The day after the wine thing, James nearly gets a heart attack when he looks down from the broom and finds Voldemort standing out on the lawn with his arms crossed.

James thinks about just flying away but Voldemort could definitely catch him. He coasts down and swings off the broom. "Morning. What a perfect day for not-murder."

"Collect your things, I'll be taking you home," Voldemort states.

"Ten minutes!" James cries and shoots off – dumping the broom into its closet and racing up the stairs. He grabs his bag (which he transfigured wandlessly and it took four straight hours to do) with all his clothes that Black transfigured before during the first segment of the kidnapping and then rushes back.

They side-along apparate and James is so excited going back that he barely flinches when the Dark Lord touches him.

Euphemia rips open the door to the Potter Manor as soon as they land, the wards having alerted her as to the Heir coming home, and she grits her teeth but remains cordial -if tense- as she ushers James inside.

Fleamont quickly grabs James' arm and backs them up. Euphemia doesn't move from the doorway but Voldemort doesn't leave either.

"Dear," Euphemia says to her husband, head half turned but keeping Voldemort in sight. "James must be tired. Why don't you take him upstairs to get some rest while I invite our guest into the sitting room for a chat."

Fleamont hesitates but he's also very clear on what kind of woman Euphemia is and so says a polite if wooden welcome to Voldemort and quickly takes James away.

Euphemia steps into the sitting room and gestures for Voldemort to take a seat, only sitting after he does. "Shall I call for some tea?" she asks.

The Potters don't have house elves, not when the Potter Family Magic is strong enough to act when they call. Most ancient families have such a thing but it costs the caster's magic, unlike house elves and so servants are often preferred.

"No need, this will only take a moment," Voldemort replies, crossing his legs at the knee and lounging like he owns the place.

"Right then," Euphemia mutters. "Go on, please tell me why you kidnapped my son with only a polite letter to inform me and my husband of the…change in plans."

"I saw an opportunity and picked up the boy because I had a meeting with some Light families from Spain scheduled," Voldemort says simply like there's nothing wrong with impulse-buying a child. "A Light Heir has been a great boon."

"Then I believe we can call this a fair trade," Euphemia states. "Thank you for saving my son, regardless of your intentions. Please never come near him again."

Voldemort's eyes are half lidded. "Unfortunately, the boy works too well."

Euphemia purses her lips. "Speak clearly, Voldemort, my hearing is going in my old age."

"We can negotiate the details later," the Dark Lord dismisses, not even acknowledging the dig at him being younger than the Potters.

"No," she says. "No, there will be no deal. This is the end."

"He will not be hurt or made to do anything he doesn't wish," Voldemort says calmly. "I will have no contact with him unless absolutely needed, and it will only take a few hours every few weeks."

"Pick another Heir," Euphemia argues. "You have many to choose from."

"All Dark," Voldemort points out.

"Then kidnap a Light one," she scoffs. "You had James for a few days - but you wouldn't be able to stand him for any greater length of time. He's too curious for his own good, doesn't know when to shut up, and barely even pretends to be obedient. There must be a better option for you."

Voldemort raised an eyebrow at that stupid comment and Euphemia sucks in a breath through her teeth.

If Voldemort showed up with a nice, meek Light Heir who acted like a servant then it would clearly broadcast just how wrong the situation was to any potential allies for the Dark Lord.

Voldemort needs someone fearless, who can manoeuvre in a political situation, and most of all doesn't need to be hand held constantly. He's not going to waste time on them, he just wants to be able to parade them around for a few minutes before sending them away.

James kept himself entertained without getting (too) underfoot, learned the layout of the manor without prompting, and reacted perfectly to meeting company.

"It's been a pleasure," Voldemort drawls and rises from the armchair. "I'll be in contact."

Euphemia stands as well, wand in hand but she knows it would be foolish to jump into things without a better plan.

She sees Voldemort to the door and waits until he disapparates before rushing upstairs to Fleamont and James where she tells them what happened in a panic.

Then they all panic, for quite a long time, and nothing really gets done or explained further until they manage to calm down again.

"I have had such a month," James says to his parents, flopped over the arm of a three-seater couch in the library.

Fleamont sits beside him, and Euphemia sits on an armchair across, angrily sipping tea. They share a look between themselves.

"Were you hurt?" Fleamont asks immediately.

"All self-inflicted," James admits with a sigh.

"Who was the first kidnapper?" Euphemia demands instead. "What did they want?"

James groans loudly. "This - okay, so time travel but the extreme sport version." He suddenly jerks upright, a wide grin splitting his face. "I have a son and he's adorable!"

Euphemia shatters the teacup in her hand.

"Not like that," James swiftly corrects. "In the future I have a son, who was made when I am an adult, with someone I love and not a strange time traveller - who I should mention is a man and not capable of having babies."

"Sweetheart, you need to explain things better." Euphemia brushes off shards of porcelain from her dress onto the ground and Fleamont leans over to vanish the spilled liquid with a wave of his wand.

"So who was the man?" Fleamont insists.

James pauses because he can't say Sirius - his parents might not like Sirius any longer if they knew. "It...was a Black."

"Was it Sirius?" Fleamont deadpans.

"How did you know!?"

"Who else would it be?" Fleamont cries. "You said time travel and the man apparently told you stories about an adorable son, so it was either Sirius or Remus."

James hunches forward, face his hands as he props up elbows on his knees. "Okay, so let me explain because I think it needs an explanation."

"Was Sirius trying to protect you from something?" Euphemia guesses. "And took it too far. Maybe Peter was involved with something in the future that hurt you."

James looks up. "Alright, I don't need to explain."

"Are you…" Fleamont trails off. "Are you okay, with that older Sirius?"

"I believe Black is…telling the truth, but Peter didn't do anything yet," James says seriously. "And I hate Black for that, for taking those years where Peter was still my friend."

"Do you want to tell us the story?" Euphemia offers. "Forewarned is forearmed, and all that."

James nods. "Yeah, I…yeah..."

"...You weren't listening."

"I was listening to the important parts," James retorts sharply. "About my baby son who is a Quidditch prodigy, I might add."

Fleamonts stands. "I'm going to go get a pensieve."

"Bring more tea as well," Euphemia says with an eyeroll. "This will take a while."

.

A/N: Did that clear up most of the confusion lol. Voldemort was passing by, heard about James being taken and was like 'hey I could use one of those' and just re-kidnapped him on a whim.