Harry pushed on the gas pedal, and the car barely made it through the stop light. Legally, at least. With a sigh of relief, he turned left onto his street and then another sharp right into his driveway. He had hardly turned off the car when he was grabbing his briefcase, loosening his tie, and running through the front door.

"Hello?" he called, seeing if they had left without him, when a rambunctious six year old boy skidded through the front hallway, giggling and screaming the way that only little children can. Harry smiled, all of his worries momentarily gone.

Then, much to his surprise, a tall, gangly, red haired man came skidding after him, looking a little distraught. "James!" he said. "James, come back here!" Then he noticed Harry. "Oh, er, Harry. Nice to see you. We were just…" He ran a hand through his hair. "Er, yeah. I'll go get James."

Harry laughed. "It's fine, Ron." He raised his voice so it could be heard at the other end of the house. "Are there any sacks of potatoes in this house?"

A brunette woman with a kind smile rounded the corner, holding the same giggling and screaming six year old over her shoulder as he wiggled. "I think I found one." she said, winking.

Harry took the child from her, held him over his head, and examined him. "Ah, a perfect sack of potatoes."

"Daddy, I'm a boy!"

"It talks!" Harry said, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Daddy, it's me, James!"

Harry poked his son in the stomach. "Why, this looks like a little boy, not a sack of potatoes. I think you're sorely mistaken, ma'am." He put the child down, whereupon James immediately hugged his father's legs. "Are you ready for your football match?"

He nodded. "Daddy, what did you get for snack?"

"What do you mean?"

"We bring snack today. For after the game."

There was an audible sigh, and Harry unattached himself from James. "I'll have to run out, buddy. I forgot."

"It's okay, Harry, we got something today at the store on our way over to pick James up."

"Thanks Hermione." Harry gave his friends a grateful smile. "I've just been so busy lately, what with the firm cracking down on our hours, and with the layoffs everyone's getting more work reassigned to them..." He trailed off helplessly.

"We understand, mate." Ron said. "Come on, we'd better get going. We'll take two cars, the snack's in ours, and we'll head home after dinner."

After Harry changed into more casual clothes, the troupe piled into their separate cars and drove the few miles to James's football pitch. In Harry's car, he had a jabbering six year old to contend with who wanted to tell him all about daycare and his lunch and the playground and how cool Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione were. Harry usually loved hearing his favorite person talk to him—he knew he wasn't going to have a sullen child who grew up to be in gangs—but for the past few months, he had lost interest. He just couldn't bring himself to go through the motions anymore.

And so, on a Friday night when Harry just wanted to be sleeping or eating or sleeping, he refused to put up with two annoying parents from the opposing team.

It had started out innocently enough, at first. James was playing forward and wasn't enjoying a wonderful first half. A little platinum blonde haired child was playing goalie for the opposing team, and was doing a fair job at blocking most of the goals put at him, including the ones tried by James. Apparently, the parents sitting two rows behind Harry, Ron, and Hermione were the parents of the goalie. The dad kept yelling at him, encouraging him to smash the competition and yelling and cheering loudly every time he blocked a goal.

As they got into the second half of the game, however, James's team picked it up. The score was soon 4-4, and there wasn't much time left. As the ball changed feet, the tiger parents were yelling at their son to 'stay alert' and 'block those goals,' and not to let that 'scumbag team' have the win.

Harry, frankly, was shocked that they would go that far. At first, he had ignored them, not really wanting to deal with anything. But when James made a shot and missed, they went one step too far. "Nice job, Scorpius!" the dad yelled. "Way to block that idiot!"

The trio turned around and stared directly at the parents, who didn't seem to notice. "Excuse me?" Harry asked. But the pair was too busy to listen, as James once again had the ball and was going to take the final shot.

"Block it!" the dad screamed. "Block it!"

"You can do it, James!" Harry shouted.

"Go James!" "Come on, James!" Ron and Hermione joined in, if only trying to drown out the negative comments behind them.

As James kicked, Harry could have sworn he was holding his breath. Scorpius dived, but missed, and the ball hit the back of the net with a satisfying 'swoosh.'

All of the parents on James's team stood up and cheered, and most of the parents from the other team clapped politely and smiled at each other, because it was only a children's game and it didn't really matter. Well, it didn't matter to many people.

The angry parents stood up and stomped down the bleachers. "I wonder what's got in their britches," Harry muttered. "Come on, let's go set up snack."

As soon as they had gotten to the bottom of the steps, they ran into the by now quite irritating parents. "Good game," Ron said, smiling. "Wasn't it?"

"Would have been better if you'd have lost." The dad sniffed.

"What did you just say?" Hermione put an arm on her husband's shoulder to keep him from getting too angry.

"I said, you should've lost. Your child made a pitiful shot."

"Yeah, well your child did a pitiful job of blocking it!" Harry said, turning around. Hermione shot him a look that said 'stop it and don't make a scene.'

"How dare you say that! Scorpius has been trained by the finest football professionals; your child had sheer luck."

"Professionals? He's six years old!"

"He's advanced for his age."

"Who do you think you are, anyway, that you have the right to be criticizing my son?"

"I am Draco Malfoy, head of Malfoy Corporations. You may have heard of me and my company." He looked into the distance as though he had better places to be than arguing with someone who was clearly not worth his time nor his effort.

Harry had, in fact, heard of Malfoy Corporations in passing, but he wasn't about to tell him that. "Actually, no, I haven't. But I have heard you and your unfounded large ego, so I'll just be going to congratulate my child on his winning shot now."

"Your child doesn't even know how to play football! Scorpius is clearly the better player!" Draco was fuming and yelling by this point.

Harry glowered at him, but before he had a chance to retort smartly, a woman with a pad of paper and a carrier full of water bottles interjected.

"Hey, you two! Break it up."

Harry recognized her as Ginny Cartwright, the head coach of James's team. "Oh, hello, Ginny." he said, mildly embarrassed. Hermione shot him an 'I told you so' look very triumphantly.

"I don't know what you two are fighting about, but that was a clean and fair game. I don't want any of this on my pitch."

Draco muttered something, and then "Come on, Astoria. We'll leave this pitiful team. See you in the playoffs. We expect to win next time."

Harry clenched his fists, but didn't say anything.

"Those parents are always causing trouble. They started another fight last year, too." She sighed. "You're…?"

"Harry Potter," he said, sticking his hand out. "I'm James's dad."

"Alright, James's dad, come join the team meeting. Didn't you have snack?"

"Yeah, right." He picked up the cartons of juice boxes he had set down in the heat of the fight, and carried them over to a table. Ron put the granola bars and chips down, and a hoard of hungry little children mobbed them. Ron chuckled.

"Kids."

"Yeah."

Ginny called a team meeting, and Ron and Hermione held back with the other spectators as Harry went to listen with the parents.

"Good job today, team!" she said, and there was a cheer from proud parents and hyper children. "Now, that was our last game of the regular season. I'm very excited to tell you that our record was a winning one, and I'm confident that we'll do well in the playoffs. Our first game is versus the Tigers, a team that we've previously played and beat. We play here next Saturday at 7. Please be here at a quarter after six, playoff games usually take a bit of setup. See you then!" As everyone dispersed, she called out. "Potter! Can I talk to you?"

Harry gulped, feeling like the kid called out by the teacher. "Sure, what about? And call me Harry, please."

"Thank you for coming today, Harry. James was telling me that he didn't know if you would make it because of work, but it seemed really important to him."

Harry tried to smile awkwardly. "Yeah, no problem." He just wanted to leave. Maybe eat some fish and chips. Sit on the couch. He didn't want to deal with people, or problems, or talk about things and pretend they were okay when they weren't.

"He tells the team that you save the world," she said, smiling.

"Oh," Harry laughed a little. "I'm a criminal prosecutor. James thinks I catch the bad guys, but I really just put them in jail."

Ginny smiled at him, a real, genuine, nice feeling smile. "That's just as important. But I've gathered that things are a little busy for you right now. I just wanted to let you know that you don't have to bring snack or do the parent volunteer. Just focus on being a dad. Make sure James practices, and that he's nice to the other team and all, okay?"

"Thank you, Ginny. I'll do that."

"See you Saturday, Harry," she said, and walked away to corral two quarrelling children. He sighed a little bit as he watched after her. She was nice. But he didn't have time for a relationship that he could get his heart broken in.

He got James and somewhat listened to his play-by-play account of the game as they drove to a restaurant, where Harry promptly slid into the booth across from Ron and Hermione and put his head against the window.

"Hey, Harry, are you alright?" Ron asked, as James colored his menu.

"Yeah, yeah, fine. Just a long week. Looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow." He forced a cheery smile and sat up.

"Good. We've got something quite exciting to tell you." he responded, grinning from ear to ear.

"Oh, really? What is it?"

They were interrupted by the waitress, who had their food. James smiled and dug into his mac and cheese, while Harry finally got his fish and chips. As soon as she had left, Harry pressed Ron again.

"Well…" Ron said, glancing at Hermione. "Go ahead."

"I'm pregnant!" she said, practically bursting.

"That's amazing!" Harry said. "Congrats!" He really was happy for them, too. They'd been helping him out for the past two years by taking care of James after he got home from school, and he'd known that they absolutely loved kids. Hermione was going to be a great mother and Ron would be a brilliant dad. But at the same time, he felt a twinge of jealousy. Harry had always wanted more kids, but after the divorce, he knew it was just going to be him and James.

Hermione and Ron talked for a while about the baby, and how the baby and James were going to be great friends, but Harry's mind somehow drifted to Ginny and how good she was with kids. After they had paid for the meal and exchanged last congratulations, Harry drove James home and put him to bed.

He ended up on the couch, watching the news, and sorting through cases. He was at his wit's end. Now that Hermione and Ron were going to have a baby, Harry couldn't expect them to keep watching James. Work was becoming more stressful, he was taking on more cases, and he didn't even have time to do the dishes. A stack from that morning lay unwashed in the sink, and Harry didn't feel like even putting them in the dishwasher. He fell asleep on the couch and woke up at two in the morning, worked for an hour, and then went to bed.

It seemed to Harry as though the days between James's final regular game and his first playoff game dragged along more slowly than he could bear. When Saturday finally rolled around, it was both a blessing and a curse. He got up at nine, much too early for his liking, and started on the huge mound of dishes that had accumulated since Hermione had taken pity and washed them on Monday. When James walked downstairs at ten-thirty, he was up to his elbows in bubbles.

Giggling, James sat on the kitchen stool and watched for a minute. "Daddy, can I have the cartoons? This is boring."

"Sure thing." Harry rinsed off the last dish, laid it in the dish rack, and dried his hands to change the channel. "Wanna help me dry dishes?"

James shook his head. "You're good at dishes. Who taught you?"

"Long story. We'll eat breakfast first."

So they ate breakfast. And then they watched cartoons. And then it was one, and the dishes were still in the rack, so Harry resigned himself to drying them alone as James took a nap. Saturday dragged along just as the rest of the week, but it seemed more busy and tiring than the rest. Playing with James, making dinner, eating dinner, the rush to get out the door so they wouldn't be late, it all seemed tiring.

Harry dropped James off at a quarter after six, just on time, and sat in his car in the parking lot for the rest of the time until the game. It was a little cold out, and he had work to do. Ron and Hermione pulled in next to him at ten to seven, and together they made the trek up to the field.

The game went over smoothly, and James's team won by a comfortable margin. He made a good shot or two, and scored a goal. But for Harry, the best part of the day was after the game. While the kids were eating, the redhead coach he'd thought about for much of the past week walked up to him.

"Hi, Harry." she said.

"Hello." He tried to smile and hoped it didn't look awkward.

"James played quite well today," she commented, and smiled back.

"Er, yeah, I think he did, too. But I'm biased," he added quickly, not wanting her to think he was boasting.

She laughed, and they fell into easier conversation about football and her job and a little of his job. The entire time, Harry was self-conscious, but he couldn't figure out why until he said something he felt he was going to regret.

"I really like your hair today."

Staring at him, she cautiously replied. "Thanks?"

"Yeah. Um. Sorry. That was weird, wasn't it?"

"No, no, it was fine. It was nice of you. I like yours, too."

Harry managed a laugh at this one. "I'm not sure I even remembered to comb it this morning." He ran a hand through it and tried to make it a little neater.

"What's that?" Ginny mustered up the courage to gently touch his forehead over a faint scar that slightly resembled a lightning bolt.

"Oh, nothing. Car crash." he mumbled. "Anyway, I'd better be going. Thanks for the conversation."

"No problem, see you next week." Ginny put up a hand and waved tentatively, wondering the whole time if she'd said something wrong.

Harry returned the next week ready to talk to Ginny. She was a sliver of sanity in his otherwise insane life. James's team won again, and Harry found himself a little happier and a little more interested. That Saturday, they discussed the team and James, and exchanged a couple lines about the weather (cold, as usual, and neither could wait for summer).

James's team kept winning, and Harry kept having his conversations with Ginny. He got to know her much better, and soon he discovered that he liked her. She had five brothers, all redheads, too; she loved almonds; she enjoyed rainy days more than cloudy ones; she liked vanilla ice cream more than chocolate.

And slowly, but surely, he fell in love.

On a particularly warm day, James played his semifinal game. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all cheered him on loudly and were more than excited when he scored a goal to tie the game. As James was about to take a penalty shot that could win the game for his team, the trio heard another voice root for James.

"Go, James!"

All three recognized the voice, and turned their heads. They missed the penalty shot. James made it, and they won the game, but that was the last thing on their minds.

"We'll take James home," Ron said. "D'you want to deal with that?"

"Yeah." Harry said quietly. He stepped carefully down the bleachers and stepped in front of the woman he dreaded. He blocked her from walking towards James.

"Harry?" she wrinkled her nose. "I'm here to talk to you, but I'd like to see James first."

"Lavender, that's not how this works. You're allowed to see him once a month only, and at my house, and I have to be there."

She sniffed. "Well, not any more. I put a new plea in with a judge for custody once a week. I plan on him approving it, so I'll take James home after the game."

"What?" Harry recoiled. "Why?"

"Because he's my son, too."

"But he's in my custody. And the judge hasn't approved you yet, so I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Oh, he'll call you tomorrow, I'm sure. And I don't plan to rescind my argument. Unless…"

"Unless what?" The wheels in Harry's mind were turning, and he came to a conclusion that she only wanted one thing. "Hold on, don't tell me." He walked back to behind the field, and she followed him.

"Where are we going?"

"Storage closet." He opened the door to the closet, a place he'd helped Ginny put away equipment before. Pulling her in, he stared her down. "Go on, but choose your words wisely."

"I want five thousand pounds, cash."

"Are you threatening me?"

"I can make your life miserable, Harry. I know all of your weak points."

"But you still can't get James. You can't get to him through me."

"I've got a new lawyer now. A better one. I'm off parole and I've improved my life. I have responsible friends and a responsible job. You can't stop me."

He took two steps towards her until their faces were almost touching. "You will never have James. Never."

Just then, the door swung open to reveal Ginny, who was holding a sack of footballs and cones. "Harry?" she asked, her voice giving away her surprise.

He turned his head more quickly than he thought was possible. "Ginny. I-"

"Oh, do you have a new girlfriend now? A new plaything?" Lavender sneered and turned to Ginny. "Has he prosecuted you yet? He'll come after you and take everything you have." She walked out, heels clicking. "I won't take him yet. But there better be an envelope on my desk by the end of the week." Then, she was gone.

Harry leaned against the wall and slid to the floor, his head in his hands.

"What was that?" Ginny asked. "I mean, I thought we…" She trailed off as she saw tears from behind his hands. "Oh, Harry." She sat down next to him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

"No, no, you're fine." he said, wiping his eyes to erase any signs of his tears. "That wasn't anyone."

"It sure looked like someone," she shot back, snorting.

"It was my ex-wife. Lavender."

"Oh."

"Apparently, she's off parole."

"Parole?"

"I put her in jail."

"For what?"

"Beating James."

"Oh." Ginny drew in a sharp breath.

"Yeah." It was quiet. Ginny got up and began to put things away, trying to give Harry space. "You don't have to say anything," she said. "I just want you to know that I'm here. If you need."

After a few minutes, Harry spoke up. "You remember my scar?"

"Mmhmm."

"I said it was a car crash. It was, but my parents were also in the car. I was one. They died."

"Oh Harry, I'm so sorry."

"My aunt and uncle got custody of me. My mom's sister was the only family I had left apart from my godfather, but he was fighting in the war, so I couldn't stay with him. They…I mean, looking back, it was bloody well near abuse the way they treated me. My bed was in a cupboard under some stairs. If it wasn't for a scholarship to a boarding school, I would've never gotten out. I was grateful, but then I found out they rigged the scholarship so they wouldn't have to have me anymore. Boarding school was like my aunt and uncle's all over again, so I got bitter. I worked hard, and I studied, and I didn't do anything else. I went to college on money that my parents left me, and I became a lawyer to help people. I made an honest living, married a nice girl I met at college, and that was that. But then she abused James, so I got a divorce and sent her to jail. Now she wants more money so that she can-" He choked up, and rested his head on his knees.

Ginny, who had been listening, was horrified. "So she can what?"

"She wants more money, or else she's going to get James again."

"They won't let her do that," Ginny said quickly.

"The court is always more sympathetic towards reformed mothers. She hasn't had a speck of dust on her transcript since she got jailed."

"Well, maybe she's changed?"

"She hasn't. I can tell. It's the look in her eyes." He put his head up, and looked at Ginny. "I just want to give up, okay?"

"You can't give up, not now." She pleaded with him. "You have to stay strong, for James. For me. Alright?"

He smiled sadly, and he was about to say something, until she stopped him by kissing him softly.

"I love you." she said.

"I love you." he said back. Holding on to her hand right then, he could somehow believe that everything would be okay.

Monday morning, at work, his secretary knocked on his door.

"Come in," he said.

"Call for you on line one." she said, and then left.

He pushed the blinking button. "Hello?"

"Mr. Potter, my name is Judge Finch-Fletchley. You may remember me from your divorce case last year?"

"Of course, sir."

"I'm calling to inform you that your ex-wife has put in a plea to obtain once-weekly custody of your son."

"She has made me aware of it. She came to my son's soccer game last week."

"I wanted to let you know that in no way will we be allowing her to obtain this custody. If she proves that she is on good behavior permanently, we may discuss expanding her visitation rights, but her current request will not be honored."

Harry was on cloud nine. "Thank you sir, thank you so much."

"Have a good day."

As soon as Harry hung up, he got out a card and dialed the number on it. "Hello, Ginny? It's Harry."

"Thank you for a wonderful afternoon." Ginny said.

"The pleasure was all mine, Ms. Cartwright."

"Are we going back to your house? So soon. I'm scandalized." Ginny put a hand over her heart.

"Just to pick up James," Harry laughed. "Then we're going to the finals, or had you forgotten?"

"How could I forget?" she smiled. "I've been so lucky to have such an amazing team."

As Harry pulled in, he put up a hand. "Save that for the field. You'll make me cry." He made exaggerated motions as if he was wiping away tears.

"Man up, Potter!"

Harry made a face at her as he entered the house. A few minutes later, he emerged with James, Ron, and Hermione.

As James got into the car, he stared at Ginny.

"Dad, are you going to marry Coach Ginny?"

The two adults exploded in laughter, but each couldn't help but hope that it might be true.

Harry sat in the bleachers for all of the pre-game practice, watching Ginny run up and down the field with her team.

"Man, Harry, you've got it bloody bad for her."

"Shut up, Ron." He and Hermione both laughed, and Harry just tried to keep from blushing. "So what if I do?"

"We're happy for you, Harry." Hermione insisted. "It's really nice to see you two together."

A perfect moment couldn't stay perfect for long, though—two unwelcome faces passed them on their way up the bleachers.

"Draco," Harry muttered. "Just what we needed."

"So you made it to the finals," Draco called.

"As did you." Harry said, without turning around. "Now we'll see who's really the better team."

"Ours, of course." Draco sighed. "The game is only a formality."

"We'll see."

The game was no less of a nail-biter than it was destined to be. Things couldn't just keep turning out. James's team was down by two at the half, then made their way back up to a tie. Lorcan, one of James's teammates, made a shot with twenty seconds left. The whole stadium held its collective breath for what seemed like an eternity, and then there was a satisfying roar as it went into the net.

For a kid's football match, winning had never felt better.

Draco, who knew he was defeated, passed Harry in silence. Harry couldn't care less—there were only two people on his mind.

First, he congratulated James and hugged him tightly. "Good job, bud. I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks, dad." James said, grinning, and then ran over to hug his aunt and uncle.

Harry then strode over to Ginny, stood in front of her, and kissed her. "Good job today, coach." he whispered.

"Couldn't have done it without you."

"What did I do?" he asked, laughing.

"Good point. I could've done it without you. But it was nice to have you here."

"Hush," he said, and kissed her again. The kiss was full of promises, of a future, of marriage and three kids and a house and a lawn and getting old together on their front porch, and that was exactly what Harry intended to do.

Ginny showed him hope, and in hope was love.

A/N: This was written for the Modern!AU Competition with the summary, call, and "I just want to give up, okay?" as prompts. Also written for the If You Dare Challenge for the prompt midlife crisis.

Because there isn't enough Hinny in the world.

Allie