A/N: JAMES WAS AND WOULD HAVE BEEN A GREAT DAD FIGHT ME (no don't actually)


"He's been holed up in his room all afternoon," Lily says in greeting, fingers drumming on the counter next to a takeout menu. He can practically smell their usual Thursday night pizza.

"I knew we should've waited 'til I could come too."

Lily sighs and peeks into the living room where Evie and Alfie sit in front of the telly, still enraptured by the cartoonish images as they flicker past. "Didn't help that he couldn't come to the game with you today."

"Game was shite anyway," James grumbles, "I think Harry could've found the snitch faster."

"It's almost like his dad has been training him since before he could crawl," Lily says with a roll of her eyes, but she sobers, "I tried to talk to him but - "

He presses a kiss to her forehead and sends her a lopsided grin, "But I'm the specky git in this relationship."

The doorbell rings and James can already taste the pepperoni, but Lily shoos him toward Harry's room. "I'll handle this - you go."

Knocking twice, James pushes into Harry's room and finds him lying face down on the bed. No one ever said Potters neglected opportunities for drama. "What's up, mate?"

Harry sighs into the bedclothes and turns his face to the side. "You know very well dad. You and mum aren't as stealthy as you think."

"My detention to mischief ratio says differently," James says lightly, throwing his over-robes over Harry's cluttered little desk chair in the corner and kicking his shoes off. "Glasses aren't the end of the world, Harry."

"I look like a bug."

"It's a thing that happens to all Potter men, you know," James says, softer as he settles on the bed near Harry's hip.

"Turning into a bug?"

James snorts, "No, smart ass. The eyes."

Sniffling a bit, Harry props himself up and swipes at his nose with the sleeve of his jumper. "Yeah?"

"Yeah - and I'll tell you another thing," James begins, wriggling his way to lie next to Harry on the bed, rearranging the pillows a bit beneath his head, "The Ballycastle seeker could've used a pair today."

Eyes lighting, Harry props himself on James' chest. "Yeah? Never liked Limpet."

James grabs the already grubby glasses from the night stand and slips them on to Harry's nose, quirking a brow when Harry's face contorts. "It was a bloody mess. Tell you over a slice?"