Jily oneshots

The Matchmaker

by sunaprincess7

"I've met a girl."

James Potter looked up at his son from his dinner plate, mouth half full of the spaghetti Bolognese he had spent the afternoon preparing and was currently trying not to splatter all over the table because he didn't plan on cleaning the kitchen for a second time that day.

"What happened to Bonnie?" Sirius asked uninterestedly from next to James, picking at his food. "You two seemed so in love it was enough to make me vomit. Not enough merlot," he added briefly to James, who knew that some form of complaint was coming.

"Nothing has happened to Ginny," Harry responded dryly, "not a girl for me. One for him," he added, jerking his head towards James.

"Who? Me?" James asked, not really paying Harry any attention, "and the recipe said a glass," he added to Sirius, ignoring the smirk that was forming on Remus's face.

"The recipe is bollocks. And you used rosemary instead of thyme," Sirius replied distastefully, peering into the bowl with narrowed eyes and picking through the strands of pasta with his fork.

"It's a Jamie Oliver one. It says rosemary, not thyme," James answered firmly, getting up to find the book, determined to prove his point and wondering why he bothered trying to feed anyone other than the one human in the room he was responsible for. "And you said you weren't going to criticise my cooking anymore."

"That was before I knew you were going to start fucking with a two-hundred-year-old recipe."

"Dad!" Harry hissed, trying to glare at his father who was rifling through the 'Oliver's Twist' recipe book. James thrust the book under Sirius's nose, tapping triumphantly at the page.

"I'd advise bringing this up when Sirius isn't here, Harry" Remus suggested wryly from the other end of the table. "And when Bolognese is not involved."

"Why are you trying to set him up with a eighteen-year-old, anyways?" Sirius asked, finally turning his attention back to Harry, grabbing some more garlic bread and ignoring James's insistent tapping at the book.

"She's not eighteen, she's your age," Harry replied, successfully finding James's eyes. "I think you'd really like her."

"Thank you, as always, for your concern, Harry but I don't need you to find me a girl," James said with a small smile, sitting down again, "have some salad too." He watched as his son reached for the salad bowl, before settling back to his own meal. Harry's concern with his love life reared its head at least once a year but usually James was able to avert any serious discussion of the subject matter by bringing up rugby or suggesting another Mario Kart tournament.

"Yes, you do! You're terrible with women. I can't remember you ever going on a date," Harry hit back, ladling a huge amount of salad onto his plate without looking and throwing down the tongs carelessly.

"He has a point, Prongs," Sirius agreed, inspecting Jamie Oliver's book with a grimace. "This is bollocks. Why didn't you use Carluccio's recipe?"

"Because you stole my book and still haven't given it back!" James gritted out, grabbing the book out of Sirius's hands.

"Harry, your father doesn't need a girlfriend because he has already has a wife to bicker with," Remus interjected smartly as Sirius and James glared at him in sync.

"I've noticed that," Harry smirked, ignoring his father's glare. "Seriously, Dad, she's exactly your type. She's smart and witty and…and she could…keep up with you," he finished sincerely. "Just give it a chance."

"Out of curiosity, where exactly are you meeting women in their thirties, Harry?" Remus queried bemusedly.

"She's a friend of Mrs Weasley's," Harry replied, a little indignantly, still primarily talking to James. "I've met her a couple of times at the Burrow. She's a librarian."