Disclaimer: Same as before.

I woke from a dream like non other; grey eyes following me everywhere, intent and possessive.

It wasn't hard to deduce who's they were, but it still surprised me. I knew better then to start dreaming of a man like that. A man like Scorpius Malfoy would know how to take his pleasure and leave the other party on the floor broken and confused. Hell, rumor was he had gained expert status at it.

"Al?" I heard the question coming through my door.

"I'm up. I'll be ready in ten." Even through the door I heard the snort of disbelief, and swore I would get retribution on James later.

I was as good as my word though, and ten minutes later I was sitting in the morning room eating breakfast.

"The tickets come yet?" I asked after swallowing a mouth full of eggs.

James quietly handed them over for my inspection. He had almost chewed Scorpius Malfoy out last night for the presumption that we would attend the World Cup but in the end though he convinced me that we should throw them all for a loop and go to the game. I was against it, but finally caved after James pleaded, and bribed me into submission. James loved Quidditch, and even though we rarely played I just didnt have the heart to deny him the pleasure of watching a World Cup.

There certainly wasnt the possibilty that James would go alone. The united front of our family was important, and I had a soft spot for this subject since Father couldnt stand the game. After researching into the early morning hours, and finding that Malfoy had indeed spoken truth that our Father had played during his Hogwarts years we assumed it was potentially yet another change Father made for us. Because of us.

I looked down at the tickets again, and noticed who was playing. Shit.

"You realize they will be there?"

James looked up from his plate and shrugged. "You have a desire to speak to any of them?"

I thought about it carefully, and after a few minutes of silence James gave me the look that said clear as day he thought I was over thinking it. Less mistakes that way though. Or less that you blamed yourself for. Bill, his wife, and kids were the only ones I could possibly see myself conversing with. Charlie's family was in Romania still, and the rest we didn't acknowledge. Ever.

"Bill might be there. We can say hello," I answered reasonably.

James nodded. He would go with what I wanted on this. Inside I knew he had more of a desire to know Fred and George since they were a little more like him than our other uncles, but I had no such desire. My father had lost touch with them years ago, and I didn't figure there was any point in creating new boundaries. We would be in England for such a short time anyway, so the status quo was best.

We had good seats I noted, but realized darkly that our box with the Italian minister, and his VIP's, had unfortunate neighbors. Great Britan's Ministry on one side, and players families on the other. Was seeing a game worth it?

"Stop worrying" James said, barely looking up from the prophet. "Seriously, they never dare say anything to us. And even if they tried, we can handle it." Then James got the smile, the one I hated. "Unless it is the young Malfoy who has you worried? Scorpius? Fine ass on that backside."

I snorted. I never knew if I was amused or annoyed when James made such crude comments. My responses just never seemed right, and it never was the response that James seemed to desire out of me.

"I don't do casual one nighters. Unlike some people in this household." I tried looking stern, but failed miserably. My brother tried to look offended but his lips twitched in amusement.

"Please. One, I would never recommend Scorpius Mafloy as a one nighter, or really anything come to think of it. He is far from suitable. Second, just because I'm not a monk doesn't mean I am a casual one nighter type. You will remember that the blonde girl in Italy was a three nighter."

I smirked. "That's the record holder?"

James smiled. "What can I say? I'm a chip off the old block. …wait no that's you. Monks the both of you."

We bantered back and forth while we ate, but I went back to thinking about his comment on Scorpius Malfoy. Why was the man not suitable? Because of his reputation, or status, or his last name? Or none of the above?

Most would say James was easier going then me, but he could be much more of a prude sometimes. And he was actually a little more vindictive then me as well. You crossed James, you never got close to doing it twice; he would ruin you. It was the reason why he was willing to give Fred and George more of chance; they had never done anything to him personally.

Me, I was willing to give people a chance until they did something to me personally, and it had to be unforgiveable. James thought I was too lenient. He didn't say so, but I could see it in his face sometimes. However, I knew others said behind my back that I was just as bad. You hit me hard enough, and not only will I never associate or acknowledge you again, but you'll never get anywhere with anyone who knew. James is fond of telling me that I lack the killer instinct, but I didnt want to be as vindictive. Either method got the point across, and people did not cross our family often.

We ate our breakfast in mutual silence, scooting sections of the Prophet back and forth as usual. The Cup was early which meant leaving even earlier so that security could do their checks. I remembered with a grimace that they had not exactly been thrilled with the abrupt departure from our itinerary, and had likely spent the night canvassing the location. I made a mental note to thank them a few times today, but otherwise decided that most the securuity detail would appreciate being at the Cup once they were there.

James, I noted looked excitedly at his World Cup brochure, while all I could think was today was going to be a hell of a long day.

Merlin, it was crowded I thought, even with our security people standing as a buffer between James, myself, and the rest of the world. James was dressed casually; slacks and a polo, where as I wore charcoal slacks and striped button down.

Neither of us wore the ridiculous face paint that so many fans sported. When our faces made the paper tomorrow, and they would, it would not show anything that would disappoint our father.

We entered the box with a couple of our security people in tow, while the rest fanned out in the stadium, and then said a hello to Nicholas and his family. James and I were actually running early that morning, and were in the box before most of the VIPS.

"Welcome boys!" Nicholas pumped both our hands and introduced his family. "Unfortunately my brother's wife is English so they will be in the next box over. Hopefully you will meet my nephew Liam at some point though. He is a good boy. And of course the Malfoys will join the English minister, who you know well, next door. And I suppose you already know who will be on the other side."

The tone conveyed that he just wanted to warn us if we were completely obtuse. I'm not.

"I am sure we can handle ourselves." I said with confidence. I was introduced to his wife, a lovely women who was more comfortable speaking Italian, and grateful that James and I could carry on a conversation in the language.

I noticed a flash out of the corner of my eyes, and saw that the press were flying around. It's such a shame that they allowed press pictures before games. England had the only stadium that allowed it.

Skeeter was still running articles. I hated her, but knew well enough not to show it.

"Well, if it isn't the Potter-Black men! I'm surprised to see you here, seeing as your father no longer takes in games." She said is sickenly sweet, and I put a hand on James shoulder to restrain him from saying something that would end up with her as an enemy. Not that we weren't already her enemy, but I wouldn't allow it to come out on paper.

Instead I collected my thoughts. "Yes, it is a shame running the Potter-Black Companies takes up so much time."

She smiled coldly obviously pissed I had not taken the bait. I never would. Merlin that would embarrass Father to no end.

"And yet his presumptive heirs find the time to take in such games? Have too much free time on your own hands?"

Now I smiled, and picked up my Italian flag. "Well Ms. Skeeter we reside primarily in Italy, but as you know we were born here in England. We of course want to come see our two home nations compete, and show our support for athletic competition." I waved my little flag in front of her face.

Twist that bitch, I thought smugly. She noticed our security tape-recording the conversation. She wouldn't have the ability to add in any extra words at all.

I smiled even brighter, and pointed to the recorder. "Would you like a copy?"

The bitch shook her head no, and finally flew off to interview her next victim. One day I was going to put that woman out of business.

"Nice job," James whispered to me, and then he returned to his Italian conversation. I gazed out at the crowd that was now filling the stadium. So many people gathered for love of this one sport. I would never truly understand it, but I appreciated it.

There were people already getting into squabbles over their love for different teams; quite pathetic but amusing all the same. To have that much loyalty towards something other then family or friends was baffling, and amusing as hell to watch.

I didn't notice England's Minister box filling until white hair caught my attention. I looked over, preparing myself for to meet Scorpius' gaze, but instead found that of his father's. I had never been so close to Draco Malfoy; his son was almost the spitting image of him. I realized that he was holding my gaze, and resolved to win the staring contest.

Lord Malfoy's gaze wasn't cold; maybe a little shocked. But then, I do look a lot like my father and their' relationship well known. I took my time observing the man. He looked good for his age, especially since he had to be in his mid to late thirties. Draco Malfoy seemed to be every bit the pureblood elitist, but something about his gaze told me that I wouldn't find belief in the purebloo babble in his vocabulary. Finally his gaze tore from mine as the Italian Minister reached over the divider and shook his hand.

I watched Draco Malfoy glance towards me and realized I wasn't going to avoid an introduction to my Father's arch rival.

Instead I straightened and walked the few steps over. I noticed James get up as well, and pointedly include himself.

"Aww here they are." I caught from Nicholas as he turned from his conversation with Malfoy.

"Draco may I introduce Lords James Sirius and Albus Severus Potter-Black. James, Al, this is Lord Draco Lucius Abraxus Malfoy." Draco Malfoy held his hand out, but I noticed James took a hair longer then customary to grab, and pump twice. I felt him release quite quickly, bow, and then sit back down to continue his conversation. He was on the edge of decorum, and I would certainly speak to him later about it.

I made sure that my own handshake was spot on and Lord Malfoy would have nothing to sneer at. I tried to release his hand, but the man simply held onto mine. I glanced down and back up into the gray gaze in question.

Finally he released me. Bloody hell, what was he thinking? Suddenly James' faux pas didn't seem quite so bad.

"You had me startled for a moment. You do look quite a bit like your Father. But then your Father was the mirror image of his. Except for the eyes I'm told." He murmured the last bit, and I wondered if I had entered some alternative universe. Draco Malfoy supposedly loathed my Father. Or at least they were rivals to the highest degree.

Had I gotten that wrong? Or maybe my Father had gotten that wrong? I knew I was looking at the man questioningly, but I really couldn't help myself.

"Yes, I am told that. Though I'm told our personalities match more now in comparison, then they would have when you were at school with him."

I don't know what possessed me to say it. I expected him to laugh, or make some comment that my Father was hotheaded, or too Gryffindor. Something that showed the animosity I always assumed ran two ways.

The man did none of those things though. He looked at me considering, with penetrating gray eyes that flickered from myself towards the turned head of James who was still talking in fluent Italian, though alternating between that and French with some diplomats that had entered the box.

I watched his gaze go soft, and almost sad though only Merlin knew why. The man would probably get along far better with Father now then they ever did in school.

"Yes, well people change. I don't suppose he is here somewhere?"

There again was the idea that my Father had actually enjoyed Quidditch. Of course we researched it, but who knew if he had ever actually enjoyed the game. Sounded to me like he had been pressured into a sport he hated, which wasn't exactly unlikely considering who the headmaster of Hogwarts had been. Was I missing something though?

"No he is not." For some reason I'll never understand I felt the urge to explain. I knew it could be a mistake as I was saying it, but couldn't stop myself. "He hasn't been to a game since I was a toddler."

The man's gaze went from lax, to sharp all at once.

"I'm told he played in school," I laughed now thinking to my Father's opinion of the sport, and all the disgusted grimaces he gave us as we received lessons growing up. "I can't imagine how anyone convinced him to try out. They must have done something, because he despises it. Only for those who have too much time on their hands, lax brains, and their heads in the clouds is his usual mantra."

I realized at once that I had made a mistake. The man looked ill. Not disgusted but physically ill. Still Malfoy didn't look away from me.

"Does he—does he fly at all?"

I thought I had just answered that I thought in confusion. I knew I wasn't giving away any private information by answering since it was at a company picnic that my Father made his feelings duly known.

"No. Father doesn't own any brooms. Used them all as firewood years ago at a company picnic celebrating his first company going public. I mean the first company Father actually started on his own, not the inherited ones."

That had been a huge fire! Some had looked on a little sadly to see, what I am sure were expensive brooms burn and jump up trying to get away from the flames. Their innate magic repelling what was trying to destroy them. But Father cursed them still, and watch every last one burn till there was nothing but ash.

Malfoy turned a shade of green, nodded and then turned around and left the box. Maybe the man liked brooms a little too much? Some people were like that.

When Draco turned away I finally saw Scorpius standing several feet away. He replaced his Father, coming up the the dividing bar with a teasing smile.

"So you made it after all? I didn't get the impression that you liked such games, and yet here you are taking in the Quiditch World cup?"

Merlin, this was the man I dreaming about? I looked into his eyes, and scoffed at myself. They weren't that special and the cockiness that cmae off of him in waves certainly was not appealing.

"Yes, well as my bother stated, we do watch a game now and again. This seemed like a good opportunity before we leave the country." I wanted to get him off the subject. "Did you enjoy the rest of the party last night?"

The man gave a smirk that made me think he was part feral.

"Oh yes, very much. Good food, good service, and in all an excellent evening."

I stared for a moment before I realized that there was definitely double meaning in his answer Did the man really think I cared about his social conquests? It probably would have slipped past most people, but then most people were not as attentive as I. People didn't realize that those in the same social strata seemed to copy cat their language from each other when they were in certain situations, or just being crude.

I fashioned my own smirk, replicating his and adding my own devilment to it.

"Well, I suppose if you needed a quick fuck the waiters and bar staff are always an option. Personally I worry about diseases and such, but since you happen to be such a man about town I am sure you deal. I suppose that is the trade-off if your tastes," I pretended to think for a moment, "run in that particular direction. That and you don't worry about an exclusive on page one that would embarrass your family. Must be marvelous not to worry about embarassing yourself in public."

The man looked like he was choking on his tongue; good. I hid my smile and turned away while he stood there. I knew he'd catch on to the last bit, meaning that while the public at large didn't think he was embarassing himself, I certainly thought he was.

I glanced back once as I seated myself next to James and saw Scorpius smiling at me. What the hell was he smiling at me for? I had just insulted him, his decorum, his values, and possibly his family! The man should be raving mad! Bloody moron.

Merlin, these people were weird!

James looked at me questioningly but thankfully I was saved from interrogation by the start of the match. I have never been so thankful to see Quidditch players in my life.

They flew around and people screamed the team names in good fun. Nicholas asked at one point if we wanted to meet the teams later, however I replied no for both of us. We had once, and that was a disaster. Note for the future: never attempt to meet and have a conversation with someone that your dearest biological mother fucked while still married to your father. It's awkward.

I watched attentively, while James watched in rapture he could not disguise at the various moves and high speeds of the players. It was times like these that I could see my brother loved the game, but it's only at these times he's free to really watch and pay attention knowing that no one would out him to Father. Not that there would be any problem if they did, but it wasn't something that James' wanted reaching Father's ears.

Three hours later Britan's team won, and we could finally leave. Thank god for that! I was amused by the game for a while, but it certainly didn't last. I turned to my left to offer concillatory handshakes to the Italians in the booth, and caught sight of red hair filling the box next to us. They were all cheering since Ronald would probably get coach of the year after this win. Covertly, as I shook hands, I watched them.

Our biological mother seemed to be absent. Not that I minded her in the least. I had faced off with her a couple times and I was never scared of her, and each time I walked away thankful to have my Father. Ronald's wife was present however. A woman that at one time supposedly had been my Father's best mate, but in the fall out had chosen the other side. The couple obviously had children our age from what I could see, though I had never met them. At least now I knew why my Father never allowed Hogwarts to be among the schools we attended. Not that I really cared, or remembered them. I would have researched them if I had.

Our biological grandparents were among the group as well. Again, people that I didn't remember, and didnt want to know. I always found it funny that the whole family, including grandchildren, had red hair but James and I had escaped it. Was is a sign from the Gods or nature that we really were never intended to be part of that family? The rest of the group was obviously made up of our other cousins, uncles, and other players' families.

They seemed to enjoy celebrating quite loudly; jumping up and down with little to no poise. Class and manners were evidently missing in my opinion. I don;t consider myself a snob but for Merlin's sake, I wanted to tell them to have some self respect!

When all the hands were shaken I moved towards the aisle to leave, with following James behind me. The aisle was unfortunately parallel to the team box that held the Weasley's and it didn't take but a moment of me facing them head on for one red head to do a double take and the rest to all follow suit.

These people were a cult I decided with no little amusement.

As I made the turn to go up the steps a hand reached out to me and touched my arm. I looked down and mentally prepared myself to face my blood family. For some reason James always found this easier then me. Why was that?

I looked up into Hermione Granger-Weasley's brown concerned eyes. I didn't want to see their' warmth directed at me. Father would want me to be polite and uncaring I reminded myself. I wouldn't not go against that or disappoint him.

She seemed to notice me taking breathes to steady my temper, and smiled in attempt to ease the tension. I removed her hand from my arm and raised my brow in question. I certainly was not going to be the first to speak.

"Hi Al." she spoke hesitantly but all I could think was that she used my nickname. What right did she have?

I could feel tension at my back and knew James was pissed. I didn't blame him, but I was the one most likely to stay calm. What was I supposed to say to this woman? I had planned it in my head a few times, but now I couldn't decide and my heart was racing.

"I know," she started, "you probably don't remember me, but I—" she trailed off glancing to my right, and into Nicholas' and Uncle Neville's faces. I mentally breathed a sigh of relief. I had no idea where Uncle Neville had come from but the man was a God send.

Uncle Neville was always calm and more then often right about anything he did or said. I always felt like a child around him, but it was the one time I actually liked it because he provided security. He would never let anything happen to James or I.

Uncle Neville moved passed Nicholas who was next to me, and put his arm on the railing so he was perpendicular to the rest of us.

"Boys, its getting quite crowded out there, and I am sure your security team would like to leave now. We're having a barbeque at our estate so they can take you there if you are so inclined."

I nodded, as though he had made it a question, but really I was grateful. Our Uncle's home was always a reprieve and a time to decompress, which I was certain James needed.

I glanced once more at the red heads, taking in their faces. Some seemed angry, others indifferent, and some sorrowful. I told myself not to care. There was no reason to care about these people. Hermione Granger-Weasley was among those with complex emotions. She looked both sad and angry at my Uncle. Not that I blame her in that respect since he had foiled her attempt to speak to us.

As I walked up the stairs I felt my Uncle's comforting hand on my shoulder, and was sure he did the same to James.

Once we reached outside the box there were some reporters to deal with, but they were fended off by my Father's security. I always thought he over did it, but times like this I appreciatedthe shear number of personnel buffering us from the rest of the world. It took but a second to see that the team was also buffering us from two platnum haired men, who were staring at us intently.

"This way Al." Andrew, our head of security directed me, as I did a double take. He was always with my Father.

"He knows?" I whispered as we walked past the other VIP boxes.

Andrew only smiled.

"Of course he knows. Sometimes I don't think you realize just how much your Father knows, or understands. Either of you. And no he isn't angry or disappointed or any of those thoughts you have in your head right now Asp."

Asp, it was the nickname that only Andrew used for me, and had since I was four. I calmed down though and just climbed down cases of stairs, letting the security look out for me, for once. I was too tired to be looking around for trouble too.

Andrew seemed to know my father better then almost anyone, and his statements usually confused me.

I seemed to be in a perpetual state of confusion now a days though.

I looked from Hermione Granger-Weasley to the boys, as soon as I entered the box. What was she thinking? It was lucky I was only two boxes away when someone mentioned that the Weasleys seemed to be waiting for James and Al to attempt leaving. Anytime the family was around the boy's people watched to see what spectacle they would make of themselves. Not that either James or Albus had seen the attempt to wait them out or realized it.

They both would have faced it head on, but I still entered to see James' face clammed up. He was probably furious that he wasn't standing in front of his little brother. The boys were equal level in maturity but James was as protective as any big brother could amount too.

Al, well the boy looked a little confused, as Hermione started talking to him. This was not the place for this, how did she not see that?

I interrupted and saw relief in both the boys eyes and stances. They hated when the Weasley's made these attempts and hated even more that other's could see it bothered them. I knew later they would contemplate if they had shown any wekaness on the outside, and would look over their reaction to me. It always made me proud to know that they thought of me as someone they could count on. I thought of them like sons ever since I helped Harry the first few months after the Weasley fallout.

I touched the boys as they headed out and watched more of the tension they were holding in dissapate. Thankfully they would get some time at the dinner tonight, and then Harry could help sort them out.

I needed to have a talk with him about all this anyway.

I finally turned and faced Hermione, waiting for her to speak first. She could set the tone of the conversation. I was impressed when she tried to wait me out for a few moments, while the rest of the Weasley clan said nothing. Obviously they had discussed that she would be the spokes person. I waited patiently though, knowing eventually her need to explain her thoughts would win out. I was right.

"I just wanted to speak to them Neville. I am their Aunt, and I care about them."

I looked into her face and saw the truthfulness of the words, and saw some of the Weasley family nod in agreement. I almost felt sympathy for them all. Almost.

This was reality, and there was no black and white, good or bad guys in the whole mess defined as the Potter-Weasley Situation. Well, Ginny certainly wasn't great, but the rest was a mountain of gray whos tones had been muted by the years. Ronald and Hermione were the best examples of that.

The first few years Ronald was pissed at Harry, and held in ernest that Ginny could do no wrong. Come to think of it Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had done the same. And Hermione, well she reasoned that Harry was wrong for many reasons including that he had worked too much, and obviously given off signals that he wasn't interested in Ginny anymore. The woman could reason her way to any decision she thought appropriate at the moment.

Now years later it was evident that the moods had shifted. I was aware of it the whole time but seeing all of the family together just made it more evident.

Maybe it was that they had seen the boys or Harry in the papers over the years and seen the man prosper, reportedly prosper anyway, or maybe it was seeing Ginny mess things up again and again. But what had begun as black and white had turned to gray.

I had no recourse but honesty. Gentle honesty.

"I know you may feel that way Hermione, but this was not a good idea. You must see that." She should her head though, and I knew I would get nowhere with her.

"Neville its been years though!" She let out a huff of air I had no idea how to interpret. "We just want to know them. They are growing up fast and we don't want to miss that completely!" They already had missed it I thought to myself. They had wasted years blaming Harry deciding to isolate him and show disapproval as a family. Their gamble hadn't paid off though, and now the boys were almost grown men.

"And I am sorry to say that it may be a little to late for that." I saw Hermione was ready to get on one of her talking rolls and silenced her with a look.

"You all can see it anyway you like, but it's the way they see it that matters now. The why's and the how's are not your business, but they don't see you as family. They were raised…well, as Harry saw fit to protect them, and how they turned out it partially do to your family's well known attempt to punish Harry. You thought he couldnt raise them himself, that he would come crawling back to you. You're no more than strangers to them now though. Harassing stalking strangers at the moment. I have to go, but this cannot happen again. Try that again and it will be Harry telling you, and trust me you don't want that." I gave a hard look to the adults. It was true. They really, really did not want to see Harry instead of me. "Trust me, you really do not want to deal with Harry."

I started to walk up the stairs, but Arthur Weasley's voice caught me.

"Lord Longbottom, I know Ginny, well, its not important now. But they are our grandchildren. We are the only grandparents they have."

I liked the man, I reminded myself. He always seemed like a decent bloke, and I certainly did not want to hurt him. However, they were being dense. This conversation should have come to pass years ago if it was going to happen. Still, I remained calm.

"It may not be important, but Ms. Weasley changed everything. I don't mean to offend you sir but James and Albus are practically grown men. Men who most likely will never acknowledge a connection with you. I'm sorry to actually say it but you are years to late. Let it go Arthur. Let them go. They are truly nothing like the grandchildren you have Arthur. They wouldnt get along with a single one of you, and they never will." A sigh escaped me. "It's time to let them go Arthur, all of them."

I made my way to the stop of the stairs, only to come face to face with Draco Malfoy. I nodded my greeting to the man, but was upset that he over heard the confrontation. Great, just great I thought as I steped away from him. At least I knew that it would remain private. Draco Malfoy, no matter what anyone said about him, didn't have a loose mouth.

Why did I have a premonition that lives were changing directions very quickly, and there seemed to be no way to stop it? Good or bad, changes and status quo's seemed to be changing by the day.

TBC...