Maria von Trapp looked carefully at the scene laid out before her. How, she thought to herself, do you solve a problem like Harry Potter?

“I don’t want to climb every mountain,” Harry said, his eyes gazing into hers. “I want to climb yours.”

“Goodness,” Maria said. “I don’t know what your governess told you, but courtship does not begin well with platitudes like that. And regardless, I am married to the Captain. And, even if it were not for all that, I am at least twice your age. Kindly turn your affections to someone more appropriate.”

Somewhere in the distance, there was the sound of metal against metal. Maria sighed. A Cyberman army, again.

Harry took a grape from one of the bunches he had carefully placed around the chaise longue and played with it with his tongue for a while. “There is none more appropriate than you.”

Outside, a man died.

With an exasperated sigh, Maria threw up her hands and started pacing around the room. “No, you see, this simply will not do,” she muttered, before turning to the boy wizard with an accusatory look. “And goodness me, what are you wearing?”

“Brown paper,” he replied, gazing at her with awestruck eyes. “I’m tied up with you, and I’ve got something I hope will be your favourite.”

From the other side of the house came an unmistakable trundling sound; the Cyberman onslaught came to a tentative halt. Daleks, Maria thought.

“Good Lord!” The Captain shouted with such intensity that the room shook; the door slamming behind him was like a bolt of thunder. “Boy, what the blazes is going on here?”

“Jean-Luc, I’m glad you’re here,” Maria said. She immediately stood behind him as he boldly strode forward. “He won’t stop.”

“Now listen here,” Captain Picard said. “I’m the Captain, and if anyone’s going to make sweet loving with Maria von Trapp, it’s going to be me.”

Harry looked at the starship captain with doleful eyes. “But she’s so beautiful –”

Outside, a Cyberman and a Dalek were having a bit of a tussle.

“Don’t look at me like that, you pathetic little turd,” Picard barked, his eyes widening. “There are plenty of other wizard people for you to play with, without you trying to interfere with my woman. There’s that freakish girl child who keeps hiding in the corner, for one.”

Angrily, Harry pulled his magic wand from his shirt pocket and pointed it at the bald military man. He shouted some kind of black magic chant. In the corner of the room, Willow wept.

Picard took his hand and, with military precision, slapped Harry about the head. “Look, son, find someone else to wizard or you’ll get a broomstick up your bottom in a minute.”

There was a pause.

Maria looked at Jean-Luc. Harry looked at Maria and raised an eyebrow. Picard shrugged his shoulders and tried on a smile.

Nobody could quite think of what to say.

Crash! The awkward silence was broken by a robotic ow and the sound of rubber against metal. The Dalek / Cyberman tussle had evidently evolved into a fracas, and all hell was breaking loose.

“Oh dear,” Maria siad. “We’re going to have mutant Kaled and Mondasian pieces all over the front lawn, and I’d rather not have the children sit in blood and guts while I sing to them. Jean-Luc, could you please do something about it?”

“Maria, you know the Prime Directive,” Picard said. “Alas, my hands are tied. I am honour-bound and must not get involved.”

Harry looked pointedly at them both and tapped on his magic wand.

By the gardenias, there was the definite sound of laser beams.

Picard rolled his eyes. “Oh, bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath. “Harry, could you … could you please …”

Outside, the sky was raining liquid death as fleets of evil began to drop their unholy payload onto the front garden. Harry continued to look pointedly.

“Fine,” Picard exclaimed. “Harry Potter, if you would kindly remove the aliens from our front yard, I will, in kind, refrain from inserting a broomstick up your arse. But no trying it on with Maria.”

Harry Potter grinned. “No problem,” he said, as he ran out wielding his wand like a tiny wooden sword. Outside, there was implied bloodshed.

“Oh, Jean-Luc,” Maria said, “thank you for alleviating that dreadfully embarrassing situation so deftly. Now, I wonder if there’s something else you can’t help me with.”

Jean-Luc let a crafty smile turn up the corners of his mouth. “And what is that, my dear?”

Maria picked up her guitar from behind one of the children and started to strum. “Well, you see, I’ve written this song in order to teach the children how to sing. I’ve got as far as fa, a long, long way to run, but I can’t for the life of me think what the next line should be.”

Jean-Luc Picard smiled the smile of a Starfleet Captain. “Maria, my love,” he replied, “make it sew.”

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