Marvel: Harry Potter (one-shot)

Harry squatted to let Albus wrap his pale, skinny arms around his neck, gagging slightly before giving his bum a push, securing the toddler on his shoulders. Albus shifted around, "Now I'm taller than James."

The oldest Potter son scowled at this, crossing his arms over his chest and grumbling, "Not really. It's just that dad is tall and he's carrying you like a baby."

Righteous anger flaring at the name, Albus pushed himself up, unfortunately using Harry's face, before his father interrupted, adjusting his spectacles now covered in tiny grubby fingerprints, "James. I seem to remember you being pretty excited to ride on Uncle Charlie's shoulders at the Burrow on Sunday."

James reddened, face turned toward his mud-caked trainers. Harry fought back a smirk and put on his 'stern father' face, "What do you say to your brother?"

Still looking down, James muttered something indistinguishable that Harry assumed was meant to be a halfhearted apology, "Sorry James. Didn't catch that. Could you say it louder and with less scowling?"

"How did you-"

"I'm an auror. Now do it."

James took a fortifying breath, then blurted, "'m sorry for makin' fun of how short you are."

Albus gripped Harry's ears tightly in indignation, "James dad said to 'pologize, not make more fun!"

In an effort to put a cork in what had the potential to surpass the gingerbread house feud of '06, Harry quirked a brow, "James."

"Sorry for bein' mean Albus," he finally relented with a sigh.

Harry smiled kindly and extended his hand, the other grasped Albus' leg, partially to keep him secure and partially to prevent receiving a black eye care of his 2-year-old son. Once was enough.

The trio crunched along, the silence punctured by birdcalls, Albus' periodic questions about said birds, Harry's mainly accurate responses, and James' pleas for stories about his father's adventures.

Both boys knew to an extent why their father and their extended family were famous, although the gory details were left for later. Aside from a desire to share the truth, the inquisitive boys couldn't be kept in the dark for long after ambling down Diagon Alley with their parents. But the Potters had agreed that stories of adventures were acceptable, of course details were carefully excluded given their young audience.

Harry paused, pulling Albus' hand from yanking his father's messy locks and placed a kiss to his smooth palm before speaking, "Did I ever tell you boys about the time me and Uncle Ron flew a car to Hogwarts by ourselves?"

This drew the expected gasps, both boys jealous and impressed by their father's youthful antics. Not to say that the antics don't still happen...I'm just better at not getting caught. Unless Ginny is around…I guess I'm just good at keeping it from the little monsters...

Harry's tale filled the time it took to hike back through the forest near his and Ginny's homey cottage on the outskirts of Godric's Hollow and once they broke the tree line, he let Albus slide to his feet and watched as the brothers shot off towards the back garden. He allowed a small contented smile to cross his face as he took in the Potter home. After they'd had James, Ginny and Harry agreed that raising him in their tiny flat wasn't what they wanted. And Grimmauld was a possibility, but both longed for a wide-open space that was completely their own.

Originally, Harry had wondered if moving to the last place his parents lived would be a bad idea, but they'd purchased a property on the other side of the village and never regretted it. It actually provided a comfort to him, a feeling of closeness to his own parents as he entered fatherhood.

Shaking his head to clear it from his musings, Harry trotted toward the back door, a steady warm glow emanating from the spotless windows surrounded by pale yellow shutters.

James and Albus waited as patiently as two children under five can outside the back door for Harry to open it with a flick of his wand. As soon as he did, both grabbed at the polished handle and soon burst inside, small feet thundering up the creaky wooden stairs, "We're back Gin."

Ginny emerged from the den, a streak of ink across her cheek, "Perfect timing. Just sent my final draft off to the office."

Harry moved to place a chaste kiss on her lips, which Ginny deepened, threading her fingers through the short hairs at the base of his neck and whispered against his lips, "Hi."

Rubbing his nose against hers, Harry's eyes twinkled behind his round glasses, "Hi."

A shout echoed from the second floor followed by James' yell, "Mum! Albus flicked my nose."

"Well he stole my sock!"

Harry stifled his laughter and whispered, "Stole his sock?"

Ginny shook her head in bemusement, running her hands over his shoulders affectionately before calling back, "Both of you cut it out and get down here with your hands washed. Dad made supper."

Sliding his hands down from her lower back to cup her bum, Harry smiled contentedly and muttered, "Lucky thing stew's already done," before nuzzling the nape of her neck, resuming their earlier activities.

Moments later, they were jarred from a snog induced haze by twin groans and Albus' cry of disgust. James just grimaced, "Why'dya want to do that?"

Harry kissed Ginny's nose and pulled away, striding towards the kitchen, "Let's have this conversation again in ten or so years James. I have a feeling you'll understand."

James shook his head and Albus agreed, "Never gon' understand kissing. It's gross."

Ginny smirked as she ushered the boys to their booster seats, "Up you go. Dad made stew and fresh bread."

"What's dessert dad?"

Ginny's eyes sparked mischievously as she caught Harry's eye over James' head and mouthed, "Me."

Harry's eyebrows shot up into his hairline before a satisfied grin settled across his face, "Victoria sponge, mate."

Albus moaned in appreciation, legs swinging happily.

Mealtime passed merrily as the foursome devoured the hearty meal, autumn winds whistling outside the snug cottage felt far away when surrounded by family and comfort. After, they settled in the den for a quiet evening reading and listening to the wireless. Soon enough, the youngest Potters grew drowsy, eyelids drooping halfway through Babbity Rabbity, despite their father's riveting portrayal of the cackling stump.

Scrubbed clean and tucked into warm beds, Albus' door pulled closed and James' cracked just so, Harry and Ginny returned to the crackling fire and settled onto the sofa just as the late evening program began on the wireless – sentimental ballads and love songs for the remainder of the evening.

Harry let his head drop back on the sofa as Ginny tucked herself into his side comfortably, fingers stroking his wooly jumper in random shapes, "Harry?"

A rumble that she felt through his chest invited her to continue, "This morning I left the boys with mum for a bit."

Harry placed a kiss to her fiery hair, "Oh yeah? That's good. They love your mum and dad."

Ginny hummed in agreement and lifted her head, "I just had some errands," she paused, "Well I guess just one errand."

Slumping down further on the couch, Harry pulled her tighter to his chest, "Did this mysterious singular errand go well?"

Ginny laughed nervously, taking a deep breath, "Don't be a berk. And it went fine. Good. Great even. I think."

Harry shifted her legs to dangle across his lap, green eyes piercing her dark brown, "Do I have to coerce this out of you or are you going to give up? I'm trained in interrogation...techniques."

"I'll sample your techniques later you randy bugger. I went to Mungo's."

Brow furrowed, Harry spoke, his voice tinged with concern, "You said everything-"

Ginny kissed him briefly, one he sought to deepen but she put an end to, pushing him away gently with a hand to his chest, "Yes. We're both wonderful."

"We?" Harry managed to stammer.

Nodding, Ginny tucked a stray hair behind her ear and took Harry's hand in her own, bringing it to her still flat belly.

Harry delivered a blinding grin, pulling her into his lap, breathing in her scent, "This is bloody fantastic Gin."

Ginny pressed her lips to his neck, feeling his blood pump at his pulse point, "So eloquent and refined."

Laughter bubbled out of his throat, "Always, dear."

End.