Author's note: [enters room singing the Harry Potter version of "We Didn't Start The Fire"] [sings lyric where J.K.R. is mentioned] [uses it as a disclaimer] [makes cheesy pun about being attracted to Scorpius and James] [points out use of brackets] [for Abigail, who began to suffer withdrawal]

Chapter Ten

"Working Bee"

Or

"Lily and the Sun"

Lily's hands felt oddly naked, even though she was not one to wear rings. It was like the weight of the world was pressing against her fingers, and yet they had gone numb. Not unlike eyes on the back of her neck, the feeling in her hands left behind an almost sentient sensation. Perhaps he was watching her – though why he was watching her hands…

Scorpius had a nervous tic. She had noticed it more and more frequently over the time they had worked together. Tapping his foot against the ground in rapid succession, so his knee jogged up and down – maybe it gave him something to do. Maybe that's why he did it.

Lily's attention returned to her hands, which she interlaced over her thigh in an attempt to quell the feelings of being simultaneously empty and full. She should not have been as nervous as she was. There was no reason to be anxious, really. All they were asking to do was buy an office.

The two of them had mostly worked out of Scorpius's apartment over the past couple of months, hopping from one organization to a set of children's homes, with no permanent space. They had the money themselves – well, Scorpius did. He had insisted upon spending it to find them an office. If Lily's memory served, the conversation – if it could be called that – consisted of him saying, "Look, my dad's scummy band of elitists have pockets deeper than Gringott's vaults. In fact, they've got the vaults to match. What's the point of having family with money if you can't spend it on things you'll use?"

And she couldn't argue with that, really. Not any of it, from the Malfoys being elitists to pragmatic financial plans. It didn't help that his ardency had made her want to snog him then and there – in the middle of Wiltshire, no less.

"We've got nothing to worry about," said Scorpius quietly, perhaps noticing that Lily's knuckles had gone white. "Come on, it's not as though we're buying our first home together. But we are, in a way, I suppose."

She smiled at him and he returned the gesture.

"If things go south, I can always bribe our way into an office," he added.

"I'm not going to break the law, Scorpius. Especially when making society better is the sole aim of our business operation."

Scorpius quirked an eyebrow. "That's the difference between you and me, Lily," he told her, reaching out and taking her hand with one of his. "We've both got valid moral compasses, but mine doesn't always point north."

Lily stared at him, uncomprehending. Her free hand remained vice-like on her knee.

"How is it I know more about Muggle things than you do? Wasn't your father raised by Muggles?"

"Well, I guess you trying to rebel against your pureblood ancestry led you to delve a bit deeper than the rest of us."

He grinned, giving her hand a squeeze. "I like the way you think, Lily."

"I mostly like objectifying you."

"At least it's the other way around for once," said Scorpius, unperturbed.

"Mister Malfoy?"

The door to the estate agent's office had opened, and a stocky, middle-aged wizard was looking in Scorpius's direction. It was he – the estate wizard, a fellow named Shawgriff – who had spoken. Lily's instinct was to draw her hand from Scorpius's, but his grip did not slacken. He stood, bringing her along with him.

"Hello," said Shawgriff, somewhat confused at the sight of the young man in front of him. "I – I was expecting…"

"My father?" Scorpius offered, sending Shawgriff a smile so charming Lily could do very little not to swoon. She did not swoon. She may have grabbed his hand a little tighter, though. And he did notice. "No, no, I'm not him. Certainly not."

"And this is quite obviously not the Miss Greengrass I remember from all those years ago," said Shawgriff. He extended a hand to shake Lily's.

She obliged, replying, "No, I'm the other side of the coin. Lily Potter. Nice to meet you."

A familiar reaction played over the estate wizard's face. "Lily Potter, did you say? You're not… his daughter, are you?"

"Yes," said Lily, smiling. "And hers," she added, noticing Shawgriff's eyes on the red hair she had inherited from Ginny. "But please, let's continue this inside."

Shawgriff's office was modest, with a fair enough view overlooking Canary Wharf. He sat behind his desk, and Lily and Scorpius in front of it. They exchanged the necessary pleasantries, and then Shawgriff asked, "So what is it you're looking for today? Another apartment, Master Malfoy? Perhaps – "

Lily raised her eyebrows, half at her lack of address and half at the implication that Shawgriff had made. "Oh, no, not an apartment. We're actually looking for an office."

"An – an office?" Shawgriff repeated, looking confused.

Scorpius was not impressed. "Lily and I are working together, not sleeping together. Yes, an office."

"Oh… yes… come to think of it, I might have heard, if…"

"Heard if we were?" Scorpius surmised. "Yes, you might've. Reporters seem to love Lily's family, and Merlin knows I'd be shouting it from a mountaintop if ever we did start seeing each other – but, as she said, we're looking for an office."

Shawgriff opened his mouth again, but Lily cut across him. "The location shouldn't matter too much, as we travel around anyway, but somewhere near the center of the city would be best. You know, for clients."

"Yes, yes," said Shawgriff immediately, as though afraid that Lily and Scorpius would interrupt him again. "Yes, of course, let me see what I've got."

"Stop snogging! We're coming in the door!"

Sennen blushed such a severe shade it was almost maroon, and Albus launched one of the couch pillows in said door's general direction. It hit Scorpius in the chest as he entered.

"Wow." He groaned, clutching his breast. "Right in the heart. Al certainly knows how to hit someone where it hurts. Sennen, take note."

Lily rolled her eyes, pushing past Scorpius and throwing herself down on a free chair. "The bloke at the estate agency thought we were shagging."

Scorpius slammed the door shut and Albus's eyes bugged out. Sennen chortled for reasons unknown. Lily rolled her eyes once more, this time not just at Scorpius but at all three of them.

"I may have phrased that a little indelicately, but that's what he implied. Barely talked to me at all, come to think of it."

"That's true," said Scorpius. He came up to stand in front of her. "Now budge over, eh, Potter?"

"No way, get your own seat!"

"This is my apartment, I can sit where I like."

"What, are you evicting me from the seat?"

"No, I'm asking you to move over a bit, so we can share."

"If I let you share this seat we'll just end up arguing and interrupting Al's time with Sennen."

"We're already interrupting Al's time with Sennen." Scorpius gestured to said couple, both looking slightly afraid from the adjacent couch. After eyeing them up and down, he sighed. "You're right. Let's leg it, Ginge."

"Bedroom?"

"Only with your consent."

"Oi!" Albus protested, either finally regaining his wits or having had enough of his sister's conversation with his best friend. "I'll not have you chatting up my sister – not in front of me! And don't you think about heading off to any bedrooms together, not alone!"

Lily and Scorpius had both stood by this point. It was the former who spoke first.

"In all fairness, Al, it's not really Scorpius that does most of the chatting up. And I think you'll find it was me who suggested the bedroom in the first place."

"It was," Sennen interjected, nodding at Lily's point. "She was definitely on board."

Albus quirked an eyebrow at his girlfriend, who then apologized quietly and returned to the letter that was lying beside her – it had been addressed to Albus, but he had passed it over once he was done gleefully explaining that Victoire was due for a second child in a few months' time. As someone who was not due for any kind of child in a few anythings' time, Scorpius coughed.

"You needn't worry about me, Al. I'm not going to force anything on Lily, who is Lily first and your sister second, and who is also of age and can therefore legally make her own decisions, because she's my only colleague as of yet. I don't want to poison the well."

"But you would drink from it if you could?" Albus shot back.

Lily groaned. "Al, don't be gross!"

"Is it the subject matter that you find gross," Scorpius asked slowly, "or the fact that he suggested it?"

"Don't answer that, Lily!" Albus snapped.

Lily rolled her eyes for what could have been the fiftieth time. "Look, I'm going to go somewhere – anywhere, at this rate – to give you and Sennen some space, and I'd like to take Scorpius with me so we can discuss what happened with the estate wizard. Is that so much to ask?"

"As long as that's all you do – "

Scorpius swept over to Albus. " – I'm not going to shag your sister, mate," he muttered into his ear. "What kind of a best friend would I be if I did?"

"…You'd be like my dad, I suppose."

"That's not fair," said Scorpius, "your dad's brilliant. Give me someone worse."

"Can't think of anyone off the top of my head, actually."

"Okay. 'Brilliant', then." He looked once more into Albus's eyes. "You know I'm serious, don't you?"

"I thought you were Scorpius."

"Dad joke!" Sennen shouted, seemingly out of nowhere.

"If you two are done," Lily interjected pointedly. "Scorpius, we need to make some decisions."

"Right. Yes." He took a large step back from Albus, and moved towards his bedroom with Lily. "I liked the one in Chelsea, you know. Then again, it's Chelsea."

"Cordelia lives in Chelsea."

"Oh, but she's a special case."

"Is she now?" Lily grinned at him. "Is that why you skipped out on me to have lunch with her on her birthday?"

Scorpius shook his head fondly, throwing himself onto his bed, the picture of ease. "Sadly, no. And between the two of us, I think Cordelia's a lost cause, romantically. We've both seen the way she looks at James."

"I suppose that's true," said Lily, hoping that the same thing could not be said for the way she looked at Scorpius. "Now – Chelsea or central?"

"So how did the interview go?"

Ginny sipped at her tea and Cordelia drummed her fingers against the china of her own cup. They sat together in Philomena's, having just finished one of their semi-regular lunches. They could not be called 'lunches', really; in reality, they were more like early dinners. The dynamic had changed over the past few months, though Ginny was unaware of that. Cordelia, however, had been having almost weekly lunch dates with her boyfriend's mother.

"Oh, it was fine," she said, pushing James out of her mind. "Just one of those inspirational modern women things. Though, personally, I don't think there's anything too inspirational about me."

"That's the right way to look at yourself, I reckon," said Ginny. "Witch Weekly did a women of the war thing, too, way back. They kept asking me all these questions about how I kept the rebellion alive at Hogwarts with all the Death Eaters around. I was rubbish at it, because as far as I was concerned, what I'd done was what any decent person would have done in my position."

Cordelia smirked. "Hate to say it, Ginny, but rallying insurrectionary forces under the nose of Voldemort's inner circle at the age of sixteen isn't quite the same as nipping to the occasional Quidditch match and writing about it afterwards."

"It is if you're in love with one of the players."

Ginny sipped once more at her tea, bursting out in laughter at the sight of Cordelia's shocked face. "You know, for such a bright girl, the subtle art of figurative language goes right over your head."

"Oh," said Cordelia awkwardly. "You – meant Harry. Quidditch metaphor. Right. Of course."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Who did you think I meant?"

"No one. I was just – " she waved a hand in front of her face " – discombobulated."

"Right."

"Hello, you two!"

Both women smiled at the sound of the familiar voice, and Ginny turned in her chair so to see the person who had spoken. James had his hands on the top of his mother's seat and he was grinning, first down at his mother and then over at Cordelia, his eyes alight with the exhilaration of their shared secret.

"What are you doing in Diagon Alley?"

"I don't know, mother. Loitering. Attracting attention."

Cordelia smiled. "I've just done an interview with Witch Weekly, James."

She said it as though he had had no idea such an interview was taking place. In reality, they had talked it over many a time, both in her kitchen and his bed, even in hushed whispers at one of Victoire's dinner get-togethers. Taking his cues from her, James nodded interestedly.

"Oh? Was that any good?"

"I don't know, just the usual for Witch Weekly." She glanced at Ginny. "I like to think they were nicer about it than the previous few times, what with accosting me in a press box and all that."

James nicked a chair from a free table and pulled it up to sit in the space beside both Cordelia and Ginny, who sat opposite one-another. "Well, you gave them permission to ask, this time around."

"What kind of questions did they ask?" Ginny enquired.

"The usual ones, I suppose. What inspires me, how I got where I am today, which of my friends are closest to me, whether or not I'm seeing anyone – that kind of thing."

"And what'd you say?" asked James.

"You'll have to buy the magazine, won't you?" said Ginny, surveying her son with a suspicious expression on her face.

"I just want to know if she has a boyfriend, that's all, Mum."

Cordelia raised her eyebrows, and she and Ginny locked eyes.

"Yes," said Cordelia after a moment. "Yes, I do."

Things were quiet, then Ginny asked impatiently, "well, who?"

"Uh – he's in the European league."

"Another Quidditch player, then?"

"…A Quidditch player, yes."

"Oh," said Ginny. She looked around at them both. "Oh – really?"

Cordelia nodded. James kept his eyes on his mother.

"Relax, Mum," he said eventually, a grin on his face. "It's me."

"It's you what?"

"You've won your bet with Dad."

Ginny's face lit up. "I knew it!" she nearly shouted. "I told him! Ha, those ten galleons won't go amiss." She leaned over the table. "How long…?"

"Since June," said James smugly.

Ginny's lips parted. "Well, you've been doing well to hide it."

"James is quite concerned about maintaining my journalistic integrity," Cordelia explained, patting her boyfriend on the arm. "So it's not so much a secret as a security measure." She smiled. "I told him to stuff it at first, but things are working out alright."

"And nobody knows?" asked Ginny. She could not seem to believe it.

"I'm just as stunned, myself," said James. "But now you know, so it's not as though we haven't told anybody."

"So that's why Grimmauld Place has been abnormally clean," Ginny realized. She turned to Cordelia. "He's been living in squalor for years. Good thing he's got you to impress or the place would be a mess."

Cordelia laughed. "It's still cluttered with Quidditch stuff, but I'm working on moving the life-size poster of him out of his bedroom. I hate going in there with that thing winking at me."

"It's brilliant, though!" James argued. "Mum, just think about it – "

" – I am," said Ginny. "And two copies of you is enough to drive anybody insane. At least if there's a poster on the wall making faces, perhaps you'll realize how Teddy and Victoire used to feel with you trailing around after them all the time."

James went bright red. "Mum!"

"What? I like embarrassing you. It's not difficult."

"Most of the time he just walks into it," said Cordelia.

"Oh, wow, brilliant – let's just get Lily in here and have all three of the most important women in my life taking the piss."

"That was very complimentary," Cordelia told Ginny, who nodded, "in a slightly twisted way."

"Rubbish."

James looked around the table at Cordelia and Ginny's empty plates and teacups. He clapped his hands together and stood.

"Right. Poppins. Do you want to catch this evening's Wasps versus Pride of Portree match? It's at Exmoor," he added in a singsong voice.

Cordelia glanced at Ginny. "It's – "

" – It's going to be brilliant, and she'd love to go with you," said Ginny quickly, winking at Cordelia.

"I promise I'll do the correspondence as well," Cordelia told her in a hurried voice. "Quick-Quotes and everything."

Ginny looked up at James. "Doesn't this match start in an hour?"

James checked his watch. "Yes, my loveliest most splendid mother dear." He bent down and gave her a one-armed squeeze, kissing her on the cheek. "I love you, and I'm stealing your lunch date. Don't fire her or I'll write a Howler."

"You are a Howler." Ginny sighed. "Off you go, then. Have fun. I need to go and tell your father he's a prat and owes me ten galleons, anyway."

Cordelia stood and James put an arm around her, telling his mother, "That's love."

Halloween closed in with the aroma of spiced pumpkin juice and a plethora of Muggles dressing much more like wizards than the magical population was comfortable with. Tumbleweed was headlining a gig in Bristol, and Sennen dragged Albus along to see the show. The pub was crowded, and there was a columnist for some magazine at a table in the corner, and first the set was slow but then it was fast and by the end Sennen was shouting lyrics that Albus couldn't catch in the first place.

"Don't you love this?" Sennen exclaimed upon the downbeat of a tune called Hallows On.

"I do!" Albus shouted back, though really what he loved was getting to share the experience with her, this experience that she so enjoyed. "D'you still fancy the lead singer?"

Sennen's eyes remained stuck on Harrison as he sang, but evidently her mind did not. "A little bit, but it's the sort of thing you give a few seconds' thought in an idle daydream. I fancy you much more."

"That's really comforting, thanks."

"You're welcome, sweet pea." She clapped her hands together quickly as Harrison moved up to the giant magical megaphone into which he had been singing the entire gig. "Oh my gosh! They're going to play Lunatic's Parade!" She whirled around to Albus. "That's the finale! It's about mental illness and lycanthropic pride!"

"Of course it is."

Sennen looked at him. "A little support wouldn't go amiss. This band is fast becoming my entire life, so I'd appreciate it if you kept up."

He put his arm around her. "Sure thing, Fennec."

"Arctic fox, your Patronus may be," she said, "but you, sir, are an arctic monkey."

"An arctic monkey?"

Sennen nodded as Lunatic's Parade began to play. "I wanted to say 'arctic pain in my arse', but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to slip 'arctic monkey' into a conversation."

Albus laughed. "That's the Muggle band I like, isn't it?"

"Yes."

He began to hum a particular favourite of his, and Sennen launched into rapid-fire hollering of both Lunatic's Parade's lyrics and melodic line.

Shortly thereafter, the gig came to a close, and Patricia Day met Albus and Sennen just in front of the stage. Her hair was shorter, her eyes sharply lined. She grinned at them both.

"I'm going out with the boys for a night on the town – want to join us?"

Sennen glanced at Albus, hoping he knew that her idea of a night out was venturing to the kitchen to receive a slice of cake and then fast returning to her bedroom blanket fort. He smiled.

"Thanks for the offer, Patricia, but I think Sennen and I are going to head in."

Patricia raised her eyebrows, and her lips formed an understanding smirk. "Sure. Just thought I'd ask, seeing how loyal you always are to Tumbleweed." She stepped forward to hug Albus, and Sennen, in due course. "I'd better be off. Benji's waiting."

"Benji?" Sennen repeated.

"All of the boys," Patricia corrected quickly. "Anyway, I'll see you soon."

"Benji's the bassist, right?" Albus asked, once he and Sennen were safely returned to the warmth of her flat.

They were curled up together on the couch, Albus clutching a butterbeer and Sennen, a large caramel muffin. Their legs were interwoven, or as close as things could get to interwoven, what with his moderate height and her comparative lack thereof.

"He also plays ukulele," Sennen reminded. "And he wrote Hallows On. And Daylight Pinky Rich."

"Is that the weird one about the girl?"

Sennen nodded. "'I wanna kiss ya or I'll miss ya so Miss Pinky let me in… there just ain't no daylight for me, I'm not Pinky Rich.' I'd say it's one of the foremost love songs of our time – with just enough nods to bourgeois capitalism."

Albus glanced down at her with a quizzical fondness. "I love you."

She pulled back. He had never said that before. "Like… Daylight Pinky Rich?"

"Like the second verse." His nose scrunched up. "I think it's the second verse."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "'I can't stop thinkin' bout the way the daylight hits your hair'? 'And the way I wish we were alone and our somas were bare'?"

"Well, the second part came later, of course."

"So you do know the song! It's not just 'the weird one about the girl'!"

Albus raised his eyebrows. "It sort of is. It's still weird. Even if I agree with 'this melody found harmony and – my soul – it found family, in the way your words wash over me, when you say' – "

Sennen joined him, crooning, " – '"hey, let's split Pinky Rich under moonlight, baby!"'"

They sat there a moment in giggles, and then Sennen moved closer and kissed Albus.

"I can't believe I just used Tumbleweed lyrics to explain the depth of my affections," said the latter.

"I can," said Sennen. "I think it was brilliant. I love you, too. In an equally quirky and poetic way."

"Pinky Rich in the daylight, as opposed to the moonlight?"

"That's enough Pinky Rich."

"Sorry."

She smiled.

"I do love how casually you talk about bourgeois capitalism," Albus told her. "I think that's what sold me."

"Thank God you took Muggle Studies, or my collective cool would be lost on you."

"Ah, well, everything happens for a reason."

She looked towards the wall where Andy Fawcett's bedroom used to be. "Does it?"

Albus noticed her eyes on the blank space. "If it weren't for Andy, we wouldn't have been mates."

Sennen nodded, and then burst out laughing.

"What? What've I said now?"

"No, it's just – my cousin Michael can't believe we're dating. I think Mitchell Gilbert told him – they're on the same Quidditch team."

"Is this Shut Up Michael?"

"The very same."

Albus paused. "How is it you're both Muggleborn and both magical? Isn't it almost a lottery?"

"Nah, I've looked into it. Any Muggleborn has magical blood if you go far enough back. Sometimes it skips a few generations, and sometimes you get a couple. Michael and I are both Cartwrights by blood, which could mean our name was something else once."

"Oh – really?"

"Yeah, I'm going to ask my Gran about it."

"Oh. Cool."

"Yeah."

"So – uh – I love you."

"Should've picked it that day in Defence."

"Would've saved a bit of time, eh?"

"Well, that's where Patronuses are smart."

Barbara Weasley leaned forward, pressing a hand against the kitchen bench to keep herself standing. Her head was aching – a dull, throbbing sensation – and the pain of it had her cursing under her breath. She heard the water turn off in the bathroom, which meant Fred was done with his shower. A moment later, he came out into the hallway, hair wet and a towel wrapped around his hips.

"Mind chucking me my wand, babe? It's on the table."

"Remember last time I threw you your wand?" she asked weakly. "The furniture didn't touch the ground for a week."

He seemed to twig that something was not quite right. "You haven't got a headache again, have you?"

Barbara nodded. "Every day for the past fortnight. I wake up and it's torture – which is perfect, considering I've just started assistant teaching at the pre-eminent dramatic arts school in the country. Of course. That's the perfect time to get ill. Kids running around re-enacting Wizard End musicals, all grand jetéing instead of walking anywhere."

Fred looked confused. "You love that stuff. What's wrong?"

"Well, my head, for starters."

"For starters?"

"I also happen to feel like I just got punched in both boobs, if you want to know."

"Of course I want to know. Your boobs are the combined second and third points on my list of important things."

"Fred – "

" – Sorry – d'you want a potion or anything? Have you thought about stopping by St. Mungo's? Healer Bones might have something."

She sighed. "I just feel so crook."

Fred crossed the room and came to a stop right in front of her. "You know what? I'll get dressed, then I'll stop by Teddy and Vic's and steal back your copy of that Goshawk book – that always makes you feel better, doesn't it? And then I'll go to St. Mungo's and – "

" – I feel like if you give me a potion I'll be sick."

"Oh, uh…"

"Go to Teddy and Vic's and get the book. I'll write in to work and say I'm bedridden, which I pretty much need to be, at this point."

He helped her back to bed and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Do you need anything to eat before I head off?"

"Fred," she said monotonously. "I'm ill. I'll vomit."

"Right. Sorry."

"It's okay – it's my brain throbbing out of my head, not yours."

"Ted?" Fred called, knocking on the door as he opened it. "Vic? You lot home?"

There was a high-pitched squeal of "For-Eddie!" and the toddling Lupin collided with Fred's knees. The child's hair began to change from Victoire's shade of blonde to mimic that of Fred, who picked him up and said, "hey, kiddo. Parents left you to man the fort, have they?"

Changing eye colour with each blink, almost like a traffic light, the child replied, "Converse tree."

"Oh," said Fred. "Brilliant."

He dawdled through the house to the conservatory, where Victoire and Teddy sat, the latter holding Barbara's book, and the former hugely pregnant. At the sight of Fred holding their child, both parents smiled.

"He said you were in the converse tree, so I thought I'd come and check it out."

"We do love the converse tree," said Victoire. "Even when it's halfway to winter."

"So what brings you to this particular converse tree?" Teddy asked. "It's a bit far from Diagon Alley."

"I've actually come to steal that book." He nodded to the novel in Teddy's hands.

"For a second I thought you were going to say you wanted to steal my child," said Teddy. "You could've had him too, if you want. He looks a bit like you now."

Sure enough, the child in Fred's arms could have been his for all the likeness he possessed.

"One day," Fred told the toddler. "When you're going through a rebellious phase, you can come live with me." He returned his attention to Teddy and Victoire. "No, actually, Barbara's feeling pretty awful and I was hoping if she had a good book to read it'd be easier to relax."

"Bah-bah!" squealed the child.

"She hasn't still got that headache, has she?" Victoire asked.

Fred nodded.

Teddy and Victoire exchanged a glance.

"What?" Fred asked quickly. "She's got a headache, and she's got sore boobs – Ted, don't think about my wife's boobs – "

" – Has she been vomiting?"

This, from Victoire, with a seriousness Fred had not expected.

"…No… but she's said she feels like she might."

"For-Eddie, some Bah-bah!"

Fred looked down at the child in his arms and almost dropped him. He had Barbara's eyes and Fred's hair, caught somewhere between his natural looks and the scrambled thoughts of For-Eddie and Bah-bah inside his head. Fred's eyes shot to Victoire.

"You don't think Barbara's – ?"

Victoire bit her lip. "I think she might be."