Severus hoped this wasn't a bad idea. His doubts came from the fact that Charlotte was only two. He was afraid others who were there would get annoyed at the parents (them) who brought a screaming child to a ballgame they'd paid their hard-earned money to see.

Not that Charlotte was prone to fits, but he knew that toddlers were a wild card. Hermione assured him that taking a toddler to a baseball game was not a big deal even in this time. He had to trust her. What he knew about such things was pretty much nothing.

Thomas, for his part, was itching to go. How did Severus know that? He could feel him practically … bouncing on Severus' lap from the excitement. Neither of them liked traveling with the children on their laps in automobiles, but it was the only way to get to muggle things like baseball games. This wasn't Thomas' first American baseball game and Severus suspected, with his son's affection and interest in the game, that it wouldn't be his last. They'd taken Thomas to other countries, but America was the only one they'd returned to purposely because of a game.

This would be Charlotte's first baseball game. He hoped that Hermione was right and it didn't end up being a horrible outing. The first part of their vacation had been … nice. He'd never been to Boston (and was admittedly a little disappointed the USS Constitution Museum wouldn't be a thing for about forty years) and truthfully had never taken the time to learn much about it so it was new to him. The kids had enjoyed it, too, he knew, even if Charlotte would never remember any of the things they did on this trip. It would be a shame to end it on a down note.

Young Charlotte and Thomas were dressed impeccably as were he and his wife for an afternoon taking in a muggle baseball game. He'd never really paid much attention to historical photographs of sporting events, but he realized the people of the time they were apart of would probably have heart palpitations at the idea of spectators taking in ball games in the future in tank tops and shorts, or no shirts.

Babe Ruth retired the month before. Hermione's dream of getting an autographed baseball on the chance she ever had reason to give it to her dad had thankfully not been missed. The player probably thought the ball was for Thomas. He hadn't bothered to correct the man's presumptions. Hermione wanted very little. If an autographed baseball was what she wanted, Severus obtained it for her.

(He imagined one day Thomas might remember getting a ball autographed by Babe Ruth and wonder where the ball was. Severus assumed he had years to concoct a viable story. That was, of course, assuming the ball ever left his and his wife's possession. He had no idea when she'd have the chance to give it to her father.)

He had, of course, brought Thomas along when trying to get the ball signed. He wasn't stupid, and knew a young child being with him would be more apt to result in the ball getting signed. Severus wouldn't say Thomas loved baseball more than quidditch, but it was pretty close. Quidditch was his favourite, but Severus suspected that had to do with the fact he'd seen and heard about it more frequently. He was, in fact (much to Hermione's chagrin) already talking of playing quidditch when he got to Hogwarts. His exposure to baseball was really only on these trips. Though he and Thomas had played many games of catch over the years. Severus imagined there were still many more in store for him.

Finally, they'd arrived at Yankee Stadium and the four of them were on their way into the ballpark just as the other fans were doing.

"Mum's going to show me how to keep score," Thomas said, peering at Severus. His dark eyes told him there was something on the boy's mind.

"She told me," Severus said.

He had no idea how Hermione knew how to even do such a thing. Her father he supposed. Things he never had a chance to know anything about. He was glad Thomas, and Charlotte, were getting that chance. Hermione thought of things like this, and really they were as much a gift to Severus as they were their children. He imagined she knew that, though she never said. She wouldn't do that.

"Can't you teach me?" Thomas asked.

Ah. There was the reason for that rather petulant-looking expression. He clearly did not like taking lessons on a boy's sport from his mother.

"I'm afraid on this your mother has the knowledge where I do not. I have no problem with that, Thomas, nor should you."

"Fine," he said and Severus couldn't help but chuckle softly at the boy's response.

It was so hard to think that in less than eight years this child could murder someone. Hopefully, what they'd done thus far meant Myrtle Warren would have a long and productive life. He just didn't know. Looking at his son, though, pouting over being taught something he thought a girl shouldn't teach him. It was just so hard to fathom it was even a possibility.

An idea occurred to him. Something he thought would … appeal to his son. Thomas didn't have occasion to know he was the smartest child in a room very often. Healer Laranda's children were older than Thomas. There were a few others Hermione had warmed to who their children did things with, but it was usually an activity. So, Thomas hadn't yet had the opportunity to realize just how smart he was compared to others.

Severus and Hermione tried not to fawn over his intellect either. They were encouraging and positive while not trying to fill his head with him being the most intelligent boy that ever lived. It was a fine line to walk, to be encouraging and let him know they were aware he could do things they asked him to do yet not make him think he knew more than they did.

He'd taken to his lessons easily and more than capably with Hermione as both of them knew he would. He just had no other students to compare his achievements and improvements against to know he measured up. He did see first year Hogwarts students and, especially now that he was almost nine and close to being a Hogwarts student himself, noticed things students came to his mum for help for.

Severus stooped then, tugging slightly on the bill of his son's flat cap. He had Thomas' attention when he met his eyes with his own.

"Maybe the next time we come to a game you can teach me how to keep score," Severus offered.

He knew that was precisely the right thing to say as he watched his son's eyes widen in sheer delight. At this point, he still thought his dad's knowledge was rather limitless.

"Really?"

"Yes."

Thomas frowned then, and Severus wondered what brought that on. He knew that teaching his father something would appeal to the boy.

"Why hasn't she ever taught you?" He sounded rather suspicious. As if he thought his parents had been to dozens of games prior to bringing Thomas to any and therefore his mum should have taught him long ago.

"I guess I've never asked." He feigned adjusting his son's jacket and tie. He looked fine. "I don't want to admit to your mother she knows more about something than I do." He winked then and Thomas laughed. Thomas seemed to recognize that there were things his mum knew more about and things his dad knew more about. They had tried to teach him that.

In addition to his personal academic lessons, Thomas still attended the tutoring sessions that Hermione hosted weeknights in his classroom most evenings. Severus nor Hermione had any doubt Thomas was ready for Hogwarts when the time came. He'd asked his father more than once why he didn't do those sessions versus his mum. Severus had admitted that while he could hold his own when it came to Charms and Transfiguration, Thomas' mum was much better at things like Runes and Arithmancy than he was. Not to mention his mum had patience with dunderheads where Severus had little.

He had assured his young son with a wink that there was absolutely nothing wrong with acknowledging a woman was smarter or better in things. Hermione would undoubtedly bow to his expertise when it came to Dark Arts or Potions. She had, in fact, called him to his classroom on more than one occasion when the question about those subjects exceeded her comfort level. Thomas saw her do it, too.

Severus believed that it was important for this boy, Thomas, to see that everyone had something to bring. That someone not knowing something in one subject didn't mean they were lesser than. That being a man did not instantly mean superiority, though many especially in this time certainly liked to believe so. That didn't mean Severus was going to teach that drivel to his son. Or his daughter.

Or any of his students. He liked to think that by supporting Hermione's tutoring sessions, by allowing them to be in his classroom to this day, that he was showing other people's sons and daughters these things as well.

Severus stood then, confident he had given his son something to look forward to.

Yankee Stadium was indeed an impressive structure. Even Severus could admit to enjoying being a part of history in instances like this. He could do without being amongst over forty-five thousand other people, but it was America's Independence Day so at least everyone was in good spirits.

The Yankees won, Thomas had a completed scorecard that he'd written in. Thomas' favorite player was Tony Lazzeri. His reason? He was the only player on this date who had hit a home run. While Hermione took Charlotte to walk around the area some, Severus and Thomas went off in search of the exit the players would come out of so his son could get his scorecard autographed by Mr. Lazzeri.

"You're from England," the ballplayer said to Thomas.

"Yes, Sir," he said.

"That's a long way to come to see us play. I'm glad we won for you. Are you going to see fireworks tonight?"

"Yes!"

Severus chuckled. He wasn't sure how Hermione thought of this, but this trip so far had been a nice one. They'd been in America a week. They'd done all of the tourist things at their first stop in Boston, coming to New York to see today's baseball game. Tomorrow they'd be taking in the zoo before heading back to Britain and their house.

Severus knew Hermione was feeling guilty about leaving the elves to work without her for a week. Thomas' good time was worth it, though. He knew she agreed. Charlotte, at just over two wouldn't remember any of this. Or very little of it. Severus was sure one day, sooner than he imagined, there'd be a vacation geared toward Charlotte's interests.

"Was this your first game?"

"My second."

"Oh really?"

"Our third actually. I thought he remembered the first one, but it seems not. We saw you play six and four years ago," Severus said. "We actually came to visit Boston this trip, but he wanted to see the Yankees. You've hit home runs each game we've been to."

"You must be my good luck charm then," he said, handing the autographed scorecard back to Thomas, ruffling his hair. "What's your name?"

"Thomas Prins."

"Well, Thomas, thank you for coming."

"Thank you, Sir," he said, gesturing to the scorecard.

"You're welcome."

The player offered Severus his hand, which he took and shook.

"Thank you," Severus said.

"It's nice to meet fans from around the world."

The player left then and Thomas was practically bouncing on his heels.

"He signed it, Dad!" He held up the scorecard for Severus to see. "He really signed it!"

"I know. That was very nice of him."

"It was," he handed the scorecard to Severus.

"You want me to hold it?"

"You won't ruin it," he said.

"Ah," he said.

"Thank you, Father."

"You're welcome, but it was your mum's idea to come to this game."

"I know, but you came here with me," he said, gesturing to the exit area.

Severus nodded.

"Have you enjoyed your vacation, Son?"

"Yes."

"And you get fireworks tonight, too."

"I know. Can we get ice cream?"

"I'm sure that can be arranged."

"Can Char have some, too?"

"Probably a taste," Severus said.

Thomas seemed to think on this for a bit. "She cries a lot," the boy observed.

"So did you. From my understanding, in my limited experience with young children, that being you and now your sister, that's what babies do."

"I did?" he asked. He truly sounded as if he didn't know this was true. Or that he didn't think he had done the very same things Charlotte was doing now.

"You did. That's how babies tell us they need things, Thomas."

"Things?" He furrowed his brow, clearly trying to ascertain what things his father could be talking about. It wasn't often Severus saw a look of … not knowing in this boy's eyes.

"Well, yes. Things. Such as food, clean clothes, or just to be held. Babies can't talk right away. You are able to tell your mum and me when you are hungry or when you've stubbed your toe. Charlotte cannot do that verbally so she cries, fusses, or whines."

Thomas nodded then, apparently understanding.

"I promise you that she will learn to talk and communicate the same as you did. It will take time, but you can help her learn just as your mother and I do. Talk to her, not at her. She's a baby, so small words but repetitiveness is good. Just be glad you are not the one who had to get up with her every three or four hours."

"Who did that?" Severus wasn't sure his son really understood what every three to four hours meant. He had a sense of time, but he wasn't sure Thomas had ever stopped to think how many hours passed between the time he went to bed and woke up each morning.

"Your mum."

"Why?"

"To feed her. She did with you, too."

"You didn't?"

"I'm afraid there are things fathers cannot do. I assisted as best I could by giving you a bath once in a while and such, but she was far more comfortable handling you when you were that small."

"Why?"

"I'd never been around children until you."

"Mum hadn't either." It was interesting he retained that piece of information.

"No, but your mum is a more naturally caring person than I am."

"Like when she kisses my cuts?"

"Yes, exactly like that. She just knew to do those things. You be sure to thank her for today's baseball game, too, at some point, Thomas. We didn't have to come to New York, but she knew you like baseball and the Yankees."

"I will," he said. Severus chuckled at the resigned tone to the boy's voice.

"Good boy. Now, let's go find your mum and sister."

"When do I start Hogwarts?"

"In three years. 1938."

He nodded. He knew this. He had asked the question and had the answer given prior to today several times already.

"Because I was born in December."

"Exactly."

"That's so dumb."

"I do not know why the rule is what it is, but it is how muggle schools work, too, I believe."

"I'm glad Mum is my teacher."

"That pleases me that you say so. I am glad she is your teacher, too. She is more than capable and will ensure you know what you need to, not just for Hogwarts but your future."

"I know."

"Good," he said.

Severus ensured the scorecard Thomas had entrusted him with was protected. There was no telling when they'd return to their hotel room to put it away.

Thomas sat in his bed, covers pushed aside as he ran his finger along the various boxes on the scorecard. The room was dark, only a little light was coming in from the moon through a window. He still couldn't believe Tony Lazzeri had signed it! He was never going to lose this scorecard as long as he lived!

The fireworks had been incredible. He'd snuck Char more than one taste of his ice cream. He was pretty sure Dad knew that. It was just vanilla. There were no nuts in it for her to choke on. He knew to watch for that. His mum had told him when she baked things like pies and brownies. Anything, really. That she could choke on something that he knew to chew.

He sighed, knowing they were going back home the day after tomorrow. He didn't really want to. He loved his house, but there were so many things they could still do here. He'd heard his mum and dad say that they'd be back. So, he supposed he had that to look forward to.

He listened. All was quiet. His parents and Charlotte seemed to be sleeping. He thought about what his dad said about Charlotte. About him having done those same things. Did his mum still wake up with Char? He really never noticed. He supposed he wasn't meant to.

Three years until Hogwarts. Three years until he could start using magic away from his mum and dad. Today while they were watching the baseball game, Thomas wondered if there was ever a baseball player who was magical. Would that be cheating? His mum and dad had taught him that cheating was bad. That using magic to get things easily or that he wouldn't normally be able to get was wrong.

What would a magical baseball player do? Who would know? There was a rule in place that they couldn't talk about magic. His parents called it a statue, which made no sense. Statues weren't laws. He never asked because he didn't want to sound dumb. He'd looked it up in a dictionary, though, and there was no other meaning for statue.

His eyes got heavy. He felt the scorecard slip through his fingers, but was too tired to catch it. A slight smile was on his lips as he fell asleep thinking about Char's face at her first taste of ice cream.

July 1998

"It's hotter than hell out," Ron said. "What do you say we get some ice cream?"

Charlie, Fred, and George all nodded in agreement. They were spending the afternoon in Diagon Alley. None of the four wizards had anything in particular to buy, but the twins' store was closed for a rare day off since Charlie was in town.

"Hello boys," Florean Fortescue called out as they entered.

"Hello, Mr. Fortescue," they called out almost in unison.

"Come in to get something cold?"

"You know it," Charlie said.

"Well, what will you have?"

The four wizards went on to order their ice cream, enjoying their treat on the blazing hot afternoon.

"Oh, look, there's Lavender," Fred and George said together, both waggling their eyebrows at Ron.

"Don't be mental. She's not my type."

"If you say so. You sure did seem to like kissing her."

"Yeah, when I was sixteen."

"And now that you're a whopping eighteen you don't anymore?"

"Shut it," he said, but he knew he was blushing. He did wonder what she was doing with her summer. She looked good; he couldn't help but notice that. Maybe his brothers weren't so dumb after all.

Fred seemed to read his mind, knocking on the window to get her attention as she passed by. It was weird to think that he wouldn't see her in September again since they finished Hogwarts this year. Was he supposed to ask to see her? He had no idea what she was even doing. For that matter, he wasn't even sure why they'd broken up.

He and his brothers waved to her from their table. She came in, joining them for ice cream, too. He supposed now was as good a time as any to find out where she'd gotten a job.

Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com