A/N: I'm not sure this is exactly what most of you wanted when you asked for a part two to this, but it's what came out, and I feel like I set myself up for a possible third part, but oh well.

I hope, nonetheless, you enjoy.

Chapter Two

It's a Saturday morning when James' daughter arrives home from University with a basket full of laundry, and a love bite on her neck.

And he snaps the pencil he's using for the morning crossword in half.

"What's that on your neck?" He's wanting his voice to come off threatening. As though she's five again, and caught sneaking sweets. But it cracks in a way it hasn't done since puberty, and the effect is lost.

"A gift from my boyfriend," she says, grinning at him in a way that reminds him of himself, and he's torn between laughing and crying.

"Boyfriend?"

"Yep," she says, popping the 'p' in a way that's exactly like her mother. "We've been dating for a month now."

"Dating?"

James ought to have known, ought to have suspected as much. Harriet's been acting peculiar lately. Happy lately. Or happier than normal, at least. The type of happy that ends up with blue hair dye in his shampoo bottle, and leaves him both cursing and complimenting her for the amount of time it takes him to get his normal raven locks back.

Of course there's a boy involved.

"You're not allowed to date," he says, as she snatches the paper from him and corrects one of his crossword answers. "We've been over this - "

"Yeah, yeah," says Harry before throwing her voice in a near exact impression of him, "no dating till you're forty or I'm dead."

This time laughter wins out, and James finds his certain brand of charm is more effective coming from his daughter.

"It'll kill me, you know. You dating. Absolutely murder me."

"Relax, Dad. It's not like I'm, oh, I don't know… moving in with the guy after answering a roommate wanted ad like someone else in this house."

James knew that he and Lily should have never told Harriet how they met. It's ammunition against them for the rest of their fucking lives.

"Your mum -"

"Was your roommate," sing-songs Harriet, as she slides the paper back to him, the crossword fully done. "You guys started out living together."

"That's not - there was that time -"

"She moved out for two weeks, yes, I know. But she came back. And you two still lived together."

Harriet stands and the morning sun that's shining through the open window catches her. Making her glow. Making her bright. And James thinks she's far too beautiful for a boy.

"Anyway," she grins. And even that's bright. "He's coming over for dinner tomorrow night. I've already cleared it with mum."

"Your mum is in on this?"

"Mum likes him."

"She's met him?"

"I didn't let her. She found out on her own. The woman's got my phone tapped or something."

"Yes, well, she ought to. What with you dating or what have you," says James, rubbing the gruff of his jawline with his hand. "Dinner tomorrow, you say? I think I'll invite Sirius. Maybe Remus."

Harriet snorts. "I know what you're doing. Or what you're trying to do."

"What?"

"You think you and your click -"

"We aren't a click!"

"- are going to be able to intimidate him, and I'm telling you now, it's not going to work. He can handle you lot."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, nothing," she shrugs, standing and heading up the stairs towards her bedroom. "And if you invite Sirius you're definitely going to be inviting Remus!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Boyfriend?"

"Yes."

"Boyfriend?"

"Yes!"

"She has a boyfriend?"

"Yes, Sirius! For Christ's sake! Grasp the simple fact that my little girl now has a - a friend that's a boy so we can move on to the next step!"

"Murder?"

"No - well, maybe. We'll see. But first we've got to figure out who this kid even is."

James can see Moody glancing at Sirius and him wearily from his office to where they're standing in the break room. He can't really blame him. Normally when they're off to the side as they are, they're planning some sort of prank. Something that sends the whole precinct into a state of disarray for the entirety of the day. But today, they're not plotting against their innocent coworkers, but rather, some nameless, faceless boy.

"Didn't you say Lily knows who this kid is?" asks Sirius. His jaw is tight, and his hands are shoved into the pockets of his leather coat. "Couldn't she tell you?"

"She's refusing to give up any information," grumbles James. "She apparently found out who he is and where he works. She said I'll love him. But I don't trust her judgement."

Sirius nods. "She fell for you."

"How are you my best mate?" groans James, lifting his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Honestly, I could do much better."

"Could you though?" grins Sirius. "I'm about to help you cover up a murder."

"True. Maybe we should get lunch first though."

"I'm starved," says Sirius. "Let's stop by Wheezes after. I need more splat frogs to throw at Moody's window.

"- so anyway, now she's dating and bringing the kid over for dinner tomorrow. So now we're trying to figure out a way to intimidate him, which is proving nearly impossible, because we don't know a thing about the lad."

Wheezes is honestly a godsend to James. It's near his favorite lunch spot, they've got a wide variety of products he is able to get into all sorts of trouble with, and the Weasley twins who run it remind him of himself and Sirius.

He's particularly fond of George Weasley, the twin with a partially blown off ear due to an experiment gone wrong, who is currently checking him out.

"Dating you say," he grins and James suspects he could count the lad's teeth. "That's a shame. Considering we would have made a good match apparently."

The shop is relatively empty save for a few random stragglers, but James knows they do most of their business from students when school lets out for the day. Which is why, he assumes, he can hear the other twin, Fred, sniggering off towards the side as he re-shelves products.

"Yeah," says James, drawing out the word and giving Fred an odd look before jerking his head in his direction. "Is he alright?"

"Him?" asks George, still grinning. "Yeah, he's fine. Just enjoying the new line of fake snakes we got in."

James shrugs, not really able to say much because he's been known to sit around giggling over a perfectly placed whoopee cushion for several minutes.

"I'm beginning to think I should have set you up with her now," sighs James, ruffling his hair. "At least you're the devil I know."

George is done scanning the wide variety of splat things that James has found, but he finds that he's far too downtrodden over the fact that Harriet has a serious enough boyfriend to bring home to get enthused at an afternoon of pissing Moody off.

Which is precisely how he knows he's too far gone.

Pathetic old man, he thinks.

"How about this," starts George, handing James his bags over the counter, "if Monday rolls around and you decide you really don't like this bloke, fill up a cart of stuff. Free of charge."

James grins, lopsided and just enough to reach his eyes in the slightest way.

"Yeah, alright," he agrees. "What if - by some misfortune - I do like this kid?"

"The only way you'd like this kid if is he was me."

George smirks in a way that reminds James of himself, and he think for a brief moment that, perhaps, he wouldn't mind if his daughter were to date him. And he curses himself for it.

"You remind me of myself," snorts James before rubbing his hand over the gruff of his beard. "So does Harriet, now that I'm thinking about it."

There's a loud, prolonged honk from the car outside, which James takes as Sirius' word that he's ready to go, having walked out while James was checking out their supplies.

"It was his idea to come here, and then he runs out when it's actually time to pay," groans James. "I better get going. You got any weekend plans?"

George grins, his eyes lit up with something almost recognizable to James. The beginnings of mischief, he thinks. "Seeing a guy about a Coke factory."

Saturday evening rolls around, and James finds himself pacing back and forth in his bedroom while Sirius and Remus sit side by side on his bed watching on.

Dinner is in approximately fifteen minutes, and James feels as though it is somehow both too far away and not soon enough. He feels as though he is suffocating on each minute, each tick of the clock, and when Remus tells him that he ought to sit down and relax, his anxiety gets the better of him.

"How can you sit at a time like this?" cries James, tugging at his hair. "Harriet's future husband could be walking in the door at any moment, and I'm supposed to sit down?"

"It's not - it's not that serious," says Sirius, and James knows that Sirius is, indeed, taking this seriously because for the first time in his life he refuses to acknowledge the pun. "It's just - he's just a boy."

"I was a boy," grumbles James.

"Some could argue that you still are," says Remus, clearly bored as he checks his phone. "Honestly, you both should trust Harriet's judgement."

"Trust her?" Remus is a traitor and a liability to their mission. James should have known better than inviting him to dinner. "She's a child!"

"She's not a child, James," huffs Remus. "She's twenty years old, and more than that, she's a force -"

"A what?"

"A force, James. You think she would honestly pick someone that would take away from that?"

No, James doesn't think that. He doesn't think that at all.

Which is why he's close to tears, he suspects. Which is why he's so distraught that he's nearly pulled tuffs of his own hair out. Because Harriet falls in love the way he himself does. Fully, deeply. Just once. And whoever this boy is, this nameless, faceless boy, that's about to walk through his front door, but James hopes that he's worthy enough of such a fierce love.

That he's made of something just as fierce.

And yet, deep down and barely unearthed, he knows that he will be, because Harriet has chosen him.

And Harriet's intuition is never wrong.

The sound of the doorbell echoes throughout the house, and James, who hasn't stood still long enough to notice anything other than his pounding heart, is hit with the smell of a roast in the oven.

"James, it's time," says Lily, appearing in the doorway in a yellow dress. Her hair, dark red and shorter than she's ever had it, is pinned up on one side, and she smiles at James as she takes him in. "Oh, James. It's going to be alright."

He allows her to take his hand, so large in her own, and yet she guides him perfectly. Steadily. And he hears the shuffling of feet behind him, knowing that, whatever is on the outside of that door, his mates have his back.

They're down the stairs all too soon, and Lily is opening the door as James is trying his hardest to swallow his heart back down his throat.

And then…

James wonders if his vision has gone, or if he needs a new pair of glasses, for before him is a boy with a shock of fiery red hair, freckles, and a smirk that reminds him of his own.

And, standing next to him, his daughter, who is positively glowing.

"Mr. Potter," says George Fucking Weasley, his hand intertwined with Harriet's. "It's nice to see you again."

Days turn to weeks, weeks to months, and seasons pass before James. The warm summer sun cools, bringing in the chill of autumn, and it's in the winter - frozen and frosty - that James finds himself standing in the Wheezes shop.

Harriet and George have been dating, and James finds that it's not so hard to deal with. Not when Harriet is the happiest he's ever seen her. And it certainly doesn't hurt that he gets the family discount at the shop now, which is to say, practically whatever he wants for free.

And while Harriet and George are in a constant state of togetherness, his daughter isn't as absent as James feared she would be once a boy was involved. George attends dinner at their house nearly once a week where they are able to play teams at board games for the first time, and James helps him scheme up new ideas for the shop. Harriet is loved by George's family, particularly striking on with his youngest brother and sister who share similar interests, and have also come over to the house a few times, even without George.

And things are perfect.

Perfect, perfect, perfect.

Which is why, James knows, George has asked him to come to Wheezes after he got off work.

Because the next step of all this perfection lays in a small box that is slid across the counter towards him. Resting in it, a small pearl ring. Which is what his daughter - his Harriet for just a bit longer - prefers over diamonds.

"I'm going to ask Harriet to marry me," says George. "And I wanted to let you know. Even though she says she's her own woman, and doesn't need anyone's permission for anything."

And James feels a lot of things in the swelling in his chest at that moment, but fear is not one of them.

"I can think of no one better for the job," he says.

And his hand is steady as he hands back the ring.