For the Mother and Son Competition.


Ginny folds her arms over her chest, her lips pursing as her youngest son enters the room. She doesn't want to be suspicious of Albus, but he has that look. The same sheepish look the twins had always worn when faced with their mother. "What is it, Albus?" she asks.

Albus wrings his hands together, looking nervously down at his feet. "You know how we don't always see eye to eye on things?"

Ginny's brows raise, and she softens slightly, curious now. "Yes," she says.

She waits for Albus to continue, but he stays silent.

"You've found something that we disagree on," she guesses.

After what feels like a strained eternity, Albus nods. "You won't get mad, right, Mum?"

She pulls her son closer, wrapping him in a warm embrace. "Of course I won't, silly," she laughs. "Just because you disagree with someone doesn't mean you have to stop loving them."

The relief that washes over Albus is obvious. He relaxes and pulls out of her grip. "Good. Because you're scary when you and Uncle Ron don't get along."

"So, what is it?" she prompts. "The thing we don't agree on?"

"I don't like the Harpies."

"Oh."

She supposes that it isn't the worst thing he could tell her, but she can't help but to take it personally.

Albus pats her hand. "Don't worry, Mum," he assures her quickly. "You're still my favorite Chaser. I've just found a team that I like more."

"It's not a big deal," she says. "I mean, it's not like you're telling me that you support the Chudley Cannons."

"Well, actually…"

Ginny feels her eye twitch. She reaches quickly and grabs onto the chair to keep from toppling over. "You tell Uncle Ron that I will hex him for corrupting my child," she grinds out.

"Mum?"

"I think I need to lay down."