Oh, a quick thing about these chapters; they are essentially all taking place during the same time. Scorpius is in bed with Hugo while Teddy arrives home to snap at Alexander and Harry quells him then heads off to work to greet James. And Albus... Well. /wink.

No warnings for this ch, btw. Just lots of swearing. I think if you can handle hallway sex, you can handle excessive swear words XD

Anyway, enjoy! And, again, thanks for all the reviews and alerts and favorites!

We love you ALL.

"We found their graves, Auror Potter-Malfoy." A file was placed carefully before the young Auror, clean, ordinary. James's world shifted.

He nodded slightly, hoping to portray careful nonchalance. "Thanks."

"Head Auror wants to see you too."

His hand hovered over the folder a moment before withdrawing. It had been this long; he could wait another few minutes to see what his father wanted. "On my way, then."

-8-8-

"Hello, James." Harry set down his glasses, rubbing at the bridge of his nose as he motioned for his son to have a seat near him, on the desk, on the chair in front of the desk. Bloody fuckin' Ministry and sending idiots to his department...

James dropped down into one of the chairs before the desk, unsure if he were about to be addressed by papa or Head Auror Potter-Malfoy. "Auror Reinshant said you wanted to see me."

"Your brother's home." So he was being papa. Okay, good. Harry glanced into a few files stuffed to the brim with papers, lifting a few sheets and sliding some around.

James smiled. "Is he? It's about time."

"You have... no idea, James."

He was being tired papa. It was no longer good. Smile fading, James straightened in his chair. "Is he alright? Was he hurt?"

"He's..." Harry ran a hand through his tangled locks.

"Papa?" James reached out, grabbed his father's hand. "He's okay, isn't he?"

Sliding a file out from under a stack on his desk, weighed down by a weight charm, Harry held the file out, silently hanging onto James's hand like a lifeline.

"The Wilhelm case? I was going to be part of that team." Wary, James flipped it open and let his father crush his hand. As he read, he began to tremble and cling right back. "I was going to be part of that team," he repeated, his tone entirely different. "Godric," he breathed. Teddy had been holed up for four days, his partner was dead, and three others besides. A fourth was in St. Mungo's in critical condition. "Oh, fuck, papa..."

"Yeah..." He cleared his throat, clenching his eyes shut to blink back the annoying prick of tears. "He... He's bad off. Mentally, I s'pose. Alex and him got into a fight again."

"I see. Mind-Healers and desk duty..." There was a quiet moment, James tightening and then loosening his grip as he looked up at Harry, trying to remember. "I... Shite," he murmured. "Alex?"

Nodding, Harry took a long, deep breath, leaning back into his chair. Age began to show against the lines of his face. He couldn't handle his sons risking their lives for very much longer. "Something about both of 'em going at each other's throats when Teddy got back. Ted not leaving notes for anyone or something."

"No, papa..." He hated this, had been dealing with it since the accident that had killed his biological parents. They were brief lapses, but they were there. "Who's Alex?"

Devastation flashed across Harry's face before it was hidden behind a calm mask. The lapses had been one thing he'd never been able to cure and each time one surfaced, he was reminded of that. As much as they were able to adjust for James, as much as they were able to make things easier and better for him, they could never entirely fix him. "Alexander Zabini, James. He is the son of Blaise Zabini and his wife Pansy." The words sounded recited, dull like a drone. It wasn't as though James forgot that particular name very often, but the theme was invariably the same. "He and your brother Teddy have been on and off for close to a year now. He's a painter."

He couldn't picture it, but he swallowed it because the devastation - while brief - had hit hard. He hated disappointing his father, was extremely grateful to have a partner who would pass over his lapses in official reports. "Right, sorry. Right." He smiled, gave his father's hand a squeeze. "Teddy didn't tell him he was going?"

"I... Yeah. He, um, Teddy's not the best at that." Harry chuckled, schooling his expressions. He had to stay strong for James; he had done so well these past two decades. "Got back and Alex went ballistic."

"Papa, you don't like it when Teddy goes back and forth without letting anyone know." And like a fingersnap, Alexander came back. "And we all know Alexander exaggerates. It might not be that bad."

Harry paused for a second, swallowed past the lump in his throat, and forced a grin on his lips. "Yes, well, that's a Zabini for you. Now." He clapped his hands together, gazing at his son with a fond, exhausted expression. Shaggy brown hair, wide grey eyes, tanned skin, lean muscles, broad shoulders and a height Draco would be proud of. He looked like a Malfoy-Potter. He certainly had the personality for one. "You had something to show me, yes?" Reinshant.

"Oh." He wondered how his father would know about that and then sighed. Papa knew almost everything that happened in the Auror department. He reached into his robes and withdrew the manila folder. "I... I wanted to know what happened and, well, where they are." He set the folder down on Harry's desk.

A cautious express danced over Harry's face as he pulled the file closer and flipped over the cover. Harry froze; he'd known that his son had wrangled a favor from Reinshant, but... he hadn't exactly known who the boy had been looking for. "James," the Head Auror gasped in shock, heart jumping in his throat. He should've known. "Is this...?"

"You and dad are my parents." His tone was certain. "I won't ever think any differently. You've done everything for me and Al, papa. Absolutely everything. But I spent ten years with these people and... I want to see them."

Harry nodded instantly. "O-Of course." He coughed quietly to clear the nervous lump from his throat. "Of course. Would you be leaving immediately?" Head Auror Potter-Malfoy.

"After work, papa. I have reports to fill out." He smiled. "You at least have one mildly responsible child." And he needed to floo call Draco and let him know.

"Oh? And who would that child be?" Harry quipped.

"I'll let you know when I figure it out." He rose, reaching out and grasping his father's hand. It wasn't often that they got too personal at the Ministry. "I love you, papa. Teddy'll be okay if me and the other two have to knock some sense into him."

Harry chuckled as James turned with a smile and a 'give dad my best!' and the door to his office clicked shut. "You might just have to knock him in, Jamie... You might just have to." With that final thought plaguing his thoughts, Harry tilted his head back down, grabbed a quill with a dab of ink and beginning his long, torturous journey through his mounds of paperwork.

-8-8-

He felt almost bad for coming here without Albus. These were his parents too, after all. But he'd felt the need to do this, at least this first time, by himself. He knew now why it had been so difficult for Reinshant to track them down. They'd been it, just the four of them. Margaret and Robert O'Connor had no extended family and no discernible history beyond that one, tragic instant where a spell or potion had gone awry. How sad, he thought, that even their cause of death was a mystery.

There were flowers on their graves - magical, meaningless ones that made him feel bad about not bringing anything. He should've brought something... He'd lived with these people for ten years. They'd raised him; they'd named him. Thinking of that, he wondered if he should tell Al what his real name was, but quickly decided it didn't matter. He was much more of an Albus than he was a Ryan anyway.

James squatted down, tracing his fingers over the names on the single headstone they had. "I should know who you are," he said quietly. "I should remember what you look like without the blurry photographs they had on file. I should know you," he whispered. The fact that he'd managed to remember his name, though, was miraculous enough.

He sighed. "I feel silly talking to a headstone as if the two of you will suddenly appear and respond, but I suppose... I suppose I've hoped for wilder things. I'm James, by the way, your oldest. I'm second in my new home, with my new family. My papa is Harry Potter. Can you imagine? And my dad is Draco Malfoy. They're both... they're indescribable parents, honestly. They could never fill in the blank ten years of my life, but they've filled the rest. We've traveled the world, Al and I. Though you'd know him as Ryan, I suppose. I'm sorry we changed his name to Albus, but it was the only thing I could think of. It was on the chocolate frog card I had in my pocket. The front was a little messed up, but the rest was fine. I liked Al a lot more than I liked the other name on the card - that Nicholas one. I hope the pair of you don't mind."

James rocked back. "No one knows how Al and I got out, you know. Not even us. I guess you must've put some sort of protection on us, so... thank you. And thank you for whatever you did those first ten years. I..." Sighing, he got to his feet. He didn't know what else he could say. "Next time... next time, I'll bring Al," he promised.

And then he wondered, staring blankly at the unfamiliar names, why he was there and why he would promise to bring them Al. Margaret and Robert O'Connor...? Who...? Confused, James turned on his heel and Apparated to Malfoy-Potter Manor. It wasn't until he'd made it up to his room that he realized what he'd done. Sighing, he thumped his head against the door of his armoire. He'd walked away from his biological parents' gravesite with no idea of who they were.

He hated these memory lapses. He was just immeasurably thankful that they were brief and happened less often than they had when he'd first gotten injured. And that they only minimally affected his job. He had a partner who understood his lapses and could cover and he knew enough different spells to keep fighting if one slipped his mind.

Sighing, he withdrew his Auror robes and threw them haphazardly onto the bed before sighing and heading down the stairs to the dining room. He was a little late for dinner, but was still surprised to only see his papa. "Where's Al and Teddy? And I thought Scorp'd be home this weekend."

Harry looked up, offered a smile. "Teddy's upstairs sleeping, Scorpius had plans with Hugo, and Al's with his girl." The smile slipped a little at the mention of Al, but none of them were really happy about that relationship.

"Alright. Glad I showed up before the pair of you attacked one another on the table," he teased, dropping into his usual seat.

"Oh that already happened, thank you very much, dear son of mine." And in swept Draco Malfoy-Potter, long hair, billowing robes and... bare feet?

"That was not information I needed to hear, thanks. You could've just let me believe my parents were going to be very proper for once."

"Speaking of parents," Harry began quietly, toying with his fork.

James nodded at the house-elf who popped in and out, leaving a plate behind. He lifted a glass of wine first, taking a sip. "Don't dance around it, papa. I went."

"Went where?" Draco pressed a kiss to James's temple, one to Harry's lips with a squeeze to his shoulder and sat gracefully into a high-backed chair, Genma instantly popping in and out with a snifter filled part-way with warm Fire Whiskey and a small plate of some form of... something. Probably some form of fish. Who knew with Draco anymore?

James looked Harry's way. "You didn't tell him?"

Between the frenzied fucking in the hall, Draco's disappearance to Blaise's, and their most current romp, Harry hadn't had a chance. "Ah... Not yet. I was about to."

And James, unlike Teddy, was much more used to evading so he latched onto an oddity. "Dad, where've your shoes gone? You never walk around without at least slippers."

The eldest Malfoy rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Genma greeted me very kindly in my lab while I was brewing a certain..." His eyes darted over to meet an emerald hued gaze, sharp silver melting into a molten grey. "Potion for your father. Knocked my cauldron over, melted through my shoes. I figured a new pair could wait." He popped a piece of an apple into his mouth.

"Can't get it up anymore, old man?"

"What is with our children calling me that? That's two in one bloody day." Harry pointed his fork at his second-oldest son, eyes narrowed. "I'm younger than your dad, prat."

"Hey!" Draco called out indignantly.

James snickered. "Didn't deny the Potion though, did you old man? Need a little more than a Pepper-Up?"

"You and Scorpius. You've both been black-listed. Cheeky little gits," he muttered. "And, no, I'm having no difficulty in that department."

Grumbling, Draco ducked his head to take a small bite of his fish. "My arse still hurts, I can tell you that. No problems whatsoever."

James groaned, covering his face with his hand. "Oh, bloody hell, the images! Don't make me think about things like that! You're my parents!"

"Parents have sex," Harry announced, rather snootily. "And occasionally they shock the portraits in the hall when they do."

"The..." James made a gagging sound. What were his parents doing fucking in the hall?

Draco just hummed in pleased contentment. "So what brings you here, James?" Another forkful was raised to cupids bow lips. "Not your fathers' sex lives, I suppose?"

"Well..." James hated to bring down a mood. He poked at his fish, as the elves had gotten used to serving him whatever they gave Draco, and poked at it listlessly. "I asked an Auror who largely handles missing persons to locate Margaret and Robert O'Connor." He didn't explain further, clinging to the very unlikely hope that his dad wouldn't ask who they were. He'd been hoping his papa would've explained this already... So much for that.

"Oh?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "Who are they?"

Harry's hand landed on his knee. "Dray... They're-"

"They're my parents. ...Me and Al, I mean." James fiddled with his wine glass. "I visited their graves after work."

The room was utterly silent.

"Your parents?" Draco's voice was quiet. The Slytherin didn't know if he should be shocked, ecstatic, devastated... Happy... Worried. Confused? James had found his original parents. Draco's heart wrenched sickeningly. Well, their graves.

"Do you know how small their file is?" he murmured, stared at the deep red of his wine. "No extended family, no past at all really. A small record of when they were at Hogwarts, marriage license, and... that's it. That's really it. How sad is that? They don't even know exactly what killed them. Al and I are their only legacy and... and I don't even remember the sound of their voices..."

"James..." Draco stood quietly, walking around the table to place a hand gently against his son's shoulder. "You were young. It was an accident." That took their lives.

"But what kind of accident? No one knows. How did Al and I survive? No one knows." James laid his hand over his father's on his shoulder, looking up at him with shattered grey eyes. "How do you people just... they're gone and no one mourned. Not even their sons."

"No one knew, Jamie. And I'm sure people mourned. They must of had friends. Maybe no family relatives, but friends." Leaning down, Draco wrapped an arm around James's shoulder, pulling him tightly against his side. "We were told about something concerning a Potion-gone-wrong when we first tried adopting you and your brother. That's all we know." The 'I'm sorry' went unsaid.

"They don't know if it was a potion and some friends!" Always the more volatile of the two, James pushed away and rose to pace. "Do you know what Al's real name is? Ryan. I named my own brother. I didn't even know for sure that that's who he was when I... woke up? I don't know. Everything's black. Everything." He spun on his heel, staring at his fathers. "Until I'm sitting in some park, holding this boy's hand. Just some boy. No name, nothing. I don't know why I know my own name when I don't know his, when I don't where he's come from or where I've come from. All I know is that we're together for some reason and there was a half-burnt card in my pocket with this name on it. I picked Al. I looked at this little kid, called him Al, and went with it. We waited for two days in that park before someone in robes found us and dragged us away."

James shook his head, waving a hand dismissively. "They had friends? Where were they?"

Draco glanced at Harry, meeting a worried gaze. "James..."

Harry looked back at Draco for a moment before turning his gaze on his son. He'd never told them that. "We..."

"No. No, don't look at me that. Don't feel bad for me." He tucked his hands in his pockets, blew out a gusty breath. "Things turned out... I'm an Auror now. Al has his bookshop. We're fine now." He had memory lapses and Al was clingy and his magic sparked occasionally. He couldn't be around Muggles because of it, but they were okay. "It's just... It's not fair. It's not right. Someone needs to know who these people were. How can you just die and not leave something behind? They left two boys who don't know who they are. And that's... that's sad."

"Oh Jamie. You and Al grew up so strong." Draco smiled sadly. "Maybe they had friends, colleagues. But we don't know." Walking over to the pacing young man, Draco drew him into his arms. "You'll figure things out. I know you, and you know that you will." I hope he does... Poor O'Connors.

"No one should die and have no one remember," James whispered, clinging. "I love you, dad. I love you and papa. But I need to try and find... something."

"We love you too," Harry assured him, rising and going to the two. "I understand needing something of your parents, James. It's alright."

"We both understand," Draco's eyes connected with Harry's over James's head as he tightened his arm around his son's shoulders. "We'll always be your parents. We'll always love you, but we understand that you have to do this." He pressed a kiss to James's hair. When had all his sons grown up?

He grinned, relief filling every inch of his body. "This is why I like you guys."

Draco chuckled, pulling back to gaze at James with a soft smile. "Just like?"

"I love you guys, geez. Are we a cheesy radio programme? Let's eat already. Ruddy starving."

Rolling his eyes, Draco chuckled and patted James's cheek, turning back towards the table and smiling at Harry. "We're your family, James. We're allowed to be as cheesy as want."

"I think it's more to do with age. It's addled your brains," James decided, but moved naturally into the hug Harry grinningly offered. "Cheesy blighter."

"Difficult prat," his papa teased, giving him a warm squeeze. "Food."

"Food," James agreed, dropping into his chair. Abruptly, he realized that they were the only three in the room. "Where is everyone?"

They'd already explained where everyone was. Harry flicked his gaze up to Draco, gave a helpless wave of his hand behind his son's back.

"They'll be along," Draco nodded, reaching for his goblet and taking a sip. Genma appeared with a pop, glanced around, popped out and appeared with more food.

Harry gave his husband a grateful smile - he'd always taken James's lapses better than he had - and sank into his own chair. A troubled expression passed over the young man's expression as it snapped back to him. "Right, no... I... Teddy's sleeping, Al's with his girl, and Scorp's with Hugh." Less hungry, he reached for his wine and took a swallow. "Sorry. Way to cap off a rant, yeah?"

Draco reached over the table, grasping James's hand. "We don't mind, James. Now eat, please?" He found Harry's hand with his other under the table. It hurt him, truthfully, to handle James's lapses in memory. But they'd handle it. They were the Potter-Malfoy family with some Lupins and... And O'Connors thrown in there. They'd handle it.

"I'll eat. I'm fine." He forked up some fish, giving his dad's hand a squeeze. "I'll be fine."

"You are fine." Draco chuckled, pulling back to take a forkful of his fish. "Now, what about those Quidditch scores?" Draco's eyes lifted to meet Harry's. They were all fine.

-8-8-

"Papa, you shouldn't."

"No, I really should," Harry replied. He had Teddy's case file under his arm and his Auror son on his heels. It seemed that his children knew him entirely too well or maybe the way he'd dismissed James when re-receiving this file was what had tipped him off. But after his conversation with Teddy that morning, he was even more enraged.

Teddy was a good boy - man. Fuck, his sons were men... Shaking that thought out of his head, Harry strode down the hall towards the Head Hit Wizard's office. "Papa," James began, but Harry quickly cut him off.

"You have cases, James. Go take care of them."

His mouth opened to protest, then closed. That had been the tone of a Head Auror. Back stiffening, James's resolve hardened. "No."

"James-"

"You're right," he said and completely threw Harry off. "You're right," he repeated. "Not telling you was wrong. Not only are you a father, you're a Head in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He should've told you. But is yelling at him really the way to get what you want?"

"James, yelling gets so much more done here than filing a complaint would. Which is why I've done the latter and am about to do the former. Stay and watch, go and work. I'm going to go shout at a baboon."

Resigned, James sighed and followed his father.

"Head Auror Potter-Malfoy, what a surprise." A drawling voice sounded anything but surprised as the door to Head Hit Wizard Huxley's office was slammed open with a loud bang.

Harry tossed the folder down while his son very quietly closed the door behind him. "I have a problem."

"Oh really Auror Potter?" The wizard smirked, wrinkles crinkling against the side of his mouth. Everyone knew of the Potter-Malfoy wedding. "And what may that problem be, with my department?"

"Not with your department," Harry spat. "More with you in general. You had no right to keep this information from me." He flipped the folder open, jabbed at the paragraph detailing his son's entrapment. "It was reported to your office that he'd gone. You should've come to me."

"Oh?" Huxley leaned forward, broad shoulders and a tweaked mustache the only thing close to the man that would be considered "clean." Greased back, sand blonde hair, prickly mustache that covered his whole upper lip, a shit-eating grin, slimy voice and crinkled, grease spotted clothes, Auror Jackson Huxley was as greasy in appearance as he was in the workplace. "And do tell, Mr. Potter, why should I have gone to you?"

He lifted his chin, looking down his nose in a move he'd learned after years with Draco. "It was a joint investigation, Huxley. Every move between the teams was to be shared. I had my men keep you updated. It was your place to keep me in the loop. I should've been informed the moment it was realized that the intel was bad. Instead, four good wizards are dead."

"Yes, well," he leaned back against his chair, hands clasped around an overly round stomach, a bored drawl dancing into his tone. "That is a tragedy, yes. But there are more important things to focus on now, so if that is all..."

"More important? One is still in critical condition at St. Mungo's. Four families lost a loved one because of intel that traces back to you." Harry slammed his palms down on the edges of the wizard's desk, leaning forward. "You can easily be held accountable for those deaths. Do you want to be?"

"Mr. Potter, you seem to under the delusional assumption that this is somehow my fault," Huxley tsked as if the notion somehow offended him, his mustache twitching against his upper lip like a giant bug.

"Potter-Malfoy," Harry growled, lips curling into a dangerous snarl. "And it is your fault, Huxley. The fucking report proves that! The intel - the faulty intel that got my son abducted! - came directly to your office from your source. Your very conveniently unnamed source."

"Yes, well," he coughed to clear his throat, leaning forward, the crinkled, brown leather chair creaking under his weight. Jackson Huxley was a greased, beached whale. Disgusting blighter. "I must say that I am not to blame Mr. Potter as it wasn't my department to fail in the delivering of intel to you. It was your son's department. Under you."

"It was a case run by the Hit Wizards! Your department is the one who requested our services! Protocol states that you get the first notice from both the Aurors and the HWs in the field. Then you report to me."

"Mr. Potter, lower your voice. We can discuss this in a calm, adult fashion. There is no need to yell."

"Lower my voice?" Harry snapped up the folder and flipped to the front. "Initial arrival at the scene proved immediate cause to doubt the intelligence previously given. I should've been notified. Instead, you made the decision for them to stick to the plan." He flipped a couple of pages. "When UNSUBs arrived on scene - six days later - and began a magical ritual unrecognized by any of the wizards in scene, I should have been notified. Instead, you made another judgement call and ordered them all to remain on scene. This mysterious ritual got them all found; the first Auror died. Again! I should have been notified!"

He slapped the folder down, glaring, green eyes sharp with fury, and leaned in close. "LOWER MY VOICE? You nearly got my son slaughtered! Your fucking judgement calls! YOUR FAULT!"

James, who had absolutely never heard his father rage like this, found himself pressed against the wall. He quickly straightened from it, attempting a casual stance. But his eyes were wide. Papa was furious.

Huxley was waiting, calmly. The perfect picture of serenity. Inside he was terrified. This man was a legend, not taking any shite from the Prophet and the like, standing up for innocent war veterans, marrying that scum Draco Malfoy and saving his bloody fucking son, and then going and playing the stupid Boy Hero card and adopting three other little squirts, one that now stood in his room, breathing his air. Huxley had too much shite to deal with then get caught up in being yelled at by Harry Potter. Son on his team or not. That boy wouldn't get far using the Potter name.

"Auror Potter, I'm going to have to ask you to lower your voice, or leave. I have work to do. My judgement, and what my team actually does is none of your business, if I may say. And I am sorry, truly." A sickening smirk curved below his mustache. "But it is not my fault if your son gets himself captured and his wand confiscated. He is trained to handle situations like that. I can't be there to hold his hand."

Harry snapped straight, fury pouring from him in tangible waves, the air crackling with magic. "Potter-Malfoy," he corrected, voice suddenly, dangerously low. It was somehow more terrifying than the shouting. "If I need to tell you that again, I will do so in the form of branding it on your skin. Now, what your team does is very much my business when it is a joint case or do I have to explain your job to you?"

His lips curled in a sneer. "And you're absolutely right. My son is trained to handle situations like that, which is why he's still alive and safe at home right now. Thank Merlin you aren't there to hold his hand or he probably would have died. Considering your absolutely brilliant," and his voice dripped with sarcasm, "decisions, that is. My son is the only reason that fourth auror is still breathing. My son is the only reason that mission was at all successful."

He plucked up the folder again. "If you aren't going to take responsibility for getting four wizards killed, I'll just take this to Minister Shacklebolt and ask him his opinion." His smile was sharp. "Let's see who he agrees with, shall we? The man who didn't do his job properly or the one who isn't at fault in the slightest."

Huxley froze. Shite. Bloody fucking idiot that stupid little scum of an auror was. "Mr. Potter. There most be some form of a compromise we can come to, yes?" He leaned forward to rummage under a few piles of paperwork stained with coffee rings and... Harry didn't want to know. "Aha! Now," the Hit Wizard pulled a file out, flipped it open and glanced down with a small hum, "since your... son seems to be a concern. We shall move him, yes? To a safer department?" The man grabbed

at a quill and dipped it into a well of ink.

Harry laid a hand over Huxley's. To James, it looked like a simple enough touch. To Huxley, it was physically paralyzing as Harry's magic seeped from his fingertips and into Huxley's nervous system. "Potter-Malfoy. I am married, which you are well aware," he growled. "And my son will not be moved unless he himself requests a transfer. You are the one who's at fault here, Huxley. And I have my own ways, my own sources. And I will make sure you pay in one way or another. Justice will be gotten for those four men, for my son, and for the one in the hospital." He released the greasy man, feeling returning instantly into his body. "Auror Potter-Malfoy."

James straightened. "Sir?"

"Why don't we leave Hit Huxley to his thoughts and to his... work?"

"Sir," the younger auror agreed and opened the door.

Harry sent a final cutting look over his shoulder. "Either take responsibility like a grown man or have it shoved down your throat, Huxley. Have a nice day." He swept from the room, burgundy robes flicking regally.

James went out after him and nearly jumped out of his skin at a loud thud. "Papa...? Papa! What did you do?"

"I think I dented the wall." He had, but his hand looked quite a bit worse. Bloodied, possibly broken. Certainly bruised.

James grabbed his father's wrist to study the wound. "Why did you do that?"

"Because grinding it into his face would've been a bad idea. Anyway, take this to Kingsley." He offered the folder with his good hand. "My complaint's attached in invisible ink on the back page."

"Why don't you take it?"

"It's my lunch break." He smiled. "I'm going to go see your dad."

James rolled his eyes at the tone. "Try not to fuck him until after he fixes your hand."

"James, I'm hurt. You think I'd sit through his scolding during the healing? I'm going to fuck him while he fixes my hand." He patted James's cheek, laughing at the face he made. "To Kingsley. Right now, and that's an order."

"Alright, Auror Potter-who-usually-doesn't-care-about-his-full-name."

His lips twitched, but his eyes sobered. "There's convenience and there's insult. When someone very blatantly doesn't respect your father, uses only Potter in an attempt to disregard his existence, I care. When I'm in the field and there isn't time for all those syllables, it's Potter or it's Malfoy."

"Or Harry since you're usually out with Ron."

"Exactly. Kingsley," he said again and James rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Auror Papa. I get it."

"Smart-mouthed git," he said, but his smile was back. "I love you, son."

"Love you too, papa. Get your hand fixed. I'll get this to Kingsley along with my own complaint." When Harry lifted a brow, it was James's eyes that sobered, expression cooling. "My brother," he reminded him. "And those aurors were my friends."

Harry gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Yes, they were. And Larson still is. Go on, Auror. I'll see you for dinner."

After a roll of his son's eyes, a shade darker than his husband's, Harry took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and apparated away with a crack.

-8-8-

"Harry! Merlin, your hand!"

"Well, now you just sound like James."

There was a sound of a quiet slap against the head, muttered words of annoyance, and Draco forced Harry to sit down near his Potions table with a quick shove of the shoulders. "You idiot! You blithering, bumbling, dithering idiot!" Draco was summoning supplies left and right with a wave of his hand, his magic so much more controlled than it was when Harry had first gotten it back for him and it has snapped in and out of the other man's body like a whip.

"The fucker who nearly got Teddy killed made me a little mad." Unaffected by his husband's insults, Harry gave a small shrug. "He's going to either end up fired or demoted, or Kinglsey's going to get hell from me."

Grumbling about heathen idiots and stupid Ministry officials, Draco mumbled a quiet "This is going to hurt," and cleansed the wound with a wave of his wand that he pulled out from his sleeve. "What's that git's name again? The HW guy?"

"Huxley. I'm giving him until tomorrow to throw himself at Kingsley's mercy before I send a statement to Luna. I may talk to Seamus Monday, see if his boy won't run the story." He smiled, wincing only a little at the sting of the spell. "We can't always run to the Quibbler and if Fin'll run it straight, it'll be nice to have a legitimate reporter on our side."

Draco nodded, chuckling at the mention of Seamus and Dean's son, Finny. No one could pronounce that poor boy's first name, so they stuck to a nickname and left it at that. Straight out of Hogwarts he was a reporter for the Prophet, smart boy, great writing, great photos. "Well, I'll contact Blaise as well, see if he could... tap into any old contacts of ours." That was obviously just a pathetic code for Draco was going to beat the living shite out of this person for being a jackarse to his husband and son and he was going to use some old contacts from his "war days" before he went in there himself.

"Don't give me any other details, darling. I am an officer of the law and whatnot." He leaned forward, capturing his lips in a lingering kiss. "With that said, I'll give you a full description of him if need be. Just so you know to avoid him and such, of course."

Draco's smirk was full of laugh humor as he summoned some gauze and tape and slowly set to work on wrapping Harry's knuckles. "Of course, love. Need to be protected and all."

"He tried to say that it was somehow Teddy's fault, what happened. Honestly, I think he's just afraid that Ted's going for his job. It's very possible, but not for a few years. Teddy's fabulous at his job. I've told you." Not everything, but enough. "Bastard. He didn't do his job and it got people killed. He'd damn well better own up to it."

"I honestly think he will. You're scary enough when yelling, but I have a feeling you talked quietly, didn't you love?" Draco smirked, sealing Harry's bandages with a quick sticking charm and placing a kiss to the tender knuckles.

"I did some yelling and then I got quiet. And then I grabbed his wrist." He left it at that, knowing Draco would understand and know what he'd done. "He threatened to move Teddy to another department. As unsafe as being a Hit Wizard is, he's good at it. He enjoys it. If he wanted a transfer, he could have it, but he has to be the one to ask." His smile was just a touch wicked. "Anyway, am I all better now, darling?"

Draco clicked his tongue and gazed at Harry analytically. "Hm. Maybe. I think I may need to check for any other scraps and bruises. Maybe something happened below the clothes?" Draco's smirk was pure wicked.

"Mm... Maybe you should check me in the bath?" Since moving into the Manor, the two of them had figured out all sorts of things to do with the multiple rooms. One in particular had been fitted with a bath that rivalled that of the Prefects' bath at Hogwarts. "I did touch the man. Absolutely disgusting. I should be cleansed."

Draco's nose scrunched in disgust and he quickly snapped his fingers.

Crack.

"Genma, prepare a bath in the last ensuite in the East Wing. Hot water. Immediately."

"Yes, Master Draco."

Crack.

"Well, we must get you straight to a bath than, shouldn't we Head Auror Potter? Don't want you going home to your husband full of filth now, do we?" Draco pulled Harry into his arms and apparated them to the bathroom with a quick pulse of magic.

Syl's computer flubulates. XD Sounds dirty, doesn't it?

It is. Trust me. It is~

Anyway, three boys down. NOW TO ALBUS. :D

I am so excited for him XD He's so ADORABLE. lol