I would like to acknowledge my reviewers, inktree, ngayonatkailanman, Brilliantseeker, and Computercatastrophe2. Thanks very for the responses.

I should also take this time to acknowledge some of my ficcy influences. Mistful's "Nineteen Years Later; OR, The Kids Are Alright" is the only "epilogue" generation fic I could ever stand to read twice; it's simply BRILLIANT. No, I don't agree with all her interpretation, and it's shot through with interview canon now, but it doesn't matter, it's zippy and hilarious and fun and even touching. Her Draco is not my Draco, but she convinced me to finally give a damn about him ("Just that I'm a coward. But you already knew that.") And, since I've fallen in love with her Albus and Scorpius, I really can't write either of them any other way anymore.

Then there's also, on a much more minor scale, "Of Pride and Prejudices" by aramintalupin. I barely skimmed the whole thing -- I never did bother to keep track of the various Viktor-and-Lavender figures, and all the stuff involving Teddy was cringingly bad -- but it totally changed my characterisation of Victoire, so it needs acknowledgment. Emma-ish!Victoire seems very logical to me now, considering her background.

And I've just realised I am playing with a very similar trope to that found in Hyphen's classic Marauder fic, "The Speculum Curse," and there will even be a homage line in this fic recognising the fact. Brownie points for whoever spots it.


Chapter 2 -- It's a Family Matter

Harry immediately fired off a message to the lowly junior night staff at the department, ordering them to ready his emergency trip to Kavala. It would require lots of planning, rerouting, and arguing with customs officials, which was what a lowly junior night staff was for.

He also felt no compunction about sending the message via the old Order method. This was an emergency, and if his famous stag Patronus was likely to get the quickest results, then Patronus it would be.

But, now that Harry understood the crisis, he felt dread rather than panic. Therefore, instead of barging into the Ministry himself and pacing madly, he was willing to make a quick detour before setting off.

Draco Malfoy met him at the door, with his usual wariness.

"No, they haven't set off yet. Out back." He indicated the yard with his head. "Is there something wrong, Harry?" he asked stiffly.

"No. Yes. James -- "

"Ah," nodded Draco. "Say no more."

"Yeah, thanks," said Harry, with real gratitude. He marched through the foyer, kitchen, and conservatory to the back porch.

This was not, of course, Malfoy Manor. It was about a tenth the size. Harry had done much to ensure that none of the family actually went to Azkaban after the war, but he had not felt the faintest twinge of conscience about huge fines that had eaten most of their fortune. In fact, he and his friends agreed that there was something annoying about the Malfoys' ability to bounce back. Draco was far too comfortably well off for someone supposed to be supporting his wife, son, and parents on a Healer's salary.

That Draco was a Healer would have been a great joke in the Potter-Weasley clan, if anyone had found a way to make it funny instead of bizarre.

Al and Scorpius, the inseparables, were trying to fold up their tent in some sort of order. Albus appeared to be doing most of the work, talking a mile a minute, while Scorpius did what he did best, which was to lounge about, looking superior and bored.

Harry always refused to let his mind make the obvious connection when it came to Malfoy's son.

" -- and when you think about it, Score, that's the moment goblin-wizard relations really hit the point of no return. I mean we always think it was -- oy! Dad!" Albus beamed. "What's up? Are you coming with us after all?"

Scorpius said nothing, though Harry distinctly caught an oh, God, no look crossing his pointed face.

"I'm afraid not, Al. Can I have a word with you?" Albus waited expectantly, with perhaps a touch of defiance behind the expectation. Harry hid a sigh. "It's a family matter."

Albus considered this. "Okay."

Harry felt Scorpius's grey eyes fixed on their backs as they walked off several steps so that Harry could explain, in an undertone, where he was heading and why.

Al's expression went stony at the mention of James, and Harry knew what the answer to his question would be even before he asked it.

"I've already got plans," said Al, in a would-be airy tone. "I'm not breaking them just because James is acting up. 'S not like it's anything new, is it?"

"I think he's more than just acting, Al," said Harry. "Teddy wouldn't have worried us if James was just being James." A pause. "Al. I'm not quite sure what to expect of your brother when I go down there, but I think that, whatever it is, having you around would be a big help."

Albus's jaw locked. Harry eyed it incredulously. Everyone always said how alike the two were, in looks and mannerisms, but surely he himself hadn't looked like such a stubborn prat at sixteen.

"No," he said flatly. "He's not my brother."

"You may not be great pals just now," said Harry, no change in his quiet tone, "but he's still your brother."

"I already told you, he's not a part of my life anymore. And it's been loads better ever since."

"Al."

"If he's gone spare enough to do something really mental, like apologize, you can let me know. But I'm not holding my breath." Albus waved a hand. "I've got a tent to pack. Good luck, Dad."

Harry watched him, hands stuck in the pockets of his robes. Albus did not talk until after Harry Disapparated to the Ministry, and Scorpius did not prod him.

He knew there was no real chance that Albus wouldn't tell Scorpius everything, but he held out hope that he would keep the family silence around dear old Draco, at least.