AUTHOR'S NOTE: Baaaahh, super late update. Fun stories, though. Fun fun fun. It involves Starcraft and school and flashdrives running away. The later part, not so fun ]:

I really disliked writing this chapter because I stopped halfway and didn't continue until DAYS DAYS later (but I refused to start again from scratch), and I hated writing the last three sentances with a passion. Because I hate writing transition chapters, but I do so anyways because I like pushing keys on the keyboard. But whatever. I suck at writing because I'm so awesome. And I fixed my silly typos from the last chapter cause I'm a silly mongoose - thanks for a heads up, y'all.

"Harry, I can understand the days when you bring your work home with you, but this?"

Ginny's hair was beginning to frizz at the scalp, stray hairs escaping from the cascade of copper strands. It reminded Harry of Mrs. Weasley, how her toils in the Burrow left the humble, bumbling kind woman with a storm cloud of orange hair. Except, unlike Mrs. Weasley, Ginny had a precise shape to her, leaving her gracefully tall, as well as elegantly strong. Like a beautiful, yet powerful, tree in August. If Harry had to pick specifically which beautiful, yet powerful, tree at the moment, Harry would say the Whomping Willow.

"Ginny, it'll only be for a day or two," Harry informed Ginny, "Just until the trouble can be sorted."

"Harry, couldn't you have warned me? You told me today you'd have no work at all! We'd have no work at all! I specifically planned today to have absolutely no plans. No appointments, no shopping, no guests, nothing! I don't even know what we're eating tonight. That's how unplanned I planned today to be - a nice, beautiful day, where everyone could relax and not have to worry about doing this or that or whatever!"

"Well, no one told me either," Harry complained, his voice dulled and borderline cynical, before hastily adding, "Sorry, love."

"Just," Ginny said, frustration on her voice, "I just... Merlin, I don't know, Harry. It just feels like my day's ruined. My entire day!"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, holding out his arms to wrap his wife in a comforting embrace, "I know the feeling."

Ginny accepted it, sighing into Harry's shoulder, "A sixth addition to the house just... I have my hands full with three kids, Harry, you know? I mean, its not something I can't handle, because I can do just fine most days. But the times when you're away, and James or Albus decide to do something stupid, like fall and snap their limbs, it gives me heart attacks. Lily's a handful too. I understand her quest for curiosity, but when she brings in something like Doxies into the house, I've got to spend hours going out of my way to remove some ungodly infestation. Now there's four kids that could bring Doxies or gnomes into the house, or that could fall and snap their limbs... and what if they don't get along? I keep getting the feeling that someone's not going to get along. Albus and James only get along with the treaties boys make. But what about..."

She stopped for a moment, as if thinking of a way to say what she meant. Harry interjected, "Scorpius?"

"What if he doesn't get along? I... he's a Malfoy, for God's sake. Those people are spoiled out their bums! Remember when Draco just bought his way into the Slytherin quidditch team? The nerve! And the times when he'd just walk around, shoving his rich rear in any poor git's face, insulting everyone's grandmother and child throughout Hogwarts and beyond. Thank god his reign of terror is well over."

Harry nodded again, "I know, love. But this'll blow over in a day or two, I solemnly swear it will. Maybe it is a spot too much now, but it'll clear up soon. I'll be here with you, too. We can even call over your brother and Hermione, have them man the fort and ease some tension."

"That would be nice," Ginny let loose a stray breath, "Just..."

"Hmm?"

"Well, the bloody git's a damned clone of his bloody father."

"I noticed," Harry responded, "I noticed."

~† † †~

"Who're you?"

James Potter stood in front of his couch, a worn leather ball in the crook of his arms. He was questioning the younger stranger, a curious gaze attempting to identify every inch of the house invader. The younger stranger curled his nose in a bit of disgust – the Potter's son smelled of dirt, grass, sweat, and dog. Or something like dog. But the stranger didn't let his voice show any disdain – it stayed quite curious.

"Who are you?" the stranger volleyed the question back in kind. He, too, was curious.

"Well," said James, "I'm James Sirius Potter."

The stranger stayed still, saying nothing. He looked discontent with James' presence, saying nothing more as if he enjoyed being silent and alone on the light cushions of the sofa. But when James opened his mouth, the stranger's expression changed from a rather thoughtless to thoughtful one. A gear shifted behind the stranger's eyes as James insisted again,

"Who are you?"

"Your uncle," the stranger said, delicately, carefully laying a lie. The corners of his lips went from a frown to a very small, very amused, grin.

"I never 'eard of you," remarked James simply.

"I never 'eard of you either."

James noticed that the stranger – or uncle, as claimed – had a way of articulating words. It felt like he was talking to a raven of some shady sort, baiting him with small truths with the motives of fooling him. Well, James would have none of that – he was bigger than the stranger, and he felt much older. If a contest of wits were in order, James would indulge.

"What kind of uncle never hears of his nephew?"

"What kind of nephew never hears of his uncle?"

"Well, if you're my uncle, why are you younger than me?"

"Why are you older than me?"

"Well, uncles aren't supposed to be younger than their nephews."

"But you're older than me. That's weird." Scorpius said his last words with a tinge of disgust, as if it were James' own fault.

James gritted his teeth, fishing for some justification that would give him leverage against the stranger, "Well, you're lying."

"You're right, I am."

James opened his mouth to retaliate, but was surprised by the younger stranger's response. Had he really given up so easily? But a victory was a victory. So, the Potter's son pursued again, "Then who are you?"

"I'm your grandmother."

The Potter's son's face turned scarlet, "No, you aren't!"

"How can you tell?" The young stranger replied, confidently, the victory on his fingertips, not James'.

"Well, you're not a girl, you're a boy."

"How'd you know? Did you check?" The stranger said this with a bit of a raised chin. An I-dare-you-to-answer-without-embarrassing-yourself bit of a raised chin, to be exact.

James never got a chance to take the stranger up on the dare, however, as the sound of feet traveling down the stairs interrupted. It was Harry, Ginny following far-from-gingerly behind him, "Hey, James. What you up to, kiddo?"

Jame's face scrunched up, unable to answer.

Footnote: minecraftminecraftminecraft

Also, on a less spammed note, shyte's gonna go down eventually. Big shyte. Like, "OH MY, THAT SUCKS, GOOD THING THAT WASN'T ME" shyte. The chapter after next next chapter - it is going DOWN. Or the chapter after that. Probably the chapter after that.

For now, expect a nice visit from aunt Hermione and uncle Ron and shtuff shtuff shtuff in the next update.