirt. It was one of his, bought on impulse just after Al had been born. The scarlet hue was faded, and the rampant lion was now a muddy yellow. The hem was barely mid-thigh and the material was nearly threadbare. And she looked so much better in it than he did. 'Oh...'

'Happy fortieth,' she purred, like she had in his schoolboy fantasies.

'Yeah... thanks...' Harry's breath caught in his throat. She smiled at him, her head tilted to one side. 'Nice shirt,' he said lamely, sidling into the room, closing the door behind him.

'I couldn't think what to get you,' Ginny continued, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

Harry took a few steps closer. 'You didn't have to get me anything.' He coughed softly, trying to unobtrusively adjust the constricting boxers that had been adequate only moments before.

'I didn't know what would be useful. I mean, what does one get a man who doesn't want for material things? Who keeps clothing for ages,' Ginny added ruefully, fingering the frayed collar of the t-shirt. 'Whose only indulgence is a very fast, and very good broom, but that's been taken care of in the last year.' She slid off the desk and closed the gap between the two of them, tugging the t-shirt over her head, letting it fall carelessly behind her.

Harry's mouth went dry. 'But the children...' he rasped.

'Charmed the office,' Ginny assured him. 'We could play Quidditch in here, and they'd never hear a sound.'

'Brilliant.' Harry's own t-shirt joined the one Ginny had been wearing, followed quickly by the soft flannel boxers. His lips met Ginny's, then trailed down the side of her neck, making her shiver. She loved the feel of his stubble against the tender skin behind her ear. Harry never could understand why she loved it so. He'd once rubbed the inside of his wrist over his face and winced at the chafing sensation. She moaned in pleasure as it abraded her skin.

They dropped to the floor and Ginny gently pushed Harry back, straddling his hips. 'Let me.' She shifted, making a few adjustments, then Harry's breath hissed between clenched teeth. Ginny's fingers laced through his, and she slowly leaned forward, her hair falling around them. Her mouth hovered over his, and she murmured, 'Happy birthday...'

XxXxXxX

'You are frightfully prepared,' Harry chuckled, reaching for his cup of tea.

Ginny stretched, arching a little, then pried the cup from his hand, and taking a sip. 'It helps.'

'When did you put all this in there?' He gestured with his free hand toward the office, then swept over the pajamas they both wore.

'Before you woke up,' she replied. 'I thought we'd make it a leisurely day today. Especially with that party Ron and Hermione seem to feel you need tonight.' Ginny picked up a piece of toast and nibbled the edges. 'And I thought I'd let the kids sleep for a while longer. Until they wake up...'

'With James and Al, that could be nearly noon,' Harry muttered.

'Lily's good until at least nine,' Ginny added, offering the toast to Harry, while she glanced at the small clock on the mantle. 'Couple of hours more to ourselves.'

'Devious,' Harry murmured. 'But I like it.'

'So how does it feel?' Ginny asked. 'Be specific so I know what to expect next year.'

Harry's head fell back against the arm of the sofa. 'I'm forty,' he breathed. 'Forty,' he repeated. 'I am officially twice as old as my parents were when I was born. It takes longer to recover from an all-nighter with the Aurors, and I can still feel it for days after. I can't eat Chocolate Frogs with impunity any more. Makes me queasy if I eat too many. I found more grey hair when I got my last haircut. And yet... I don't feel... I don't feel like I'm any older than I was the day I married you.' He trailed his fingers down the side of Ginny's neck. 'And grateful to be here, on this comfortable sofa, in my Merlin-knows-how-old pajamas, with our children asleep upstairs, and you in my arms, dreading the completely insane amount of people that will be here in twelve hours. Even though Ron and Hermione will be doing all the work with the food and setting things up.' He lifted his head and brushed a kiss over the edge of Ginny's ear. 'I love you.'

'I love you, too.'

XxXxXxX

Ginny shook her head at the small mob gathered in her back garden. Harry had insisted that only family would be invited to the event marking his fortieth year on this earth. There were over forty people there that she could count. Of course, most of them were actually related to the Weasleys, but the rest of the guests had been all but adopted over the years - McGonagall, Hagrid, Andromeda, Teddy, Neville, Hannah, and now Eric. Luna, Rolf, Lorcan, and Lysander. Harry's first supervisor with the Aurors, Peter, and his wife, Marianne. Dudley, Aaron, and Sarah. Despite Harry's protestations that he didn't particularly need or want for anything, a small pile of gifts took up one end of a table. Ginny didn't need the gift of Sight to know some held coveted classic films that Harry adored, but never remembered to purchase them for himself. Chocolate from Honeydukes or Federers' in Switzerland, which was regarded as the finest chocolatier in the wizarding world. Books, Quidditch tickets. Sometimes jumpers or shirts, as Harry could be quite indifferent about his wardrobe, and often didn't notice things like fraying cuffs and collars until they had been thrown out.

The party was a casual affair. Ron had outdone himself with the food he had set up as a buffet. Knots of giggling children were scattered around the garden. Adults lounged in clusters at small tables or day loungers. James and Maya had managed to string fairy lights through the lower branches of the trees that ringed the garden, and their light cast a soft glow over the party. Harry himself had claimed a chair at a table with Neville and Ron, while Dudley and Aaron sat at the table next to theirs. The five men were deeply engrossed in a conversation. Judging by the earnest expressions on Neville, Aaron, and Dudley's faces and the slightly smug ones on Ron and Harry's, Ginny could only surmise it centered on the joys of parenting toddlers. A smile curved Ginny's mouth at the aura of content Harry radiated.

Hermione's arm slipped around her waist. 'Planning on joining the party sometime soon?'

'Yeah, just watching.'

'Looks happy doesn't he?'

Ginny nodded. 'He does.' She wound an arm around Hermione's waist. 'Thank you for all this. It's the perfect gift for him.'

Harry rose to his feet, face lighting up in a wide smile, greeting the man who loped through the garden gate. Michael Carter tossed a small package on the table with the rest and pounded Harry on the back. 'Hiya, kid!'

Harry flicked his wand at a table and a bottle of beer landed in his outstretched hand. He handed it to Carter and then conjured a chair for him. 'Get something to eat,' he urged.

Carter frowned at the bottle. 'Are ya tryin' to kill me, kid?' Harry chuckled, long used to the older man's penchant for beer served at slightly more than frigid temperatures, and tapped the bottle with his wand. Frost immediately fuzzed the bottle, and Carter took a long pull, lowering the bottle with a sigh. 'Just got off that damn Portkey. Need a drink first. Damn things make me dizzy.' He lowered himself into the chair.

'How are Benjamin and Lavinia?' Harry asked with genuine interest.

'Good. April's tryin' to sweet-talk Ben into bringin' her and the kids over here next summer to meet Molly and Arthur.'

'How's that working out for her?'

Carter contemplated the bottle for a moment. 'Ya know how stubborn you are?'

'Yeah...'

'Multiply that by about five, and ya got Ben. But April's a patient sort. She'll wear him down.' Carter chuckled sympathetically. He reached into the pocket of his blazer for a small package with a card. 'This one's just for the guys.' He slid it across the table to Harry.

Harry opened the card curiously, an eyebrow sweeping up at the picture. A Jolly Roger waved merrily on the front, and when he opened it, the card growled, 'Arrrrrrggghhhh!' A small, black eye patch slid into his palm. 'Erm...'

'If anyone was meant to be a pirate, it's you, kid,' Carter intoned. 'Ya got the scars, and the interestin' back story. All ya need now is some treasure to find.'

Harry carefully settled the eye patch over one eye and peered at Ron. 'Does it suit me?'

'Is this an all-roosters party, or can a couple of hens join?' Ginny asked, a plate of food balanced in each hand. She set one in front of Harry. 'Eat that, or you'll be useless tomorrow.' She tipped Harry's face up with a finger. 'My, that's fetching.'

'Is it?'

'Mmmm. I've got the second part of your birthday present hidden somewhere. Maybe you can wear that while you look for it.'

'Does it resemble the first part?' Harry asked hopefully, somehow managing to leer at the same time.

'Oh, it does,' Ginny assured him, leaning down for a kiss.

Ron gagged. 'Do you have to do that in front of me?' he asked.

'We are married,' Ginny reminded him tartly, settling on Harry's lap.

Harry nuzzled the back of Ginny's neck. 'Where do you think James, Al, and Lily came from?'

Ron's face flushed. 'I like to think you found them under a flutterby bush.'

'Well, it's been... How long has it been since he walked in on the two of you?' Hermione asked Ginny.

'Oh. Lily's just turned twelve, so almost thirteen years,' Ginny mused.

'I'd almost forgotten that,' Ron muttered.

Aaron leaned forward. 'I sense a highly entertaining story.'

'Once upon a time,' Harry began.

'We had two toddlers and were desperate for a weekend alone,' Ginny finished, eyes twinkling merrily.

XxXxXxX

Scorpius trudged into the kitchen of Narcissa's villa. 'Is dinner going to be soon? I'm starved.'

Narcissa nodded toward the tray on the scrubbed wooden table, laden with food. 'I thought we'd eat on the terrace tonight. It's just the two of us.'

'Where's Mother?'

'She and your father are out.'

Scorpius' face scrunched in distaste. 'Really?' He picked up the tray and staggered toward the door. 'Why?'

Narcissa followed with a basket of bread. 'Because they want see if there's anything to salvage.'

'Things were fine before,' Scorpius argued.

Narcissa set the basket on the table on the terrace. 'Self-absorption is such a hallmark of the young,' she said lightly. 'But both of your parents are mature enough to understand that even if they were to end their marriage, it would be best to do so on amicable terms.'

'I guess.' Scorpius dropped into one of the chair and arranged stalks of asparagus on his plate. 'You're not going to try and talk me into some sort of reconciliation, are you?' he asked suspiciously.

'Me? No.' Narcissa slid a piece of fish onto Scorpius' plate. 'I would never dream of asking you to do something you so obviously do not wish to do.'

'Thank you.'

Narcissa spooned a delicate lemon sauce over Scorpius' fish. 'Besides, you're too much like your father for me to insist you do anything of the sort.'

Scorpius fork clattered nervelessly to his plate, mouth working like a landed fish. 'What?' he spluttered.

Calmly, Narcissa added fish to her own plate and smiled gently at Scorpius. 'You are determined to view the world in stark hues of black and white. Just as he did. Eventually, you'll learn to see the shades of grey that exist. I just hope it's sometime before your fortieth birthday.' She began to eat her meal, and the only sound was of her cutlery scraping against the plate.

Scorpius suddenly pushed his plate aside and stood. 'I don't believe I'm hungry just now,' he announced stiffly. His face crumpled in dismay, and the formal mask vanished. 'I can't believe you just compared me to him!' he almost shouted, before stalking into the villa.

Narcissa bit her lip, trying to stifle the soft laugh. 'As if I needed any more evidence.'

XxXxXxX

Draco settled into the seat, a petulant expression on his face. 'Why did you want to come here?'

'Because it's fun,' Daphne sighed.

'But there are Muggles everywhere!'

Daphne snorted. 'Didn't seem to be an issue when we went to Piccadilly,' she said pointedly. 'And shush. Do you want everyone to hear you?'

Draco's eyes darted around the rapidly filling hall. 'What is it exactly?'

'Ballet.'

'And...?'

'And they dance.'

'Just dance?' Draco's brows drew together. 'Nothing else?'

'Just dancing.'

'How am I supposed to know what's going on?' Draco complained.

Daphne thrust a program toward Draco. 'There's a synopsis in there,' she said through gritted teeth. Draco took the program, and instantly began to flip through it, studiously avoiding Daphne's gaze. 'You'll be able to follow it quite well,' she told him, her tone softening. 'And at the very least, just sit back and watch. They'll tell the story.'

Presently, the lights dimmed and the curtain parted, revealing a lone dancer on the stage. Draco sighed and prepared to try and do anything to keep himself awake. He didn't think he was going to enjoy the performance nearly as much as Daphne believed. He didn't want to disappoint her, either.

His boredom lasted until a ballerina dressed in white, crowned with a bandeau of feathers, came onstage. Desperate longing broadcast from every cell of her body, followed by bittersweet hope, then fear when her tormentor soon arrived. It made his breath catch in his throat, and he leaned forward slightly, engrossed in the spectacle before him.

Daphne had greeted the beginning of the performance with more than a little apprehension that Draco would want to leave during the intermission. She alternated between watching the dancers and watching Draco. The second Odette made her entrance, his entire demeanor changed. Many times, his mouth formed a perfect "O" of awe. What was even more fascinating, he seemed completely unaware of his reactions, even gasping when Siegfried and Odette flung themselves into the lake, ending their lives. After the house lights arose, he looked away from Daphne for several long moments, while he collected himself. Draco cleared his throat, then reached for her hand. 'Let's go, shall we?'

Daphne wound her wrap around her shoulders. 'Did you like it?'

Draco hesitated for a moment. 'Yes. I did.' He cupped Daphne's elbow in one hand, ushering her to the lobby. 'Could we see another one?'

'I think so.'

'That would be nice.' Draco paused before they joined the throng outside the theatre. 'I've really liked doing this... spending the time with you.'

'So have I.'

XxXxXxX

Harry trudged to his office Monday morning, yawning. The idea of a nice holiday sounded more than appealing. Perhaps after the children returned to school, he and Ginny could go somewhere for a week or so. Get out of England and find a nice hotel with room service and extraordinarily fluffy towels, and not think about their jobs, their children, or any of their various responsibilities.

The sight of a piece of parchment fixed to his door made him stop.

-The beatings will continue until morale improves, proclaimed the sign. A small, neatly drawn Jolly Roger fluttered underneath. It was written in Hermione's round hand. Harry moved to remove it, but stopped. He shrugged and left it on the door. As tense as things had been since Dudley was stabbed, they could all use a laugh. That was an important lesson learned that he never forgot. Nor would he.

XxXxXxX

A/N: A few things...

First, the dialogue for Ginny's, erm... present to Harry is inspired by the dialogue in Deathly Hallows, pg. 115-116, Scholastic paperback edition.

Second, I have to give credit to one of my former students for Carter's description of Harry as a pirate. That was all Alex.

Third, Daphne and Draco saw Swan Lake.

And lastly for my non-British readers... "off [one's] tits" means high.