Summary: The signal reception is not good and the language is rather gibberish even with their spells; Scorpius should have known that this trip will not be going smoothly.
A/N: No beta, so if you spot mistakes, please tell me and I'll fix it as soon as possible. Anyway, enjoy!
Disclaimer: "Harry Potter" is the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. This work of fiction/art was created entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.
1: Cupboard and Coffee
Scorpius knocks the door three times and listens. There is some yelling upstairs, the sound of a Quidditch commentator from somewhere on the left side of the house, and then footsteps that get louder before the lock clicks and the door swings open to the inside.
He steps back to avoid the net door being swung to the outside, and is met by the frazzled face of one Mrs. Weasley. "Oh, Scorpius." Hermione smiles - tries to, at least - and pushes the door a bit wider, "Come in, please."
He nods once. "Good evening, Mrs. Weasley." He closes the door behind him, since she has already taken his coat to hang it. A glance to the family room confirms that both Hugo and Mr. Weasley are sitting in front of the television, a replay of a Quidditch game yesterday. He knows that his greeting will mostly go unheard, so instead he asks Mrs. Weasley, "Is Rose upstairs?"
She looks a bit exasperated but still answers his question. "Yes, she is, and she's been in there for nearly two hours packing and unpacking her bag. I honestly don't know what she's trying to bring."
Scorpius smiles a bit. It is Rose after all, and packing isn't really her biggest forte. "May I?"
Hermione waves her hand, a gesture of allowance he's come to be familiar with over the years. "Go on, maybe you can drill some sense to her head. I'll be downstairs if you ever need anything." With that, she turns back and heads to the kitchen.
Left on his own, he starts up the stairs, where he can only imagine what Rose is doing to her own cupboard. Once he arrives in front of her room, he knocks, just for the sake of formality, because Rose has several moments where she ignores the World around her - studying, packing, and several TV shows he's watched.
Forced to watch, to be honest, but it is Rose and that is a reason in itself.
He turns the doorknob, enters and closes it - and he sees one frustrated Weasley standing in the middle of a room that... seems to has had a herd of Hippogriffs trampling over it. The only clean thing he is able to see is Rose's vanity, probably because there is a mirror attached to it and she does not want it to topple and shatter because then she will need a Reparo.
Her bag is wide open on the middle of her bed, and all sorts of clothes are literally everywhere: on the bed, on the floor, on the chair and on the cupboard. He thinks there might be some under her bed too.
...Hm. Now that he has time to observe the mess, her bookshelf is clothes-free too.
Now, Rose is not that keen on fashion, so that is not the reason for the current clothes-storm. If they were only going to France, or Spain, or Greece, then he is sure that she would not need more than 30 minutes to pack.
But they are going a bit further this time; colder and higher and also one that not many people think as a place to visit.
He has finished his own bag, of course, and he came to the Weasleys' home because he knows Rose. Seven years of Hogwarts and a few years of interconnected studies in college have made them close, to the point that they can finish each others' sentence and throw snarks like ordinary words.
Scorpius picks up a blue shirt that has been hanging on the back of her chair, and sits down.
Amazingly enough, with the amount of discarded clothes around the room, her cupboard still looks full - or maybe because Mrs. Weasley has charmed her closet with an Extension Charm permanently. Merlin knows Rose can keep every sort of stuff she's found.
He measures the clothes on the bed critically, takes out his wand and folds some that he deems necessary before levitating them to her bag. Rose is still glaring on her cupboard, hand on hips, the other supporting herself on the open left drawer. He gives a quick glance to her bedside digital clock, and sighs. "I'm going to go make coffee."
Rose jumps a little, her supporting hand slipping before she regains her balance and whirls around to face him. "Scorp!"
It's something quarter surprise, quarter annoyance and half greeting, so he pauses beside her to locate the source of her problem. There is nothing that is glaringly out of place, mainly because he is used to her definition of categorising: Used slash Rarely in Use, Still in Use, Will Probably be Used, Do Not Know.
This time, however, she seems genuinely confused. And in a tested-and-true Rose Weasley fashion, confusion equals frustrations which results in mostly physical action. Nothing that ever breaks too badly, though, because Reparo can only do so much.
Still, he chuckles. "I'm going to make coffee," he repeats, "And when I come back, I expect you to have found whatever it is you're looking for."
Rose has probably ignored the part after coffee, because she only mumbles something incoherent and faces her cupboard back.
He closes the door quietly, grabs two cups from the tray beside the coffee-maker and waits for the Muggle device to operate. Being friends with a Weasley has its own perks - he has long convinced his father that a Muggle coffee-maker is essential in the morning, because all they need are coffee beans and water. Electricity doesn't matter because they can charm it to work without any current, and the fact that it is quite handy (as long as it is kept cleaned up, which he learned the hard way) his father has brought it to his office. Said something about the coffee-cart which he couldn't fathom.
Luckily enough the Weasley household has two, one for each floor, even though the one he is using is rather small - reserved mostly for Rose when she is being nocturnal, and him, on the occasion that he visits his friend (quite often, he admits). Her need for sugar in her drink does not help - a sugar-plus-caffeine high Rose Weasley has enough energy to do the NEWTs four days without a break.
Scorpius brings the two cups back to her room, placing hers on the vanity. He takes a sip, puts his down, and rejoins her in front of the cupboard.
He is not even beside her yet when she suddenly jumps and clutches the topmost part of her cupboard.
"Ha!" She exclaims, "Found you, little bugger!"
One of her hand clutching the cupboard, the other one fumbling for something deep on the back with both her feet not firmly on the drawers. Scorpius sighs, shaking his head. "Rose," he starts, "Get down. Grab a chair or something."
No sooner than the stop of his sentence, her grip slips and she tumbles backward, dragging a huge bunch of plastic down.
It is an instinct to him, to catch moving things, after years of being the Ravenclaw Seeker, though he prefers small things rather than big ones. Sort of Physics law or something, he vaguely recalls, in a random documentary when Rose left him alone with the telly. That the speed and size affects the energy it requires.
...He is not even a scientific person, Merlin. Maybe all those programmes are starting to mess with his thoughts.
Scorpius wheezes when he catches Rose, the force knocking them both to the floor. He nearly clips his chin with Rose's head, and moves just in time before the plastic bag drops on her stomach, doubling its weight to him. Since he hasn't had a chance to inhale some air after his initial wheeze, it knocks the remaining air in his lungs out, and Rose's hair near his nose makes him want to sneeze. It is an altogether literally breathtaking experience, and he is left to gulp down air from his mouth.
Both his hands are still wrapped around her, and once she snaps out of it, she pries his limbs away and gets off of him. "Merlin, Scorp, you okay? Talk to me, c'mon."
He coughs once, twice, the momentary lack of air dizzying his head. Then his eyes focus back on Rose's worried face, and he attempts to smile despite the pain on his backside. He accepts her hand offer to sit up, and winces when his hips protest. She frowns, and he thinks that a small bruise might be forming right now. "Why," he begins, but rephrases his question shorter because he is still a bit out of breath, "There is a chair, Rose."
"Err." She looks a bit sheepish. "Yes. I forgot."
The blond scoots back until his back hits her bed, and laughs rather breezily. "Yes, no, I forgot. You probably didn't even notice I've entered back."
An instant, "No!" which is followed by a mutter of, "I think I noticed, at least."
His head considerably clearer, this time Scorpius laughs. "It's fine, Rose. Probably just a small bruise anyway."
Rose grins a little, and pushes herself off the floor. "Yeah, well, thanks, Scorp. Owe you one there."
He follows suit and replies nonchalantly, "Next two meals on you and consider it done."
She looks affronted, pauses and eyes him before the usual glint shows up in her eyes, but he cuts her off. "No freebies and no meals by your mother either."
The brunette merely grins and shrugs, throwing the plastic bundle on her bed and proceeding to open it.
Her door swings open, Mrs. Weasley's head poking in. "Are you two okay? I heard a loud thump downstairs..." She trails off, eyeing the two. Her eyes land on the part of the young Malfoy's crumpled shirt on his stomach, and his nonchalant dusting of his trousers.
"Everything's fine, Mum, I was just looking for my winter clothing," Rose quips from the bed. Scorpius nods, and joins her in folding her clothes.
"And fell on Scorpius?" She asks with a small smile.
Rose falters slightly in her folding but Scorpius keeps a straight face as he stacks her clothes. Her mother's statement nearly makes him choke, and he manages to restraint it just barely. Any reaction will be seen as admitting said thing did happen, and he did not need meddlings like that in his relationship... friendship with Rose.
Their relationship relationship, as Albus has put it, is one they always skirt around. People around them seem to have this delusional fog clouding their mind that they are together (...sometimes in his drunken haze, twice a year at most, he admits it too, to himself, right before he passes out). They work together splendidly, as the Professors of both Hogwarts and their college can attest to; they can rile each other up the most, which usually ends up with him lashing out verbally and her physically.
He to her but she to her surroundings, strangely enough.
But they are not an item, Merlin. She has had boyfriends (...three, in the span of the last four years) and he has had girlfriends (two, because he prefers the quiet).
(Sometimes he wishes...)
But he values their friendship more, and is unwilling to jeopardise it.
So when Rose indignantly tries to get her mother out, Scorpius keeps on doing his folding and says nothing. She returns and clears her throat, shaking her head. "Sorry. You know what Mum's like."
"S'okay, Rose. At least it's not your father going up." He shrugs.
She cringes, a small shudder tearing through her body. "I suppose... You're just lucky he's probably too absorbed watching the telly."
He acknowledges her with a short "Hm." and resumes the final few shirts. "Are you done with your other clothes?"
Rose pauses, looks at him oddly, before slapping her forehead and dashing back to the bottom drawer.
Scorpius merely grins at her back.
"What time are we supposed to meet Al, by the way?" She asks.
"About 10, 10.30 at most. The paperworks will need an hour on its own," he replies, finishing his job and placing the last of her shirts into her bag. He pushes the content around a bit more so she can fit her other stuff before having to put an Extension Charm.
She makes a quick detour to gulp her now lukewarm coffee. "Done?"
"Yeah. Put them in and I'll take the dirty cups out." He takes his forgotten drink from the vanity along with hers and walks toward the door. "Don't take too long, Rose."
She gestures him away, pulling out her wand and mutters an Extension Charm.
So much for organising them, he thinks.
Scorpius has long ago mastered the art of stacking things that two cups are not a problem to bring in one hand, allowing him the use of his other free hand. This way, he is able to avoid the use of his foot to close Rose's door, because the poor thing is usually kicked shut when its owner is in a haste. He walks down the stairs and heads to the kitchen sink to place the dirty cups.
Mrs. Weasley is stirring something on the stove, the plates are already outside the cabinet but not yet arranged on the table. There are five, which he is used to see every time he goes to the Weasleys' home around six. He had insisted that he didn't want to impose and that the house-elves in the Manor (when he went home to his parents) had had the dinner served, or that he could always cook at his own apartment (this is mostly it), but Mrs. Weasley had been undeterred until he sat down and eat.
Not that he minds, really, because her cooking has quite improved compared to his first visit here. No wonder Rose has a stomach of steel.
Feeling a bit rude if he just slips out to go up again, he offers to arrange the plates on the table, of which Mrs. Weasley is happy to allow him. The dinner table is round, so he arranges them according to the shape.
Scorpius excuses himself then, going up to retrieve Rose as she finishes her cooking and tells Mr. Weasley and Hugo to pause what they are watching and eat first.
A chorus of "Just a minute!" comes from the two males.
Rose's bag is sitting near the foot of her bed when he re-enters, while said person is busy putting papers to her folder. Her backpack lies on the chair, several papers poking out of the pockets. He glances on his watch, a gift from her after they finished Hogwarts, because, quoted, "You'll just forget the time and eventually dozes off in your class."
It is now 7 PM, and they are lucky they don't have to pick Albus up.
By the time she finally finishes her papers (only a few minutes or so), he is ready with her duffel bag slung on one shoulder. She flashes him a thank-you grin and exits first, leaving him to turn off the lights after checking that there are no necessary papers left on her table. He follows her downstairs a few steps behind.
The rest of her family are already on the table, waiting for them to take their respective seats. Scorpius places her bag near his coat and proceeds to sit down beside Rose.
Dinner with the Weasleys will never be as quiet as it is in the Manor, but then again the number of people around the table is quite different. Fortunately their table is similar to those he has seen in many Chinese restaurants: with a rotating glass, to allow each people the same chance of taking the food.
But he usually waits until the others have taken their share before filling his plate, because he does so with his parents. Mrs. Weasley cooks more than enough whenever he visits, so he is not worried that their portion is lessened. If anything, he does not eat all that much, resulting in a half more food than her usual, or so Rose said.
Neither complains.
After they all finish Rose brings the plates to the sink, and has begun to turn on the tap before Mrs. Weasley tells her to stop. "Leave the dishes, Rose. I'll do them just this once, you just go and don't forget to pick Albus up in Harry's house."
At that statement, she brightens up considerably. It's not that she does not want to do the dishes, it's just that she does not like the splashes that wet her clothes. "Thanks Mum!" She hugs her briefly, and moves to her father. "I'll be going now, Dad."
"You sure there's nothing you left behind?" He asks. "Papers? Jacket and coats?"
"Nope. Checked them twice." She walks to where he is standing, beside the door, and slings her backpack. "I'll be back in a month then!"
She steps outside, and he bids her family goodbye. "Good night, Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley. Hugo."
He has already turned before Mr. Weasley calls him. "Malfoy."
Scorpius pauses. "Yes, sir?"
Her parents stare at him, with Hugo giving him small grins from behind the sofa. "You take care of her, yeah? It's not an easy place you're visiting this time, so make sure she doesn't do anything reckless."
Yes, he knows that this time it's not going to be an easy task. Going somewhere cold and high has never been easy. But what unnerves him more is the fact that they let their daughter go without much fussing like before, and that there are no threatening looks from her father. Even Mrs. Weasley is looking at him more oddly than what he is familiar with. A grinning Hugo does not help matters. His finger twitches, which for him is an instinct that says that there is something a bit off.
Nevertheless he does nothing but answering her parents, "I will, Mr. Weasley. No worries there." He has never been that close to the man, but compared to his first visit, their interaction has softened considerably. Sometimes he still catches a quick dark look directed to him, but it's gone in a flash.
Making sure that they have nothing more to say, he carries Rose's bag outside, where she is waiting by sitting on the fence. "Done?"
His answer is a nod.
"That reminds me - are we going to the Manor to get your bags?"
"No, I left it in my father's office earlier. Said that I should get it there after picking you up." He rights the strap on his right shoulder, and smirks at her - his first of the night. "Ready?"
"For the Himalayas? As ready as I'll ever be, Malfoy."
Then they Apparate to the Potters' house with a pop.
(Note: Preview style is borrowed from Top Gear openings, because I honestly love those three guys.)
Today: Albus buys a book, Rose falls asleep and Scorpius is given a hat.