Defense

{4}

Harry was grading papers in his office when James came through the door, holding a recognizable sheet of paper in his hands. It was late, Monday afternoon, and dinner was to be soon.

"My father forgot to sign this, Professor, would you mind?"

"Bloody smart-arse, give it here," Harry muttered, taking the sheet from his third-year, hiding his grin when he discovered what it was. "Oh," Harry pretended to let his face fall, "This must be signed by a parent or guardian. I am afraid since he forgot, you shall not be attending Hogsmeade."

"Dad," James whined causing his father to laugh joyously, "Just sign it!"

"Manners?"

"Please?" The boy returned, exhausted at his father's antics.

Scribbling across the sheet with hand-writing he wouldn't have to try to read, Harry handed back the parchment to his son with a question, "How did I not remember to sign it at all this summer?"

"No idea," James said, "Must have been your sudden overhaul of the curriculum."

"That was the ministry, not me, James."

"Or was it attempting to impress the parents of the first-years?"

"What are you on about?" Harry questioned his son guardedly, leaning back in his chair as James sat on the edge of his desk.

"There's a rumor--"

"James..." The professor in him came out in that warning word.

"That you had drinks with Malfoy Senior."

"That sounds odd, we used to call Scoprius' grandfather that, not Malfoy himself."

James made an odd face at him, wondering exactly why his father had so casually interrupted.

"It was true then? That you're getting on with Malfoy? I think it's great and all, equality or what have you, but why didn't you tell me? We had lunch yesterday," James Potter demanded.

"You're only thirteen, you know that, yes?" Harry asked him pleasantly, not at all bothered by the accusing tone his son took.

"Yeah, Dad, but--"

"Who I associate with isn't your business just yet, James. Besides, we hated one-another for years, we only just became friends a few nights ago because I sat down next to the prat."

James looked quite defeated as he screwed his courage to the sticking place.

"I guess even though we live in the same building, I don't see you that often. I just want to know if you're okay, I reckon. I don't really remember mum much, but I know you miss her," James tapered off as he hopped from the desk looking all the frightened thirteen years of age he should.

"Hey," Harry said and stood up quickly, taking the boy in his arms and holding him close,"Don't you worry over me. I already have Hagrid and Neville doing it. I just need you to be my son."

"Sure, Dad," he replied with an equally tight embrace for his father.

"Now, go back to whatever it is you were doing and send Rose my love."

"Ew, Dad, no."

"Go," Harry commanded, watching James nearly sprint from the room laughing.

"Kids," he muttered, turning back to his papers and settling in to grade them without interruption.

-

Potter,

It seems that I enjoyed our little chat Saturday night, and I am abashedly hoping that you shall concede to another such occurrence. Scorp tells me that he very much enjoys your instruction, by the way.