NOTE: The problem with figuring out how to continue a story after you've started posting it (at least for me) is that sometimes, life (nothing bad, just normal life) rears its ugly head and progress slows to a crawl. As a side note, this is why I usually complete a story before beginning to post it. I'm a chapter ahead now, and hoping that the following chapters come more quickly than the next two. Thank you for your patience!

The Minister for Magic's office was perhaps even more formally intimidating than the Prime Minister's office, James thought as he and Crispian Paddington were ushered in for their appointment with Minister for Magic Millicent Bagnold.

Then again, James mused, magic made almost anything possible - including an opulent office. He only hoped Moneypenny would forgive him for going to the Ministry rather than the Daily Prophet - and that the Ministry would be more cooperative than the Prophet.

He was jerked from his musing by the minister's secretary introducing him. He shook Bagnold's hand and took the moment to survey her.

She stood a couple of inches over five feet, with dark hair just beginning to go gray - which probably put her in her mid-eighties, given that she was a witch and therefore somewhat longer lived than nonmagical people - and sharp green eyes over a no-nonsense expression.

Bagnold gestured them to seats, and James settled back in his chair, declining tea when it was offered. Paddington accepted a cup, though, and busied himself with preparing it to his liking, clearly giving James the lead in the conversation.

"So," Bagnold said, "I'm unsure as to what the Prime Minister is concerned about, since I've already answered to the International Confederation of Wizards for possible breaches of the International Statute of Secrecy.

"Yes," James said with mockery that he hoped would be taken for amusement, "by asserting your right to party. The Beastie Boys would be proud."

Bagnold frowned, puzzled. "The who?"

"No, that was-" James cut himself off. "My apologies, I was wandering off track. To answer your question, the Prime Minister is concerned with the lack of substantive reporting on the terrorist calling himself Lord Voldemort. He's requesting a complete copy of all of the relevant files."

Bagnold stared at him. "I beg your pardon?"

James quirked an eyebrow. "I thought I was clear. The Prime Minister wants a complete copy of every file ever opened in any department pertaining to Voldemort, his followers, Death Eaters, and so on."

"That's…quite the request," Bagnold said, looking flummoxed.

"It shouldn't be that difficult," Paddington put in. "There are duplication charms, after all, and the charms to certify the copies are trivial. I'm happy to help with the duplication, if needed."

"The investigation is still ongoing," Bagnold said. "Surely, the Prime Minister wishes to wait until it's completed?"

"I understood he wants a complete copy of what you have so far," James said, "and then to be copied on everything going forward."

"That's-" Bagnold began, then cut herself off with a frown. "He does understand what he's letting himself in for, doesn't he?"

James sat forward, hardening his tone and expression. "He understands, madam, that if the celebrations of his defeat spread into the non-magical world - how much longer would it have been for his terrorists to break into that world if he hadn't been defeated? And yet, you barely notified him of the threat. He is, like Queen Victoria before him, not amused."

Bagnold took a sip of her own tea, grimaced, cast a Warming Charm on it, and then took another sip before she spoke again.

"It will take some time-"

"My colleague and I are prepared to begin work immediately," Paddington said. "As long as a Ministry elf can supply us with tea and sandwiches, I'm certain we can finish the job within a day or two."

Idly, James wondered how Bagnold had become Minister for Magic when she had no poker face to speak of.

"I see," she said slowly, and it was clear she wasn't happy with the situation. "Then I will have my assistant show you to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The bulk of the files are, of course, there."

"Of course," James agreed neutrally and rose to his feet. "Soonest begun is soonest done, so we'll not take up any more of your time, Minster."

*BREAK*

In the end, it took a little over a day to collect all the files, and James suspected it would've taken much longer if the elf the minister assigned to them had been less helpful.

Back at their own office, James helped Paddington arrange the files they'd copied on a large conference table, then sat in on the briefing Paddington gave the analysts from MI-13. Finally, he returned to M's office to update her.

She listened attentively, as she always did. When he finished, she sat quietly for a moment. He could almost feel the intensity of her thoughts.

Finally, she looked up and met his gaze. "Do you believe this will require MI-6's intervention?"

"I think," James said carefully, "that, after what happened in th couple of months ago, we can't be too careful. I also think that Paddington and his people will let us know if they need assistance, but it never hurts to remind them we're available."

M made a slight hm noise. "Thank you for your analysis, 007. What have you heard from Moneypenny? The office isn't the same without her."

No, it wasn't, but James would be damned before he admitted that aloud.

"When we spoke last night, she said the healers are still looking at Harry, but she expected to be home soon."

"Excellent," M said. "Keep me informed, both about her and about Paddington's people. Until this situation is resolved, I won't assign you outside the country, or for a long-term assignment. You are instead assigned as a liaison to MI-13, to assist them in any reasonable manner, and to coordinate an anti-magical-terrorist response. Their so-called Lord Voldemort very nearly brought his war to our door, and we wouldn't have been ready for him."

"To be fair, Ma'am," James said, "I doubt anyone would've been ready for that. The magicals certainly weren't."

"We will not be caught unprepared again," M said. "I don't care what it takes to get us ready. Is that understood, Commander?"

"Perfectly, Ma'am."

*BREAK*

Moneypenny's two-day trip to France had turned into a week-long trip to France while healers and specialists cared for Harry, but though James was concerned for Harry's health, he didn't mind the delay. Much. As well as giving Paddington's people plenty of time to analyze the files from the Ministry of Magic, Moneypenny's absence had given him the chance to get a nursery set up for Harry.

Thankfully, M hadn't argued over providing him Moneypenny's address once he explained what he wanted to do. That an MI-13 agent would be involved in setting security measures cemented her agreement.

So James and Gavin Troy, formerly of Causton CID and now with MI-13, had set about arranging Moneypenny's flat to accommodate a child. She had a two-bedroom flat, and Troy turned the second bedroom into a nursery with a little assistance from James.

Now, after a brief telephone conversation with Moneypenny, James waited in the living room of her flat. He didn't know Moneypenny as well as he would like - a situation he was determined to remedy, and sooner than later - but she'd sounded exhausted, if not near tears, so he was determined to make her homecoming as stress-free as possible.

That included having dinner delivered - already done, and sitting on the counter under preservation charms to keep it fresh and at the correct temperature - and the flat fully cleaned.

Troy, the MI-13 agent, helped with that, casting Cleaning Charms with abandon as soon as the alterations to the flat were completed. When James commented on the other man's ease with them, Troy snorted. "You don't know the kinds of muck and mud you end up in investigating cases in a rural county."

James agreed that he didn't, but kept the thought that he'd been in similar, if not worse, situations in Her Majesty's Secret Service to himself.

Apparation, of course, had no scheduled departure or arrival times, but when they'd spoken, Moneypenny said she'd arrive around three, and a glance at his watch told him that it was ten minutes to, so she could arrive at any moment.

Rather than sit and flip idly through the books on Moneypenny's coffee table - both biographies; one of Disraeli and one of Diana, Princess of Wales - James rose and crossed to the kitchen to put a kettle on for tea, as well as a bottle for Harry. The boy was certainly old enough for solid food, but given the healing he'd undergone, a bottle was probably a safer choice.

James was just getting some milk from the fridge when a muted pop of Apparation sounded from the living room and he slid his Walther PPK from its holster before easing the few steps that would let him see into the lounge.

Moneypenny stood there, soothing an only slightly-fretting Harry in her arms. James re-holstered the PPK and moved fully into the lounge.

"Welcome home. The kettle's on."

She looked up with a smile. "It's good to be home. Let me get Harry settled for a nap and then I will gladly have a cuppa."

James followed as she carried Harry down the short hallway to the second bedroom - and stopped in the doorway. Beyond her was what had been her spare bedroom - he couldn't quite think of it as a guest bedroom - but was now a fully-appointed nursery, the walls charmed to show scenes from children's stories and the ceiling painted to resemble a summer sky.

Besides the changing table, cot, and rocking chair, a bookshelf held necessary supplies, picture books and storybooks suitable for bedtime reading. A wardrobe against the near wall held baby clothes for all seasons in Harry's current size plus two more.

If James had ever wanted children, he would have wanted a nursery like this, but that didn't mean Moneypenny felt the same. He supposed he'd find out in a moment or two.

"James?" Her voice sounded shaky.

"Once she heard about your situation, Paddington's wife got involved," James said. "Which is to say she took charge of appointing your nursery. I'm sure you have everything you need, both magical and mundane, for the next year, at least."

She turned slightly, and he was shocked to see her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It's - too much, James, surely-"

He shook his head and smiled - possibly more softly than he had in years. "If you have complaints, talk to Paddington. I told you before, Moneypenny - you're not in this alone. Get the lad settled while I finish the tea."

James brushed a kiss against Harry's forehead and left her to it. He had no doubt he'd learn all the little things associated with caring for a toddler, but for now, he focused on caring for a sudden mother.

A selection of biscuits from a tin and sandwiches from the refrigerator went onto a plate, and by the time Moneypenny rejoined him - Harry presumably having been put down for a nap - James was pouring tea.

"Thank you, James," she murmured, taking the cup from him and sitting at her dining table. He followed her, bringing the plate in one hand and his own cup in the other.

"I saw his scar looks much better," he said, and her scowl cut off whatever else he might have said. He settled instead for, "What happened?"

"That wanker Voldemort-"

Unable to fully conceal his surprise, James blinked. Had he ever heard Moneypenny swear before?

"-made Horcruxes."

He recalled the term from various magical briefings over the years and surprise turned to shock. "Plural?"

"Five. And he meant for Harry to be a sixth - seven being the most magical number, of course."

"Of course," James murmured automatically. Then the rest of what she'd said hit him. "You said he meant for Harry to be a sixth?"

She took a bite of a biscuit and a sip of tea before answering. "The ICW wants to examine the cottage in Godric's Hollow to be sure, but the prevailing theory at the moment is that Lily created a protective ritual charm, with Harry as the focus, that would be triggered by her willing sacrifice for him. That protection, whatever it is, caused the Horcrux ritual to…misfire, as it were. The curse that would have killed Harry killed Voldemort instead, and the remnants of his soul were trapped."

"In Harry's scar," James finished. "But the specialists removed it?"

"Yes." Moneypenny's smile conveyed satisfaction and triumph. "And used it as a focus to track down and destroy the others. Tom Riddle - Voldemort - is well and truly gone. Terminated with extreme prejudice, you might say."

Her smile wobbled, and James matched it with a frown. "Moneypenny?"

"It's just-" she broke off, took a breath, and began again. "Until now, there were things that needed to be done. Now…it's finally hitting home that I have a child to raise. I never thought I'd have that - especially not alone."

James reached over to take her hand where it rested on the table beside her cup. "I've told you before, Moneypenny. You're not alone."

"No - and the nursery is wonderful," Moneypenny assured him. "It's the day-to-day that I worry about."

James heard what she didn't say - that, day-to-day, he and the other 00 agents were out serving Her Majesty in ways that could possibly lead to their deaths. Day-to-day, Moneypenny would be the one dealing with a growing child - a growing, magical child - and that thought daunted her.

James squeezed her hand. "You are Violet Jane Moneypenny, assistant to the director of Her Majesty's Secret Service. You've seen more megalomaniacs trying to bring down Her Majesty's government, or even the world, than I can count. Why should raising a child terrify you?"

She laughed, appearing startled to have done so, and her eyes twinkled with mirth when she looked up at him. "Well, when you put it like that…."