"Your mother does have a very nice arse," Kirley said, closing his eyes for a moment. Sierra had drawn his attention for a reason, after all. "That seems about right." He grinned a little. "You know, we're both lucky in a way. You got to have me as a dad, but I get to skip the sticky fingers part of watching you grow-up." Probably not the most sensitive thing to say, and not a few people probably would have hexed him for it, but hopefully she knew he didn't mean anything by it. "I'm sorry she's not here. She'd have livened this place up. Maybe she'll show up here. It does seem to draw families."
Kirley nodded. "Music, art, Quidditch. We need to show these Muggle children that the wizarding world has a lot to offer them aside death and war and shit." He grinned again. "Maybe I should offer to go talk to them. If we send all these gloom and doom types, who'd want to come to a dreary old castle in Scotland?" He couldn't imagine very many families would agree.
"Maybe we can find out. There's got to be something in the newspapers this lot has been collecting. Potter isn't the only famous person, after all." He might be the most famous person, but newspapers had a lot of space to fill. "If it'll be better to know, I'll help you look." He wasn't sure of that, but he didn't like anyone he cared about being unhappy--and Savannah might be twenty years older than he remembered, but he did care about her. He'd never wanted to be a father, but he supposed his kid had turned out all right. "I know, and you love me. Or you did when you were four. I can't imagine that's changed. I'm very loveable."