Marauders - Always - Part One

Morning! My Wife's Pregnant!

"Morning Lee - guess what? My wife's pregnant! .... Hey there, Brennan. Have ya heard? M'wife's pregnant! Oi how's it goin', Wood? Jones? How's life been? Guess what? Evans is pregnant!" James was glowing, ping-pong balling about the halls of the Ministry, humming, carrying a box of breakfast pastries and balancing three to-go coffees. He backed into Sean Buckner's office. "Mornin' Sean-ny!" he called joyfully, dropping one of the three coffee cups on the desk beside the stack of copying Sean was working on. The Ministry worker standing before him, whose work Sean was copying, looked perturbed by the interruption. James grinned at him, "Hullo , mornin'!"

Sean kept on working, glancing at the coffee without pause, desperate to get the cranky Ministry worker on his way. "What's on, Potter?" he mumbled.

James's grin only grew. "Sean, you're looking at a genuine bonafide daddy right now."

"What?" Sean looked up at James, stopping working despite the throat clearing of the worker behind James.

"That's right. You heard me. I'm going to be a father. My wife's pregnant!" James grinned. "Have a scone!"

"A scone?"

"A celebration scone!" James flipped open the lid of the box of pastries and offered it up.

Sean took one, a bewildered look on his face.

James turned to the man beside him. "Here ya are, sour puss, take one of these - they're the best scones on earth - from me to you as repayment for the ten extra seconds you'll have to stand there and glower impatiently at my mate here. Best copier in the Ministry, that's why you arseholes make the trek down here for'im!" James grinned and winked, shoved a scone into the man's hands, and nodded to Sean, "Bye Buckner!"

"Bye?" Sean asked more than answered, confused by the whirlwind that was James Potter.

James went across the hall and into Underhill's office.

Underhill was bent over his desk. He mumbled what sounded like good morning but was so distracted it only barely counted as the words. James dropped one of the two remaining cups on his desk and Underhill glanced at it, and when his eyes had risen from the pages spread upon it, James opened the box of pastries. Underhill stared at the pastries then looked up at James. "What in hell has gotten into you? You're... abnormally cheerful."

James grinned, "My wife is pregnant, sir."

"My condolences," Underhill said dryly.

James laughed, "Sir."

"Congratulations," he said more seriously. "What do scones have to do with it?"

"Celebration scones, Sir."

Underhill blinked rapidly, the words celebration scones sinking in, and he finally reached up took two scones and dropped them next to the coffee. James grinned and carried the rest over to his own desk, dropping them on a shelf behind him. He took one for himself and sat with his coffee at his desk chair, eyes sparkling. "We weren't supposed to one able to get pregnant Sir," James explained his excitement. "But my wife and I, we're in the business of miracle making."

Underhill nodded slowly, turning back to his paper work. "Then maybe you ought to work one on this bleeding case. He sighed and rubbed his eyes and sank into his chair. He grabbed one of the scones, took a bite of it, and looked at it in surprise. "These are good," he said, shaking it.

"Best scones in Britain," James nodded.

"Where'd you get them from?"

"My oven at home," James answered.

"You made these?" Underhill said, raising an eyebrow and ready to accuse James of lying.

"No, my mother did," James replied.