A/N: Oh my giddy aunt, I've actually written something! In fairness, I started this last summer but couldn't think how to finish it until now. But here it is! This was so much fun to write. I'm supposed to be writing a story for my Extended Project at the moment and it's really depressing, so it was nice to be able to write some light-hearted stuff for a change (even though I really didn't have time... oops). Anyway, please enjoy, and since my domain is usually romance and/or depressing things, I would love to know what you think!

This is jointly dedicated to my two very good (and one very old) friends. We went to an arcade together quite recently, and after the amount of time I spent on the 2p machines, they vowed never to let me in one again. But anyway.

Disclaimer: I am not JKRowling. As I discovered when I looked in my purse yesterday, I am poor. Thus, I am not her, nor any other fantastic, amazing author like her.

"Dad…"

"Daaaaad…"

"Dad, I'm so boooored…"

Harry Potter sighed for what felt like the umpteenth time that morning and put down his newspaper. It was the summer holidays.

"James, if you're bored, go and find something to do."

"But what? I have nothing to do. That's why I'm bored, Dad. God."

"Don't take that tone with me!"

James just gave him a look that Harry interpreted as meaning 'yeah, whatever you say'. Teenagers.

"Why not play some football? I'm sure there's a ball in the garage, and the garden's big enough."

"Dad, I'm not a muggle. I play Quidditch. Not football."

"Then go and practice."

"Can't. Mum confiscated my broom yesterday."

"Why?"

"Nothing for you to worry about."

Harry shook his head in despair. Give him a basilisk, he could kill it no problem. Dementors? Easy. Dark Lords? Child's play. Bored teenage boys? No way. He wished that Ginny had taken James with her, Lily and Albus to her mother's, but of course, his eldest son had decided he'd rather keep his father company and wait for the new satellite dish to be delivered and installed. Some bright spark at Sky Sports had had the idea to broadcast live Quidditch matches, and James wanted to test it out with an Anglo-American friendly that weekend.

As James continued to stare at his father, Harry had an idea. At the time, he thought it was wonderful, but before long he would live to regret it.

"James, pass me my laptop."

"Why?"

"Because I've had a brilliant idea."

=-]#~ ~#[-=

This was how, after a quick bit of Googling and a short drive to the coast, father and son came to be standing outside a rather packed arcade. Lights inside flashed, games beeped and buzzed, children spent their pocket money and harassed parents tried valiantly to win plush Hello Kitties and Angry Birds from the infamous crane machines.

James just stared at the psychedelic display before him.

"Dad, really? An arcade. A muggle arcade. What do you think I am, a kid?"

"Hey!" Harry used one hand to shade his eyes from the sun's glare. "Don't knock it 'til you've tried it."

James turned to his father with the most exasperated look in human history.

"Oh look!" Harry went on, pointing excitedly. "They've got giant banana crane machines! I remember when we went to Brighton pier; my uncle spent ages trying to win one of those for Dudley…" He trailed off, lost in recollection. That had been the summer Dudley had fallen into a rock pool and a crab had grabbed his-

"Hey, Dad?"

"James?"

"Would it… I mean, can I have some muggle money? You know, for the… arcade."

Harry smiled at his eldest son, and pulled out his wallet, grabbing a fiver. "Here. Change machines should be inside, otherwise ask whoever's in the little booth. There's always a little booth."

James took the money and ran off.

"Oi! What do you say?"

"Thanks Dad!" James yelled, hurtling off after a group of pretty teenage girls.

Harry shook his head. He doubted that the money would really be used on the machines, unless James wanted to impress the girls that way; more likely, he'd just find the prettiest and offer to buy her ice cream. Or something. God only knew what kids did these days, but at least James was out of his hair for a while.

Smiling, Harry pulled his shrunken newspaper from his pocket, inconspicuously resized it behind a dustbin, and went to buy a cup of tea.

=-]#~ ~#[-=

At around lunchtime, Harry left the little café he'd been ensconced in and went to find his son. There was a very pleasant smelling fish and chip shop just down the road, and he thought it might be nice if they got some chips and ate them down on the seafront. He was still wondering whether to get mushy peas or not when he found James, right at the back of the arcade, hunched over one of the two-penny coin pusher machines.

"Alright, James? Thought you were too old for arcades?"

James just gave him a dirty look, which only succeeded in widening his father's smirk, rather than quelling it.

"There's a pack of Spiderman tattoos right on the edge. I thought Albus might want them."

Harry took this to mean that the girls hadn't been interested, but didn't comment on it.

"Well, that's good of you. How much further do you think there is to go?"

"Just one more." James reached into his pocket for another coin, then, finding nothing, pulled one from his back pocket instead. He pushed it into the hole, and father and son watched as it fell down, flat, onto the shelf, pushing others down out of the way. James held his breath as the shelf edged slowly forward, until…

"Yes!" The pack of tattoos fell into the hole, along with several coppers and a Maoam stripe. James fished out his winnings, and turned to his father, who was standing open mouthed. "Did you see that? I'm just so… awesome…" He noticed that his father was still staring at the machine. "Hey, Dad, are you alright?"

Harry finally shut his mouth, and licked his lips before responding.

"James…"

"Yeah?"

"You… You just- You just put a Knut. In a 2p machine."

"Oh. Well, I was out of muggle change, so-"

"James. You just put a knut in a muggle 2p machine."

"Is that… Bad?" James took one look at the thunderous expression on his father's face, and decided that yes, this was definitely bad.

"Yes, James, this is definitely bad." Harry sighed. "We've got to get it out."

"Well, that's easy. Just 'accio' it or something."

"I can't. There's too many muggles around, not to mention CCTV. I'm not risking it."

"Um, we could… We could wait and come back tonight, once everyone's left?"

Harry shook his head, looking mournful. "Nope. Someone might see it in the meantime."

"Is it really that big a deal? Can't we just leave it in there?"

Harry turned to his son with an incredulous look. "James, this directly contravenes the Statue of Secrecy. We cannot just leave it in there; if someone finds out, I could lose my job!"

James grinned. "You sound just like Aunt Hermione. And anyway, who's gonna find out?"

Harry glared at him. "Someone always finds out." Rubbing a hand over his eyes, Harry made his decision.

"Right, there's nothing else for it." He handed his son a twenty-pound note. "James, go and change this into two-pence pieces."

James took the money, and looked up at his dad. "What are you going to do?"

Harry pushed up his shirt sleeves, spared a thought for his battered cod, and replied.

"I'm going to win it out."

=-]#~ ~#[-=

Two hours later, Harry had the Knut down as far as the bottom shelf, and was starting to get really, really hungry. And pissed off. He'd already had to send James off for more change; this machine just kept taking, and taking, and not really giving anything back. There'd been a brief moment of celebration twenty minutes before, when a box of candy sticks had fallen down, but those were long gone. James had found himself a bright orange bouncy ball, and was rhythmically bouncing it off the pillar opposite his seat on the floor.

Bounce.

Bounce.

Bounce.

"James."

Bounce.

Bounce.

"James."

Bounce.

"James!"

James caught the ball and looked at his father. "What?"

"Will you please stop bouncing that bloody ball!"

"Language, Dad. There's kids around. Besides, Quidditch try-outs. I need to practice my seeking skills."

"Yes, James, but not here. Not now."

"Why not?"

"Because," Harry, said, through gritted teeth, "you are driving me insane."

"Oh. Sorry."

For a few minutes there was blessed silence, but for the sounds of the machines and the other people in the arcade. Then-

"-Try to make me go to rehab, I said, no, no, no-"

"JAMES!"

James pulled one earphone out. "Oh, c'mon. Let me have a bit of fun."

"Do I look like I'm having fun?" Harry's voice was dangerously low.

"Well… no," James conceded, "not so much. Your point?"

"My point, James, is that this," he gestured at himself and the machine, "is all. Your. Fault. This is your mistake, and I am sorting it. Me. So the least, the least you can do, is not make me any more annoyed than I already am."

James swallowed. "So no Amy Winehouse?"

"No Amy Winehouse."

"What about Kanye West?"

"No Kanye West. No Coldplay, no Eminem, no AC/DC, no Lady Gaga, no nothing. Clear?"

"But you like Lady Gaga!"

"James…"

"Okay, okay, I'll turn it off." James shoved his iPod back in his pocket, and pulled his phone out instead. Harry went back to the task in hand.

After another half an hour or so, Harry felt he was finally getting somewhere. The Knut had moved a bit closer to the edge, and he thought one more pot of coins might just do it. It was at this point that the universe decided that it really hated Harry James Potter.

James started laughing.

Nothing much at first, just a few chuckles between taps at the screen of his smartphone. But when James finally let out a great snort of hilarity, Harry had, once more, reached the end of his tether.

"Okay, what's so funny?"

James started.

"Oh, um… Just Uncle Ron."

"Uncle Ron?" Harry was a bit taken aback. Hermione had made them all get phones a few years back, when the kids started getting older, but Ron had never really taken to his. "You're texting Uncle Ron?"

"Not exactly," James admitted. "I'm texting Uncle George, he keeps sending me stuff on his behalf."

"Oh. Okay."

The screen of his son's phone suddenly lit up, and Harry watched as James quickly read his new message, then broke out into fresh peals of laughter.

"What did he say?"

"Er…" James had the grace to look a bit sheepish. "Well, I may have told Uncle George what was going on… Y'know, with the Knut and stuff… And, um…"

"James, give me the phone."

At the dangerous tone of his father's voice, James obeyed. Harry took the phone and scrolled through the messages. He didn't need to read them to get the gist of the conversation.

"So… you lot have basically been having a good laugh at my expense?"

James bit his lip.

"You've got to admit, it is kind of funny…"

Harry sighed, returned the phone, and put his head in his hands. After counting to ten and back, he pulled the very last note from his wallet.

"James. I don't even care. I have, quite honestly, gone past caring. Just take this and go. Just leave. I don't care what you do, as long as it's legal. Just get out. I'm done. I am so, completely done…"

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, James took the proffered tenner and left, as fast as he could whilst still looking incredibly cool. Harry watched him go, then picked up a copper coin from the pile on top of the machine. He studied it for a moment, before placing it at the mouth of the slot.

What I wouldn't give for some Felix Felicis. Or some more patience.

He let it go.

=-]#~ ~#[-=

Four hours, fifty-one minutes, and thirty-seven pounds eighty-two pence after James had first put the stupid Knut into the 2p machine, Harry finally got it out. There was no jubilation. No fanfare. Just a massive great sense of relief.

Holding the offending bit of metal firmly in his grasp, Harry headed out of the arcade in search of his son. He found him on the beach, playing Frisbee with some muggle teens. When he caught sight of his dad, James high-fived his new friends and clambered back up the sea wall to where he stood.

"Soooo…" said James, stretching out the word in a way that only teenage boys can, "I'm guessing you got it out?"

Harry said nothing, just grimaced and dropped the Knut into his son's hand.

"Alright, so now what do we do?"

Harry shoved his hands into his pockets and watched a seagull fly overhead.

"You know what, James? We're going to have chips. Lots of lovely, greasy chips. Maybe a saveloy. Maybe some mushy peas, I still can't decide. And then we're going to eat them. And then we're going to drive home, and we are never going to speak of this day again. Ever."

"Okay. But didn't you use all your money in the arcade?"

Harry pulled out his muggle bank card and waved it in the air.

"Okay," James said again. "Cool. Chips sound good. I could go for chips."

It was as the father and son were just reaching the chippy that James suddenly turned around with an 'oh yeah' expression on his face.

"Oh, Dad, I forgot to say, Aunt Hermione texted me."

"Did she?"

"Yeah, Uncle Ron told her about the Knut and everything, and she said that you could probably have just used a vanishing charm on it, no-one would have noticed that."

"Did she now," Harry said, with a slow, sinking feeling. "Tell me, James, just when did Hermione text you?"

James opened the chip shop door and turned back before entering.

"Oh, I dunno, about three hours ago?"

Harry just stood there. Three hours. Three hours of his life, completely wasted.

He laughed.

Bloody kids.

As Harry walked into the shop, finally about to get his hands on some seaside food, he still wasn't sure whether or not to get mushy peas. But he was sure of one thing.

He was never, ever, ever, taking any of his kids to a muggle arcade again.