a/n: any resemblance to Dennis and Jake's conversation in Run Fatboy Run is entirely intentional, and I'm posting this because why couldn't James and Lily have lived WHY

disclaimer: lol no they'd have lived if I owned what are you on

Harry's giggling floated behind him in the air as his little legs carried him down the garden path. "Dad!"

He veered off to the right and onto the grass, still laughing as James chased behind him. "Daddy, no!"

James chuckled, hands reaching out for his son, who was now jumping up to the bottom rungs of the ladder they'd attached to one of the trees at the end of the garden. Small hands scrambling for purchase on the gnarled bark, Harry turned, black hair whipping in the wind, green eyes wide.

"Dad!"

James grinned at him and twirled him up in the air, placing him down with two feet on the rung and supporting Harry's back as he climbed.

"Do you want to know a secret?" asked Harry, when he'd got up to a comfortable branch.

James swung himself up into the tree and ruffled Harry's hair. "Of course."

Harry peeked through his fingers with a dimpled smile and said, "Ron's sister's called Ginny."

"Well," said James. "I'm sure that's not a secret. I reckon her parents probably know that."

"She looks like a Puffskein."

James snorted. "She what?"

"She looks like a Puffskein," repeated Harry, one of his front teeth missing as he beamed at his Dad.

"That's not a very nice thing to say," reprimanded James, wondering where in Merlin's name the conversation was going. He hoped Harry wasn't going to ask for another pet, because they already had the cat, and sometimes it felt like Padfoot was enough to handle.

With another impish grin: "I like Puffskeins."

"Yeah?"

Harry nodded at him, eyes twinkling brightly.

"More than Quidditch?"

His son nodded again, a smile on his face.

"Hm. What are you going to do about that?"

Harry thought for a moment, then glanced at James. "I'm going to marry her, and then we can be like you and Mummy."

James looked at Harry with a smile on his face, shaking his head.

"Aren't you a little bit young to be liking girls? I don't think I even noticed them till I was at least thirteen."

"Thirteen?"

"That's another eight years, mate. Long time." James watched Harry, who was blinking at him from behind his glasses.

"Daddy," said Harry, resting against his father, "when's the baby going to get here?"

James explained that it wouldn't be for a few months yet, and Harry said to promise that he'd be told when the baby was on its way, because he really wanted someone else to play with.

"I promise," said James, and Harry nodded solemnly. He began to swing his legs, and held onto his Dad's hand. James watched his son, and marvelled at how perfect one little person could be.