A/N: Nobody got ominous vibes from James's letter to Hermione? No one?

Friday evening

the Quidditch pitch

The Slytherins, Freddie, and Hugo were already waiting when James and Sam arrived for their first joint practice. Cameron, Nate, and Evan joined the other Gryffindors in the stands. As James had expected, there were a lot of spectators, even more than yesterday. He wasn't sure if they were here for the novelty of Gryffindor and Slytherin working together or simply because it was another opportunity to see Ginny fly.

"What's she doing here?"

"She is following James. Ginny Potter." She offered her hand to the Slytherin captain.

He hesitated, then shook it. "Brad Derrick. You're not running this practice."

"Of course not. I'm not the captain," she said cooly.

"But I am," James said. "Let's start with a couple of warm-up laps and then some Quaffle passes."

"Maybe you Gryffindors start like that, but we like to actually play the game," Derrick sneered.

"But we've never played together," James said calmly. He'd had to cancel their original first practice because of his Quidditch ban and had expected the attitude from Derrick, but was determined not to play into it. "If you have a better idea for team unity, I'm open."

"Is that a Firestar?" Ginny said, staring at the broomstick in the hands of the Slytherin beater, Aidan Miles.

"Brand new," Miles said. "Just got it this morning."

"Those aren't even out for beta testing yet," Ginny said, taking a few steps forward, her eyes still fixed on the broom.

"They are now. My dad is friends with the owner," Miles bragged. "He arranged for me to be a tester."

"At fifteen?" Freddie said skeptically. "New brooms usually go to someone who has played professional Quidditch. Aunt Ginny was one of the first to fly the Nova line when Nimbus relaunched."

"Give it a go," Miles said, ignoring Freddie and offering the broom to Ginny. "Its turning radius and burst acceleration is supposed to be even better than the old Firebolts."

"Really?" Ginny's face lit up, and she looked at Miles for the first time.

"Why not? The whole school's been dying to see you fly for a week."

"Cheers!"

Ginny was halfway to the goalposts before anyone in the crowd realized who was flying. James heard the gasps and saw the nudging elbows and pointing fingers as she climbed high above the stands in a blur of speed. She circled the pitch once, tipped the broom in a sharp dive, and leveled off just in time to sail straight through the center goal hoop.

"Not bad, for a girl," Derrick said.

"Damn good for anyone," Lily said hotly. "Montrose's Seeker broke his arm trying that move last summer."

"She's good, all right," Miles said. "Looks good too, with my broomstick between her legs."

James turned, but before he could say anything, Miles continued, smirking.

"I can think of something else—"

()()()()

Friday evening

the Headmistress's office

Ginny stared at the carpet between her feet, trying not to attract McGonagall's attention.

"Four on two! What kind of fairness is that? This team was formed for—what purpose, Mr. Potter?"

"Inter-house unity," James muttered.

Standing behind her desk, McGonagall gave him her beady-eyed stare, and he spoke a little louder.

"To promote inter-house unity, Professor."

"Inter-house unity." Her nostrils flared. "And how, may I ask, is pummeling each other at Quidditch practice going to promote that?"

Ginny caught James's eye.

"Well, Lily was with us, Professor."

Ginny heard Neville suck in a breath of laughter beside her, but he passed it off as a cough. McGonagall didn't spare him a glance.

"Inter-house unity in assaulting a fellow team member is not what I am looking for, Mr. Potter. Especially not in a captain and prefect, and I'm sure Professor Longbottom would agree."

"Of course, Headmistress."

"Considering that you never even made it onto the pitch, what could have possibly gone so wrong?"

Ginny gripped the skirt of her robes. Here it came.

"Miles insulted my mother, Professor. He set her up."

James was exactly right; she had been set up, and worse still, she had walked right into it. Couldn't have made it easier for the boy.

"Indeed." McGonagall's stare shifted to Ginny. "So, am I to conclude that had your mother not been here, your Quidditch practice with Slytherin House would have progressed without incident?" She spoke to James, but Ginny was bearing the force of that pointed glare, which was none the weaker for passing through square-rimmed spectacles.

"I think we would at least have made it onto the pitch, Professor."

"Mmm. Mrs. Potter, do you remember why I was against this shadowy plan of yours?"

"You thought if I shadowed—" Ginny put the tiniest emphasis on the word, just enough to let McGonagall know she knew what she was doing— "James that my presence would cause a 'considerable disturbance'."

"A considerable disturbance," McGonagall repeated, leaning forward with her hands flat on her desktop. "And do you think tonight qualifies?"

"I—"

"Six pupils brawling, three people treated in the hospital wing, and a crowd of witnesses. How many witnesses do you think there were, Professor Longbottom?"

Neville looked uncomfortable. "Maybe two hundred?"

"Two hundred. Two hundred eyewitnesses, who will return to each of their four house common rooms and relay the story with great enthusiasm and little attention to detail. Would you call that a considerable disturbance, Mrs. Potter?"

"Yes, Professor."

"And what else did I say?"

"Not to expect you to clean up my mess."

"When. This. Goes. Bad, not to expect me to clean up your mess. When, Mrs. Potter, not if. And I have been proven correct tonight, have I not?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Mr. Potter, twenty points from Gryffindor."

James let out a quiet breath.

"Each," McGonagall said, pressing her lips into a thin line.

Neville flinched.

"But, Professor, Miles started it—"

"Shall I add another twenty for insolence?"

Wisely, James said nothing.

"Mr. Potter, if I see you in this office again, there will be no need for your mother to follow you around this school because you will not be in it. Am I clear?"

For a moment, James looked like he was going to try to justify his actions again, but he, like three generations of Hogwarts pupils before him, withered under Minerva McGonagall's sharp gaze.

"Yes, Professor."

"You are dismissed."

Ginny and Neville did not move. McGonagall waited for several seconds after the door closed, but Ginny was much too experienced at mischief-making (and intimidating mischief-makers) to fill the silence. McGonagall finally dropped her assertive posture and sank into her chair.

"For Godric's sake, Ginny," she said irritably, flicking a stray quill feather off her desk.

"I know. I'm sorry. I walked right into it. But Professor, Aidan Miles had a Firestar, and they're not even—"

"I don't care. It won't matter that I spent fifteen minutes yelling at James and took sixty points from Gryffindor, all the pupils will consider tonight the epitome of greatness to be imitated at the first opportunity, and if we are not careful, the inter-house match will be a positive riot."

"Surely that's—"

"And you were a lot of help," McGonagall said crossly to Neville.

"I helped a lot. I didn't laugh."

She scowled.

"'Lily was with us'?"

McGonagall scoffed, but Ginny noticed her lips weren't quite so thin.

"He takes after his father, I'm afraid," Ginny said apologetically. But she had underestimated McGonagall's temper.

"And his mother, and his uncles, and his godparents, and his grandfather, and his namesake, and every other Weasley or Potter that has crossed the threshold of this castle in the sixty-five years I've been teaching here!" She thumped her walking stick and Ginny jumped. "I think I'll write to your mother, Ginny Weasley Potter."

Ginny gaped, speechless. There was a sputtering sound and she turned.

Neville was laughing, his face pink with the effort of holding it in. He pointed at Ginny. "You—you—you—"

Dumbfounded, she turned back to Professor McGonagall, who still looked cross but had placed her walking stick across her desk.

"Wha—"

"You should—have seen—your face," Neville gasped, bent over and clutching the back of a chair for support. "When—when Minerva said—"

Ginny felt the heat climbing her neck, spreading rapidly up her face. She smacked Neville, who didn't seem to notice. "That's not funny!"

"Actually, it was," McGonagall said dryly. "I have not seen that expression on someone over the age of eighteen in a very, very long time. Sit down, Neville, before you fall over."

Still chuckling, Neville clawed his way into a chair.

Watching the amusement of her old friend, Ginny began to see the humor. "Twenty years and three children, and all I could think was what Mum would say if McGonagall wrote home that I'd been caught riding some wizard's broomstick."

This set Neville off again, as Ginny had intended.

"Merlin, Gin-Ginny, stop," he begged, tears rolling down his round face.

"I still haven't ruled it out," McGonagall said. "Standing on tables, showing off in lessons, magic in the corridors, insulting pupils, Muggle dueling!"

Ginny groaned, slouching into the seat beside Neville. "Forget Mum, Harry is going to kill me. Please tell me no one had a camera."

Neville pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his eyes. "Are you kidding? Everyone had their cameras out. I just wish I had a picture of—of—" He pointed at Ginny again.

"Oh, come on. You've met my mother. She's an absolute terror."

"You're an absolute terror," Neville said. "That's what makes it so funny."

"I am not!"

"Ginny, did you see those boys? They were tripping over each other to get away from you."

"I should go back so James doesn't suspect all three of us of conspiring against him."

"In all seriousness, Mrs. Potter—" Ginny registered the return of her surname— "I've written your mother dozens of letters over the years. One more will not be a hardship."

"Yes, Professor."

James waited beside the gargoyle.

"I'm sorry," Ginny said quietly as they began walking back to Gryffindor Tower.

"It's not your fault."

But he sounded sullen and resentful, as if he did consider it her fault. And he had good reason. All those years playing Quidditch, all her carefulness to avoid innuendo and double entendres with the male players and the media, and she forgot it all at the sight of a new broomstick.

"I should have known better. I do know better. What did he say?"

James shrugged.

"I already know it was something rude. What was it?"

"I'm not repeating it."

"Yes, James, because I grew up with six brothers and played professionally, but I've never heard a dirty Quidditch joke," Ginny said sarcastically.

"You're still my mother," he said stubbornly.

She smiled. "Sometimes, you remind me a lot of your dad."

He looked down and away, avoiding her gaze.

"It's a compliment, James. Especially from me."

He made a face but didn't protest.

"You invited me to practice, and I ruined it for you. I really am sorry."

"It was an accident this time."

"This time?" she said, amused.

"Aren't you here especially to make things difficult for me?"

"To a point," she admitted. "But not to honestly get you in trouble and lose house points and be an unpleasant spectacle."

"Watching you fly isn't an unpleasant spectacle," he said grudgingly.

They stopped outside the Fat Lady's portrait.

"Do you want me to stay or go?" she said.

He raised his brows. "I get a choice?"

"This was my misbehavior."

"Go. Everyone will be all over you if you show up tonight. Maybe by tomorrow it will have died down some."

"All right. I'm going to the Wasps' practice in the morning, so I'll see you tomorrow afternoon." Longing for contact, she reached out and squeezed his hand. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mum."

()()()()

Saturday morning

the library

James looked up from his Potions text to answer Daisy Carmichael's question. "I've got to go," he said abruptly, throwing his notes and quill into his bag and hurrying round the table.

Harry Potter had just entered the library.

He turned when he saw James approaching and exited the library to wait for him. James appreciated this small gesture, as if his father didn't want to call any more attention to himself than necessary. Not that it could be helped, but still … at least he wasn't rubbing it in like his mum. They walked through the castle in silence, Harry's steps quick and sure. It wasn't until they left the castle and circled around the greenhouses that he spoke.

"What happened?"

"Ask Neville."

Harry ignored the familiarity, which was tolerated at home but forbidden at school. "I'm asking you."

James said nothing.

"McGonagall's letter said you got into a fight on the Quidditch pitch."

Silence.

"About?"

He shrugged.

"Look, James, I know it had something to do with your mother, and I know you were defending her."

"How do you know that?"

"Let's just say I was once in McGonagall's office after a fight on the pitch. Not to mention I have rather a lot of experience with wizards' reactions to your mum in uniform."

"She wasn't in uniform."

Harry raised one eyebrow, and James realized he'd been tricked into revealing information.

"What happened?"

"Aidan Miles has one of the new Firestars."

Harry groaned. "Don't tell me she flew his broomstick."

James nodded. "She did her dive-and-goal, and then—" He felt his ears get warm and studied his trainers. "Then he said—"

"I know what he said." Harry sounded exasperated.

"You do?" He looked up in surprise.

"Sex is not a recent invention, James."

"So anyways," James said hastily, "I hit him, and Freddie and Hugo joined in and Lily too, and then I jumped Derrick because he took a swing at Lils. I guess Mum saw us fighting because she separated us with a revulsion jinx before she even landed. Then Professor Longbottom and Professor Fawley came over and hauled us all up to the hospital wing. McGonagall sent a message that she wanted to see me and Mum, so Longbottom sent the others with Fawley but took us to the Headmistress's office. She took twenty points from each of us and Fawley did too!"

"That's nothing. Fred and George and I got a lifetime ban."

"Professor McGonagall kicked you off the team?"

"No, not Professor McGonagall. Umbridge. That's when we found out your mother could play. She took my spot as Seeker."

"She's been a real pain in the—"

Harry gave him a warning look.

"Neck. I mean, more than usual." He huffed impatiently. "She's treating me like a baby. She even tried to follow me into the boys' dormitory!"

"Why was that?"

James realized his mistake too late. "I, er, she.…" No way was he telling his dad what really happened; Harry would go spare, and James would end up swimming with the Giant Squid. If he were lucky. "I mouthed off," he muttered.

Harry turned and began walking along the edge of the Forbidden Forest. "Your mum was awfully tight-lipped when she came home Thursday night. She said you weren't cooperating, but she wouldn't give any details."

James stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Did she tell you what happened with the Slytherins?"

"Yes."

"Professor Longbottom told us a bit about what happened at Hogwarts during the war. He said the Slytherins were allowed to torture students."

"Yes."

"And the witches…." James trailed off at the look on Harry's face. Perhaps it was a good thing his dad hadn't been here that night, after all. "It's just … I think being here is hard for her. Can't you get her to go home?"

"That's your job, not mine."

"She's been insufferable! I didn't know about her ultimatum when I put the catnip in the Transfiguration classroom. I hadn't got the Howler yet! McGonagall and Longbottom have both been riding me all term, and I couldn't get away from Mum for two seconds because the Fat Lady lets her into the common room and McGonagall took the Cloak and the map!"

"James, this is really very simple. Stop fighting your mother and do what you're supposed to do and she'll go home."

"She shouldn't even be here anyway," he said, kicking a stray pinecone. "Just because she played Quidditch and is married to you, that doesn't give her the right to come in here and tell me what to do."

"She is your mother," Harry said firmly. "She has every right. You're lucky to have someone who cares about what you're doing."

James kicked the pinecone again. He should have known better. He knew it had been awful for his dad, growing up without a mum, but Harry didn't understand it could be awful growing up with a mum too. They walked in silence for a bit, and when James made an awkward kick off the toe of his shoe, sending the pinecone dancing towards the forest, Harry ran ahead and kicked it back. They played for a few minutes, kicking the cone back and forth, dodging in and out of each others' legs until it was a mere collection of chips too small to maneuver.

"What's really bothering you, James? And don't say it's your mum, because you've had an attitude ever since the summer."

"Nothing."

"Nothing doesn't end with both of your parents at Hogwarts."

"I didn't ask you to be here!"

"With you, Lily, and your mum in trouble, I didn't have much of a choice. Not to mention you persisted in pranks and detentions and neglecting your schoolwork and ignored every letter sent by either of us, or anyone else in the family for that matter, until your mother felt she needed to supervise you personally."

"Well, she doesn't!"

His dad put a hand on his shoulder. James tried to shrug it off, but Harry tightened his grip. "Cooperate, James. Show us you can act your age. If you can't handle the responsibilities of school and Quidditch Captain and prefect, how can I expect you to handle the Auror Academy?"

"I don't care about being prefect. You can have my badge!"

Harry dropped his hand. "What's wrong with being prefect?"

"You weren't. Nor Mum, neither."

"No," Harry agreed. "Nor my dad, nor Sirius."

"I don't care about them!" James said impatiently, then backtracked when he saw Harry flinch. "I'm sorry, it's just—" He turned his back, staring into the forest.

"Just what?"

He gritted his teeth and tried a change of subject. "What was your fight about?"

"What?"

"Your fight on the Quidditch pitch. Was it about Mum?"

"No, your grandmother. Both your grandmothers, actually. We had just beaten Slytherin and Malfoy insulted Ron and Fred and George's mum, then mine."

Once again, James was reminded of the animosity that had existed between his family and various members of Slytherin House.

"How long are you here for?"

"Depends."

James turned back around. "On?"

"Your mum and the Headmistress."

"I don't get a say?"

"Not with the way your behavior's been, no."

"Yeah, well, don't bother saying goodbye." And he stalked off towards the lake.

()()()()

Saturday afternoon

Ginny's guest suite

Harry waited in Ginny's suite when she opened the door.

"Harry!" Her face lit up, and his spirits lifted as they always did at the sight of her.

"I brought you a present," he said, accepting her hug and returning her kiss. "Here."

"My broomstick!" Ginny shrieked, so loudly that Harry winced. "Oh, Harry!"

She hugged him again, still clutching the broom, and he laughed.

"Did you bring yours?"

"What do you think?"

She grinned.

"How were the Wasps?"

"All buzz and no sting, as usual. Have you seen James?"

Harry nodded.

"Any luck?"

"None."

Ginny sighed and dropped into a chair. "I don't know what to do, Harry. I really, really don't."

"Maybe he needs a girlfriend."

Ginny gaped at him. "Whatever makes you say that?"

"Well … my dad … he was a bit of a prat growing up. Always getting into trouble, picking on other people, and—"

Ginny still looked incredulous.

Harry cleared his throat. "It's just … well, he wanted to impress my mum, didn't he? And so he changed his behavior, straightened up, and ended up being picked for Head Boy even though he hadn't been a prefect."

"Harry … James was in love with Lily. That's rather different than simply having a girlfriend. I've been here for a week. If James—our James—felt that strongly about someone, I would know."

Harry frowned. "What about—who was that girl Neville mentioned in his letter?"

"Holly Jordan. And Neville was wrong, it's Cameron who fancies Holly."

"Oh." Well, Ginny would know.

"I really think a girl is the last thing James needs to be worrying about right now."

"You know he was defending you last night, right?"

"I know. I shouldn't have—"

"Ridden another wizard's broomstick?"

She wrinkled her nose. "It sounds so vulgar when you say it like that."

"I'm sure he was vulgar."

"Neville would have handled it, but McGonagall heard and called us to her office. She even threatened to write to Mum-my mum! She's pretty pissed at me."

"I could tell," Harry said dryly. "It was … an interesting letter. I doubt this morning's article helped much." There had been a picture of Ginny scattering a clump of wrestling boys in this morning's Prophet, complete with accusations of favoritism and hints of what other chaos McGonagall was hiding within the school.

Ginny winced. "She'll want to see you. Us."

"Later. Listen, I was thinking—what do you think about asking Ron to come up?"

Ginny looked surprised. "Here, at Hogwarts? Don't you think that's pushing McGonagall a bit far?"

"No, not here. Hogsmeade. Let him take James out of the castle, give him a bit of a break. He won't talk to either of us, but maybe he'll talk to Ron."

"What makes you say that?"

Harry hesitated. Ginny was generally much better at understanding their children's motivations, but he had been Ron's best mate since they were younger than James, and something about James's attitude….

"I think maybe he's feeling the pressure. You know, of so much to live up to. Not just me and you, but Ron and Hermione and—"

"Then how is Ron going to help?"

"Because Ron knows what that's like. You were the daughter, it was different for you, but Ron had to live in the shadow of all your brothers and me too. And—well, I don't know how to help James deal with you. With a mother."

Ginny said nothing, just stared at him for a moment. "All right. Let's Floo-call him. But James has to think this is Ron's idea—he can't know that we asked him to talk to him."

"Agreed."

a/n: I finished Camp NaNo early and decided to celebrate with an early update :D I was so looking forward to changing my icon to a winner's badge, but they're not available until Monday. What's up with that? I think I have a workable first draft of the 8th Year fic (although I haven't read the whole thing yet) and am hoping to have it ready to go in time to start right after Misbehavior ends. No promises, but that's the goal.

Welcome and thank you to new followers and reviewers!