Chapter 25: Expectations

5 August 2032

Heidelberg University Hospital, Heidelberg, Germany

"Mrs. Potter?"

Alice stood up as quickly as her bulk would allow, pushing off of the chair with her arms and hurriedly turned towards the doctor. She hurriedly searched his face, elation filling her body as she saw the older man's smile.

"Please, do not worry." The doctor gave her a reassuring touch on the shoulder. "It all went very well. It was as a textbook. He is recovering now and will be asleep for some time. As soon as you can see him a nurse will take you to him."

She let out the breath she didn't realize she was holding and closed her eyes. "Thank Merlin...thank you, Doctor Hauser."

"Thank Merlin and trust in God, he is very young and healthy. You may see him soon. Until then, rest." The doctor turned to the crowd that had assembled behind his patient's wife. He smiled at all the expectant faces and, sensing Alice's desire to tell them the good news, simply gave them all a 'thumbs up' gesture, turned away and walked down the brightly lit hospital corridor.

"Alice?" Ginny Potter pushed past her husband and went to her daughter-in-law's side. "Did the doctor..."

"It went well, 'textbook' according to the doctor. He's resting, we can see him soon." Her breathing had returned to somewhat approaching normal, but the thread of worry still wound itself around her brain. "Soon. We can see him soon."

-ooo-

Tuesday, 4 May, 2032

3 Months, 2 days before surgery

The table at the little, out of the way Greek restaurant wasn't very full; only a tenth of the tables were occupied, mostly by Muggle businessmen in their suits talking about whatever it was Muggle businessmen talked about. James didn't care, though, as all he could do was focus on his baklava and coffee, mostly picking at the dessert with his fork, occasionally mustering up the courage to try and get something down. Initially he'd planned on having something to eat, something more substantial, but the nerves were getting to him. Compound that with the fact that his wife was running late and it was almost enough to make him want to stand up and jump up and down on the table just to do something, anything other than wait. There were many things that he was good at, highly proficient, but waiting was not one of them.

Thankfully, though, the door opened and he saw his wife pull off her knit hat, unbutton her coat and make her way over to him. She slid into the booth across from him and took in his state immediately.

"We don't have to do this, you know."

He shook his head quickly back and forth. "Oh no, now or never. Just the first step, really."

The waiter came over and Alice opted only for a cup of tea. Before you could say 'Helga Hufflepuff hates horrible hairstyles' three times fast the cup sat in front of her. She declined to order any food, and once the waiter had disappeared she reached over, took James' fork and took a bite of the baklava. She chewed thoughtfully, finally looking her husband in the eye. "It's not that bad, the layers..."

"The hell with the layers, Allie." He nervously tapped his fingers on the table. "We're supposed to be there in a half hour. Audrey said..."

"Jamie." She looked over at him intently. "I know what Audrey said, I was there when you talked to her. Your aunt is a...medical professional."

"I just don't want to be late" he snapped. After a few moments he closed his eyes momentarily and then opened them up. "Sorry. Bit on edge."

"Obviously. Understandably." She took a sip of tea. "We'll be there in a flash, let me have a bit of tea and we can go. Long day out in Poole."

He didn't say anything, only nodded in response and began looking around the room, scanning everything but seeing nothing, tapping his fingers on the windowsill until he felt her kick him slightly under the table. "Sorry."

She pushed her tea towards the table, wiped her mouth with the napkin and sat in next to the mostly-empty plate of baklava. "Let's go, I can tell you're in a state." Knowing her husband she held up a hand to avoid his comments. "And I don't blame you, love.

They arrived at St. Mungo's with time to spare, unfortunately for James, as patience was not his strong suit. It wasn't that he was unfamiliar with the place lately, he'd been there for all of Alice's checkups and had been a much better student than he'd ever been at Hogwarts. He'd even been reading the What to Expect When Your Witch is Expecting book that Simon had given him, telling him that it would save him a lot of bother with the healers not to mention his wife. He'd joked that he'd give it back to Simon the next time Rosie was pregnant, but Simon waved him off, called him a 'wanker' and said he was a pro at it by now. St. Mungo's wasn't usually a place that made him nervous lately, but today? Today was off the charts. The meeting wasn't for a few more minutes but he couldn't wait and started moving Alice along.

"James, really? I know I don't walk that fast anymore..."

"Sorry, sorry."

He nodded and slowed his pace until they made it to the lift. Once they were inside he pushed the button, the lift seemed to take forever to close the doors and even his repeated mash of the Close Doors button didn't hurry it along enough. Finally, though, they were at the right floor. He'd been to his Aunt Audrey's office a few times, mostly tagging along with his mum or someone when planning Percy's annual surprise birthday party, but this time it was different. It was personal. Personal and quite frightening.

He knocked on the door and opened it, sticking his head inside without waiting for an answer. "We're here."

"Oh, you're early." Audrey sat at her desk and sat down a folder of parchment. "Please, have a seat. The expert I've called in hasn't arrived yet, but he should be along momentarily." She smiled warmly and glanced over to Alice, just entering the office. "And how are you lately, Alice?"

Alice shrugged and sat down in a chair across from Audrey's desk. "All right, most days. Can't stand the sight or smell of roast beef and treacle tart makes me want to vomit just thinking about it, but other than that..."

"She gets tired easily. And she's a bit more cranky." James raised an eyebrow at his wife. "But I'd say she's doing wonderfully."

Audrey chuckled, her blue eyes shining. "Yes, I ran into Healer Berfic at the canteen the other day and she mentioned that you were doing quite well." An uneasy silence fell over the office which was thankfully broken by a soft knock at the door. "Ah." Audrey assumed a more serious expression. "Right on time. Come in."

James turned slightly in his seat expecting...well, expecting someone like Healer Berfic, the slightly scary maternity Healer. What he absolutely did not expect was to see the pale, balding figure of Draco Malfoy in a dark Muggle suit and tie. As Audrey and Alice greeted him James couldn't quite manage the words.

Thankfully, he didn't have to, as Draco took out his wand and conjured a chair. Once he sat down he turned to James and Alice. "I can tell by the expression on your face, Mr. Potter, that I am quite possibly the most unlikely expert you expected regarding your consultation. I apologise for the shock, but I believe my experience in such matters as this have placed me in, shall we say, a position of expertise."

"Uh...um..." James looked over to Alice and felt comforted when she gave him a small nod and took his hand. "Ok."

Draco took that as a sign to continue. He clasped his hands together and sat back in the chair. "You are familiar, of course, of my wife's condition. She has been confined to a wheelchair not long after Scorpius was born. I won't go into the details on how it came about, but as a married man you will understand why I have made it my life's work to look for a cure." He paused for a moment, in reflection, eyes closed, and then focused on James. He saw that the boy understood what he meant, so he continued. "I doubt that you would have heard of one of my companies, DAS Enterprises, as it mostly focuses on Muggle healing equipment. They are a Muggle company to any and all that would wish to research the company for investment purposes, but there is a part of the company that is comprised of the best witches and wizard Healers, tasked with incorporating Muggle techniques and magic. Needless to say, spinal injuries are a focus of the company. We've had some rather breathtaking advancements, some of them marked down as Muggle science, while in fact it is a combination of magical research along with Muggle science."

Audrey nodded at him and looked over to James and Alice. "There are a few medical professionals around the world that utilise magic and Muggle medicine, using the equipment that DAS Enterprises supplies." Her tone shifted to one of disdain. "Unfortunately here in the UK we are not as advanced as some other countries. St. Mungo's is currently conducting 'trials' of the equipment and techniques but does not allow them as it involves more Muggle healing than they are comfortable with at this time."

"Germany." Draco nodded. "Germany is rather advanced regarding spinal surgery and yes, Mr. Potter, it is surgery. Skele-Gro is not the answer to everything. The procedure would be a surgery, where the surgeon would make an incision in your back to access the damaged area. Then, with the equipment my company manufactures, the surgeon would be able to repair the vertebrae with a combination of magic and Muggle techniques."

James looked over at his wife, searching her face for some kind of sign. He could plainly see that she was worried, but there was something else...hope. He turned back to Draco. "Has this been done before? Did it work?"

Draco nodded. "Yes, it has been successfully completed several times. I have taken the liberty of sending over case files to Healer Weasley." He turned to Audrey. "I apologise, they will arrive later today. I was away on business on the continent and would have sent them earlier."

Audrey waved him off. "Quite all right, Mr. Malfoy."

Alice's foot had been tapping for a while and she finally couldn't take it. "What are the risks?" She searched Draco Malfoy's face, hoping he wouldn't tell her that her worst fear would be realised.

Draco eased his shoulders a bit, as he knew what Alice wasn't saying. "It is nothing like my wife's situation, Mrs. Potter. Based on the previous cases, all of which were successes, the worst case scenario would be that your husband would simply remain as he is currently. There would be no hope of a Quidditch career going forward but otherwise he would simply continue as he is today."

Alice felt James' hand in hers and knew what his decision would be; she also knew that he wouldn't do anything if she didn't support him. She thought back to how he looked at that Puddlemere blazer in the wardrobe and how her heart broke for him. When he did retire from Quidditch she wanted it on his terms, and if the surgery wasn't a success they couldn't sit there years later and wonder 'what if...' She looked up and focused on Mr. Malfoy's grey eyes. "What's the next step?"

Draco raised an eyebrow and turned to Audrey. "He would need to authorise the release of his files, as a preliminary step, correct?"

Audrey nodded and pulled a piece of parchment out of a drawer of her desk. "James, you'd need to allow the release of your files to the other hospital, and then we would coordinate scheduling an initial examination visit. From there it's up to the other hospital." She turned to Draco. "Which..."

"Heidelberg University Hospital." Draco's response was almost instantaneous. "Dr. Hans Hauser. He is a wizard who trained as a Healer and then went into Muggle medicine. He is the man who I would trust with my own family."

James let out a breath that he didn't realise that he was holding and gripped Alice's hand a bit tighter. Looking directly at Draco he nodded. "Thank you."

-ooo-

6 September, 2032

Potter Manor, One Month After Surgery

Alice was sitting in her favourite chair by the fire, trying to learn how to knit. She'd never wanted to learn before, but lately, with the pixies turning somersaults in her stomach to let her know that they would be arriving soon, she had decided to do something 'motherly' and learn to knit so she could have blankets for them when they arrived. She'd made her husband's grandmother very happy with that owl, writing about giving her lessons. She'd felt like she done a good thing, as it would give big Molly something to do and an excuse to come see how her grandson was healing, but as she messed up and dropped yet another stitch she was reconsidering her idea.

"It's quite all right, dear, not a problem at all." Molly leaned over from her chair and took Alice's knitting needles. "We'll just undo this row..."

"The entire row?" Alice sank back in her chair and put her hands on her stomach. "Oooh."

Molly gave her a glance while undoing the woefully put-together knitting. "Babies acting up, are they? It is difficult, having two at once. Poor Arthur had to be mum and dad when I was with the twins, Healer had me on bed rest the last two months. She was quite the Healer, very experienced."

Alice bit her lip slightly to keep from laughing, as Molly's difference of opinion with her maternity Healer was something of a family joke. "I'm fine, really. Just a bit uncomfortable."

Molly nodded but continued to undo Alice's knitting. "And where is James today? Should he be up and around?"

"He's in London, and yes, Molly, it's fine. He's been doing his physical therapy. Bringing on Olive as an assistant was one of the best decisions we've made...do you know she was trained as a Healer's assistant? Besides helping with the day-to-day things she's been putting James through his paces."

"She's a nice girl, you're very lucky. But why is James in London?"

"He got an owl from his agent. I'm not sure what it is, something with Puddlemere. I'm sure it's nothing."

"Nothing to be worried about, not after everything that's happened." She handed Alice back the knitting needles and sat back in her chair, picking up her own needles and starting again almost without looking at the yarn. "Are the Healers quite sure that he's recovered? Enough for Quidditch?"

"One hundred percent. I made sure of that." Alice concentrated on her knitting for a few minutes but then gave it up as a bad job and sat it down on her stomach. "I had them do the tests four times. The Healer seemed put out when I asked the third time but then, well, I'm not proud of this, but I dropped Harry's name."

"Really?" Molly hurriedly contained her smile. "And how did that go?"

"Not very well, but in so many words I made it plain that Harry would not take it well if the Healer botched things. Might have said something about the papers making it a big story."

This time Molly couldn't contain her laughter as a small chuckle escaped. "Don't feel bad, dear, I know Ginny has pulled the same thing several times. Wife's prerogative, especially with all the things you two have to put up with."

-ooo-

Meanwhile, in London, things weren't going as well. James paced around his agent's office shaking his head. He'd thought it would all be just a quick bit of parchment shuffling, a few signatures here and there and then he'd be cleared to sign on again with Puddlemere. The first five minutes were as usual with Rupert, as the old wizard inquired about his health, Alice's health, the usual. Then the boom dropped. He stopped pacing and turned to his agent.

"Are you sure Rupert?"

The old wizard nodded. "I'm afraid so, my boy. Part of the contract for all Quidditch players, it's a standard clause. Since you officially retired, did all the paperwork, and Puddlemere paid out the 'catastrophic injury' settlement, I'm afraid you can't play for them. You'd have to pay back the injury settlement, with interest, but beyond that they don't have an opening. Signed a young woman out of California, believe it or not."

James raised his eyes to heaven. "This can't get any worse."

Rupert cleared his throat.

"Bloody hell, Rupe, are you telling me it gets worse?"

After stroking his rather impressive beard Rupert motioned for James to sit down. "Take a chair, son, you'll wear out my carpet and in the state you're in I wouldn't be surprised if you had a bit of uncontrollable magic. Hate to have my office destroyed before I officially retire."

James sat down quickly. "Wait a tic, you're retiring?"

"James...Jamie, my boy, I've been retired. I only came back when I got your owl about your surgery, working on your contract, to see what I could do. I'm touched to think that you feel that's bad news, but...the league office was quite clear on its ruling. I petitioned the League to have you reinstated as an active player, but they are afraid it will set a precedent, players retiring with full benefits and then un-retiring." He saw James' face fall and leaned forward. "But it isn't all bad news, my boy. The ruling is you can't play in the British and Irish league this year. This year." He paused to let that sink in. "Yes, Jamie, as of next year you would be able to sign with any club that would have you, but for this year, well, I'm afraid it can't happen. That doesn't mean there aren't other options."

James ran a hand through his hair. "Options, options...options sound good. What are my options?"

Rupert clasped his hands together and sat them on his desk. "The league has no precedent regarding the lower division."

"The lower division!" James rolled his eyes. "Rupert, that's just a step above weekend pick-up Quidditch matches! Bloody hell, Hogwarts Quidditch is probably better than that."

"Calm down, listen, can you do that for me?" He waited while James composed himself. "Right then, you know the lower division was created a few years ago to fill a need, training for players who aren't quite at league level. Those meetings when they created the league were something else, you should have heard the Chudley lot when they tried to implement relegation like the Muggle football clubs have...but that's neither here nor there. When was the last time you were on a broom, in a competitive match? That's what I thought. Look at it as an opportunity to get your skills back up to snuff, to realise how much you love the game, and then, when the season's over, you'll have a better idea of where your game is and you'll have your pick of clubs. You're a proven player, James, and before your injury you were at the top of the league for Beaters. Prove that you're back at that level and..."

"Fine, fine, I get it." James slumped in his chair, momentarily forgetting his Healer's instructions. Obviously Rupert had read enough of the Healers' reports as he gave him a glare. "Ok, ok." He straightened up in his chair. "So it's down to the crap league. I guess I can do that. Where in Merlin's name would it be?"

"Well..." Rupert opened a folder and pulled out a piece of parchment. "I've been in contact with several clubs. Pay won't be anything near what you're used to..." He watched James' dismissive glare. "...but I know that's not your concern. I think the main thing, Jamie, will be finding the right fit for you, a manager who won't look at you as their salvation or a ticket draw but will help you get back on form. I've put together a short list." He pushed the parchment across the desk.

James reached forward and picked up the parchment. "I've never heard of most of these."

"Of course not, you've been playing top division Quidditch." Rupert reached forward and put his index finger on one name. "If you want my opinion, as your agent, you'd go here. Manager is a bloke by the name of Ian Peterburn, former Keeper for Kenmare back in the day, long before you or your father was born. Did a bit of coaching for Wigtown before he and the owner had a difference of opinion. Between you and me the owner wanted to run the place and didn't like anyone telling him otherwise, so Peterburn told him to sod off. Been retired for a few years until the lower division started up. Good experience with young players, knows his way around a top division side, and I think if anyone can help you out it's him."

James sighed and looked at the name. "I have no idea whatsoever where the bloody hell Morsgail Forest is, never heard of it."

"Closer to your house up in Scotland than Puddlemere. Morsgail Forest is on the Isle of Lewis. Bit cold and rainy, but I'm sure you're used to that, living up in the highlands."

"Godric, Allie's gonna love that, sitting out in that weather. Maybe I can get the owner to let her into the box."

Rupert chuckled. "Afraid not, son, this isn't the big league, no owner's box. Bit like Hogwarts, all open air. Bracing is the word they use."

"Wonderful." James sat back. "So now what?"

"Well..." Rupert picked up another piece of parchment. "I thought things might go this way so I took the liberty of owling Petersburn. If you want we can pop over there, you can go through your paces on your broom and I can have a chat with their business manager. If things go like I think they will you can go home to that lovely wife of yours and tell her you're a professional Quidditch player again."

-ooo-

It was almost dark when James arrived back at Potter Manor. He'd just stepped out of the Floo and brushed off the Floo powder when Mrs. Fraser came out, wiping her hands on her apron, and gave him a dirty look. He quickly looked around to see if he'd missed any excess Floo powder, and not seeing any, turned back to her. "What?"

"Mmmph. Leaving that lassie all alone here all day, none 'cept your Granny here trying to teach the poor girl to knit."

"Oh for the...look, Mrs. Fraser, I didn't expect to be gone this long but I'm sure she's fine. She pretty much shooed me out of the house today!"

"Mmmph." Mrs. Fraser gave him a withering look and wandered back off towards the kitchen.

"Grumpy old witch, telling me what to do." He muttered as he went up the stairs, figuring that Alice would be in 'her' lounge, the room that she liked the most, the one with the giant fireplace and the family pictures. He was right, as when he opened the door the fireplace was roaring, her head was visible partially above the sofa and her feet, in garish purple and orange striped woolen stockings, were propped up on the footstool.

"I'm home." He went over and sat down next to her, giving her a kiss and then kissing her belly. "Did you do something to Mrs. Fraser? She gave me an earful when I got in."

Alice rolled her eyes. "Don't get me started. I know she means well, but...James she made me the most horrid lunch ever. Said it was 'proper for someone expecting' but I've never had a stew like that in my life. Don't know what she put in it but the smell just about made me run for the loo. And she just stood there until I took a few spoonfuls. It was all I could do to keep it down. I had Jolly fix me something later." She turned to him expectantly. "So what did Rupert say?"

"Well..." James rubbed a hand over his stubble and then launched into it, giving her the blow by blow. He watched as her face went through all the expressions, finally ending on a hopeful note when he told her about Ian Peterburn and Morsgail Forest.

"And what happened?"

He shrugged. "I'm rusty, not fit for Puddlemere, not yet. Rupert was right on that part, but old Ian's a good manager, that was easy to see. To be honest I didn't do more than a few drills, flew about a bit, then did a bit of work with a couple of their Beaters and Chasers. After that, though, well...we talked. He did a lot of listening, which I took as a good sign, and then he asked me questions, about my rehab, what I wanted to do, what I was worried about, you know, the injury, and then told me what he expected. He doesn't expect me to be in top form right away, which was good, and he didn't promise me that he'd throw me out there right away, which I liked. I know some lower division managers, well, Rupe said, that they'd put me in right away to sell tickets. Ian said he wanted to be sure I would be in proper form before that happened, that he didn't want me to jeapordise my chances for next year. He knows that it's just a one year thing, but...you know how you meet people and just know you can trust them? I trust him, Allie. So I signed the contract. I'm a Beater for Morsgail Forest."

"Oh James!" She threw her arms around him and hugged him tight, somewhat awkwardly with her large stomach. "I was so worried."

"I know, love, I know. You're not the only one."

-ooo-

Ian Peterburn's influence apparently extended to more than the team, as Morsgail Forest did not call a press conference to announce their signing of James Potter. Instead they sent in the transaction to the lower division league office along with their normal paperwork. It did not go unnoticed, obviously, as the media was quick to pick up on it, thankfully a day after they had gone to press.

POTTER ON FUTILE COMEBACK TRAIL was the headline for The Daily Prophet, while Quidditch Weekly was much more subdued. Ginny Potter's desire, while not overtly exercised, was honored by her colleagues as they wrote a decent article explaining the how's and why's of James' signing. PAPA POTTER DESPERATE FOR CASH was the lurid headline from one of the gossip rags, along with other more unseemly articles inferring that James was forced into risking his life to pay for his wife's money pit house restoration company. They never actually said that, but there was no doubt that was what they meant.

James did receive several owls from well-wishers, others from disgruntled Puddlemere fans who were convinced that he was deliberately not playing for Puddlemere, but what surprised him were the letters he received from other professional Quidditch players, some that he'd never even spoken to before. They, more than anyone else, knew the dangers of playing Quidditch and were all uniformly positive and wished him the best, hoping he would have a speedy recovery, a good rest of the season with Morsgail Forest and hoped to see him on the pitch in the British and Irish League next year. He did receive a few teasing letters, but those were from Declan, Fiona and Mione Malfoy. He was glad to read those, as they arrived not long after several scathing letters that he was purposely trying to bankrupt Puddlemere with his injury settlement and it was obvious that he was faking the whole spinal injury.

The injury was on the forefront of his mind when practising, and even though it was hard he stayed on the bench for the first five matches. The press was relentless of their hounding Ian Petersburn, hectoring him on why he hadn't put in Potter, but Ian dismissed them all saying that James would play when he was ready.

And then, in a home match against Bourton-on-the-Water, he finally saw action when the first team Beater took a Bludger against the head and was ruled out of the match with a concussion. As the Healer attended to the man, who wasn't more than a few years out of Hogwarts, Ian came over to him and with a nod sent him onto the pitch.

It was glorious. The weather was shit, rain mixed with a bit of snow, but he didn't care. The wind whipped around him as he rose into the air, the crowd in full throat. His teammates, mostly young kids and a few old-timers hanging on, his teammates knew what it meant to him and almost to a player gave him a smile and a nod. The old keeper, a man who had to be fifty if he was a day, gave him a thumb's up and then he was off. The first Bludger he sent off towards a Chaser went a bit wide but it was as if he'd never left. He was a bit more tentative at first, but when he got slammed into by the other side's Beater his Quidditch instincts just took over and he slammed the man back, shoving him off his line and shot down in a semi-spiral to intercept the opposing Chaser and prevent a score. As he zoomed back into position he realised that he hadn't thought about his injury, he'd just reacted.

In a perfect world Morsgail Forest would have won, but life isn't perfect and Bourton-on-the-Water's Seeker was better than theirs, so the score ended with Morsgail Forest losing by 120. For James, though, it was quite the victory.

-ooo-

30 October, 2032

Potter Manor

James put the last of his things in his duffel bag and looked over to his wife. She'd been getting twinges and pains lately, signs that the books said were signals that it was getting close to the time, but she had been adamant. "Allie, I could stay back..."

"James, we've been over this. I'll be fine." She sat in a chair with her enormous belly and sighed. "With everything we went through I will not have you miss a match just because I'm having a few contractions. They're erratic and not regular. You'll be back tomorrow. Now go and show Puddlemere what idiots they are for that stupid rule."

He clucked his tongue in his mouth and stared at her. "If you're sure..."

"I'm sure. Besides, if anything happens, and it won't, you'll be the first to know. Do you think Mum or your mum will let that happen without you being there?"

James rolled his eyes, as Hannah and Ginny had been stopping over more and more lately, especially when he had an away match. "Who's on Pregnant Patrol tonight?"

"Arse. Mum is, she's coming over in a few minutes. Now go, or you'll be in trouble. I don't want Ian benching you because you're late. Go, go!"

"Fine, fine, I'll go. But if anything happens..."

"Goodbye, James."

He gave her a kiss, picked up his bag and headed towards the Floo. On the way he found Wally, sleeping in front of the fireplace. He knelt down and petted the wolfhound's massive head. "Listen, Wally, I'm counting on you. She's being difficult so I want you to stay with her, ok? Anything happens and go get old Alec, right?"

The dog looked at him as if it understood, licked his face, and then got up and trotted off to go find Alice.

"Least the dog listens to me." He got in the Floo and threw down the powder. "Morsgail Forest Players Entrance."

Luckily he wasn't the last one to arrive, as one of the Chasers barely made it in time for the portkey. As they stood around in a circle, holding the rope, the Beater next to James move over to let someone else in the circle.

"How's she doing, then?"

James looked up to see his manager take the rope and look at him. "Cranky as a dragon, won't listen to reason, nothing makes her comfortable and insistent that I come tonight instead of stay home with her."

Ian Petersburn chuckled. "Yeah, it's about time. With my two the wife was the same way, couldn't tell her anything, everything I did was wrong but then, when you hold your child in your hands it's all worth it." He paused for a moment. "Listen, Potter, I've got the PR lot on standby. They get any word about your wife we'll let you know. Don't worry. Babies come when they're good and ready, nothing changes that. Just play your game and let us take care of the rest." The rope began to glow a soft blue and then the Morsgail Forest Quidditch team was gone, popping back into existence at the visiting team portkey site at the Llawhaden United stadium.

The moment they arrived it was all business, players going off to the lockers to get ready, chatting with each other, doing their pre-match rituals, but for James it was all off. He didn't want to be there. He'd wanted nothing more than to be able to play Quidditch again, after his injury, but now, now that he had what he wanted he just wanted to be with Alice. He sat down in front of the battered locker and started undressing, pulling his kit out of the locker and turned to say something to Dec and stopped, realising for the umpteenth time that it wasn't Declan McLeod next to him but a Chaser named Danny who was just out of Hufflepuff. He really wished it was Declan next to him as he could have used some of Dec's wonderful inanity, that always got his mind off of things like the stress of big matches, but instead all he could think of was that Dec was kilometers away as Puddlemere was playing Wigtown that night, Alice was kilometers away up at the manor and he was in Wales. He took a quick look at the clock; almost seven, time for warmups soon. Hopefully it would be a quick match and he'd be home in an hour, in case anything happened.

It wasn't a quick match, not by a long shot. As the third hour started he wondered if he should just say the hell with it, shoot off and grab the Snitch as both Seekers couldn't find it if the Snitch was their arse and they had a Point Me spell. He'd seen the bloody thing at least five times. The weather was shit, both sides were playing like shit but at least he'd found an outlet for his irritation as his Bludgers were spot on and forceful.

By the fourth hour he was despairing that the match would ever end. The Snitch was nowhere in sight, he hadn't seen the bloody thing for at least an hour, and the Chasers were flagging. The only good thing was that the other Beater, a bloke named Higgins, seemed to finally have caught on and had fallen into a good rhythm with him, they'd been able to complete a few two-person maneuvers that the kid had trouble with in practise, but now it was finally clicking. The Llawhaden Chasers were flying with fear for their Bludgers, spaces were opening up for the Morsgail Forest Chasers and they were scoring like crazy. The score was well out of hand, they were up by 390 points, and even if Llawhaden's Seeker did manage to catch the Snitch it wouldn't matter. Hell, even if old man Keeper flew down and took a nap it wouldn't matter, he hadn't been busy in ages.

With the action taking place somewhat further down the pitch than his area James hovered a bit and stretched his back, thankful that all those horrible hours of tedious physical therapy had paid off. Four plus hours on the broom and he'd never had any twinge or pain except the normal ones of being in a match that lasted forever. He was sure that if the damned thing went another two hours he'd be fine, after a nice long soak in the tub, but it wouldn't be because of his injury, just the regular aches of Quidditch.

He felt fine, that's why when the flash for substitution came up and it was his number he was surprised and a bit angry. He'd been playing great! Why pull him now? He flew down as the substitute went up, landed, and went over to Ian.

"Why'd you pull me Ian? I'm fine, my back's fine, really. Did you see Higgins, he finally got the..."

Peterburn smacked him on the arm. "Shut the hell up, Potter. We got the call. She's in St. Mungo's."

"Merlin's socks, pants and underwear! Holy shit." James started breathing heavily. "Is there..."

"It's all arranged, portkey's standing by at your locker, equipment manager's got it. Go, Potter! Go!"

He let the broom fall away and sprinted off towards the locker room, ignoring the shouts of the fans and well wishes from his teammates. Flinging the door open he saw the equipment manager holding out a practice Quaffle. He grabbed it and waited but nothing happened. "How long..." And then the portkey activated and he was whisked away.