Is that tea? Please tell me that's tea.

I hate these things.

Finchy, are you home? I need a new copy of the Bronze file, if you have one handy?

Hey, boobear. Your Papa told me you might be tucked away here with a book.

Hullo there, boobear. You caught me just before I head off to work.

Would you like some tea?

Baby. What are you doing out here?

Charlie, you've got to know something about this virus.

Hey, boobear. I brought you some tea. Why are you hiding out here?

It's not ten yet.

You're sure it's not too cold out here for them?

My father died when he was twenty-one. I’ve lived nearly a third of a life longer than his.

He only knew me as an infant, really. I know now how much personality an 18 month old can have, but still. He didn’t see me start to read, or start to run, or start to fly. We never talked in full sentences. He barely knew who I was and couldn’t have known who I was going to be.

I can’t imagine it. I can’t imagine not knowing Lily and Scorpius and Immy. I can’t imagine not watching them grow up, not seeing them become older children, then teenagers, then adults.

When I look at myself today, I see him. Not the James in the photographs. I look older. More tired. But still, I’m him. With his eyes. Not Mum’s.

His shoulders are more stooped than mine. His hips narrower. His jaw stronger.

This is what my father would have looked like when I started Hogwarts.

I wish I could have known him.

What would he think of me now? He’d love the children, I think. All three of them. But I don’t think he’d like whatever it is between Severus and I. Although I’m fairly certain I’d enjoy appalling him. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do to your parents? God only know how Lily’s going to rebel. I suspect she’ll take Scorpius right down that primrose path with her. Here’s hoping Immy doesn’t follow.

If I close my eyes and focus, I can see a glimpse of Mum holding me. Rocking me beside a leaded glass window, sunlight streaming over us. Her hair shines so red, just like my Lily’s, and when she looks up--well. She looks so happy.

So young.

Fuck you, Tom Riddle, for taking them away from me.

I wish I could kill you again.

Ron. Charlie.

Vega came for me--are the kids okay?

Don't look so tense. He'll be fine with them.

Hey. Thought you might like some tea.

Immy finally went down?

Justin,

I think we might have a possible situation. I swear it wasn't my fault--I don't know what the hell happened. I was just walking down Whitehall after my meeting with the Wales Office, and well, Lord Tebbit passed by me. (Don't purse your mouth that way--yes, I've tried to avoid him since he called me a wholemeal sandal-wearing, yoghurt knitting Clegg flunkie at Bercow's last reception.)

Anyway. I was pleasant. I really was. All I said was Good morning, Lord Tebbit, and he just nodded and grunted a bit, and then...well.

My scarf whipped up and tried to go after him. (Yes. My scarf.) Fortunately he'd passed by, so it didn't actually reach him, and I managed to force it back down, but I'm quite certain I looked quite the utter madman standing in front of Her Majesty's Treasury fighting with a black wool scarf.  (Cable was coming down the steps and asked me if I was all right. I told him it must have been the wind. Justin. There was no wind. He just gave me A Look. The way he gossips, the whole party will have decided I've lost my mind by dinner.)

God.

It took me ten minutes to get my scarf calmed down. I thought for a moment it was going to escape and follow Lord Tebbit to the Cabinet Office or Downing Street or wherever he was off to, and really, how the bloody hell would I be able to explain that? Terribly sorry, Prime Minister, Deputy Prime Minister, but that scarf that sent Baron Tebbit to hospital just happens to be mine...

Well, all right, at least Nick might be amused. Slightly.

Find out what's going on, will you?  Has something happened, or is it just me? And if it's just me, do you think we might have someone from the Aurors take a look at my scarf? It's still a bit twitchy. I don't think it's hexed--it's certainly behaving for me--but still. Best to check it out, I suppose. I'll be back by three at the latest, scarf in hand, or I can stop by the Ministry.

I've got lunch with Scrimgeour in five minutes at Wiltons. Maybe I'll be lucky enough that the damned thing'll jump on him?

Harry

Hey.

May I come in?

I fed Imogen and put her down. Did you get Lily and Scorpius bathed?

It's terribly quiet in here.