"Are you ready?" I inquired of Scorpius as the Hogwarts Express slowed and came to a stop at Platform 9 and 3/4. He looked extremely nervous. But when he saw that I was looking at him, he grabbed my hand and gave it a good squeeze, leaning over to kiss the top of my head.
"Yes," he said, although he didn't sound sure.
"It'll be okay," I declared, trying to sound confident. "Mum will stop Dad from killing us."
"Yeah," he said, nodding, trying to be reassured. "I mean, Al's dad was okay with it when he found out that Al and I were mates." He looked down at me, frowning a little. "How different is this?"
It's a lot different.
Around the old Burrow—where I live, and Gran and Grandad Weasley live, and the Potter family lives more often than not, it seems—we adhere to this strategy of motion that Dad affectionately coined "The Weasley Code." And nowhere in its unwritten pages had I ever seen it mentioned that a Weasley was permitted to bring a Malfoy home for the holidays.
But I was a writer of sorts, after all. I'd just have to ink down this "Weasley Code" and include a bit, in the middle or some part that Dad would be sure to skip and then assure me later that he'd read, that said that ROSE WEASLEY IS ALLOWED TO DATE SCORPIUS MALFOY.
And a little bit after that that said, YOU CANNOT KILL ROSE FOR BRINGING HOME THE AFOREMENTIONED BOY, NOR THIS BOY FOR HAVING THE MISFORTUNE OF BEING BORN TO YOUR ARCH NEMISIS.
I'd have to write it entirely in capital letters so that when I went back and showed it to a disbelieving Dad, he'd have to say, "Oh, yeah, I did read that bit, how could I have missed it when it's written out entirely in capitals?"
And Scorpius and I would be fine, and we'd all be completely compliant with the terms of the Code.
So I looked back up at Scorpius and squeezed his hand. I looked out of the window and saw Dad bringing down our trunks, not having noticed and extra one in the mix.
"It's not really that different."
hr /
We were huddled just at the exit, not sure of what to do next. Dad and Mum were laughing with Hugo about something or other-Professor Longbottom was standing a ways off with Molly and her parents. I saw Uncle George and Aunt Angelina with Roxanne and Fred, who were already graduated. They were chatting pleasantly with my Uncle Percy's family, and Trevor, who just liked to talk to people.
As I looked around and noted more faces who all seemed to be linked to the Weasley clan somehow, I had a wild moment of hope. Perhaps I could rush Scorpius into the car without having to introduce him. We were shuttling old Neville and Trevor home with us as well…I could possibly ask Al for his invisibility cloak for the time being.
"Rosie!" Aunt Ginny called from the platform, waving hugely. My moment of hope crashed and burned in a matter of moments as I saw Mum and Dad turn around and look back to me, beaming. Scorpius had been standing behind me, his hand growing clammier in my hand by the seconds; they hadn't seen him yet.
I waved back, trying to look cheery. At the very least I could rely on Scorpius's face being so different from his father's to camouflage him as long as I could. Dad wasn't the sharpest being you'd ever met…I could probably get away with a couple of minutes before he beefed himself up and asked to meet my friend.
I took just one last moment to brace myself, and I suddenly understood that I was looking out at over thirty people, and they'd all be at my home in a matter of hours.
"Good igrief/i."
"Tell me about it," Scorpius muttered from behind me and, working up some nerves of steel, I stepped down out of the train.
"Hi, Rosie!" Mum yelled and ran over, embracing me in a warm hug. Mum has these hugs that just make you feel like nothing in the world can ever hurt you; her reassuring fragrance of cinnamon and new parchment always makes me feel like a little kid again. Of course, when I was a little kid, I wasn't giving much thought to bringing a Malfoy into my family's active circle…but just for a moment, it didn't matter that Scorpius was taboo. I felt the feeling of coming home.
"Hey there, Ginger," Dad said, cutting in between Mum and I. He gave me an affectionate squeeze.
"Hi, Rose!" Hugo shouted, needing to get in on the action. He loped over and wrapped his arms around me tightly, his over-tall frame successfully cutting off my air supply. I coughed into his armpit and he eventually let go.
"Don't you two ever see each other at school?" Dad asked, looking amused despite Hugo's absurdity. But I wasn't thinking about that; I was trying to bring Scorpius into our little family gathering in a discreet enough way so as not to make him immediately conspicuous. It was one thing that his dark blond head was interrupting our mass of brown-and-red, and it was yet another that his dark blue eyes were looking so large that they might pop out of his head and make a racket on the ground below. He was tall, I realised, really tall-about Hugo's height, and Hugo towered over the entire family besides Dad.
"Hullo," Dad said, immediately taking to Scorpius's presence and sticking out his hand. "I'm Ron Weasley." Scorpius took his hand and shook it nicely, gulping. "Though I'm sure you've heard of me," Dad added, that old twinkle back in his eye. I rolled mine.
"Hi there, dear," Mum said in a reassuring way. I immediately knew that she recognized him as a Malfoy. Her tone was extra warm. Scorpius seemed to relax a bit as he took her hand and shook it politely.
"Hi Scorp-"
I cut Hugo off mid-quasi-introduction. "HEY, there's Trevor!" I yelled, pointing over at Uncle Percy's family. Trevor heard me, and nodded from where he stood, looking a little confused. Good old Trevor, though, he was always trying to play along with my little schemes.
"Rose," Mum said, looking amused despite herself. "Don't be silly." Then she leaned over and whispered to me, "I'll take care of this."
Good old Mum. I was absolutely floored with gratitude.
"Ronald, this is Scorpius Malfoy," she said, gesturing to the tall, blond, non-Weasley boy standing immediately opposite him.
"Malfoy?" Dad yelped, a knee-jerk reaction to hearing the name. "Malfoy, really." I watched with growing anxiety as Dad's face passed through a test of sorts: which emotion would stick to it? It was a test I was used to, as it always happened when he had to make the particularly difficult choice between just the one more piece Steak-and-Kidney or starting dessert early.
Scorpius and Dad stood facing each other. Everyone seemed to realise that this was a tense moment, and the platform fell completely silent. Neither would blink; my eyes began to water as I tried to make sure to gauge every second of Dad's internal conflicts.
It took years; decades; forevers-but finally, Dad had made his decision.
He stuck a hand into the space between them and said with a hearty guffaw, for good measure, "Welcome to the family, Kid."
The platform broke into applause. I heard myself let out a giddy, gurgling laugh that sounded more like I was choking to death on happiness than I was actually feeling it. Scorpius was astoundingly handsome as he beamed into Dad's face, the pink blush on his cheeks still wearing off from the tense moments of anticipation. I imagine that during this interval he was considering whether or not it'd be best to make a dash for it while he had the chance.
After the relief, the overwhelming relief, came a tiny trickle of worry. What if Dad didn't understand that I-me, Ginger-was bringing Scorpius home for the holiday? What if he thought that he had come with Albus, or Hugo, for that matter?
I pulled Mum aside as Dad and Scorpius chatted about Draco and Astoria (I saw laughing, that was a good sign!) with a sense of urgency that I'd only felt once before: headed on my way to Ravenclaw tower to find out what was wrong with me. Of course, going to Mum made infinitely more sense in this scenario than it had made to go to a Ravenclaw in my post-traumatic state.
"Does he get it?" I asked, looking nervously at Dad as he seemed to be sharing a friendly conversation with the son of his old enemy. "I mean, I know that you knew that he was taking me to the ball-by the way, they told me you came to visit while I was in my coma?-anyways, Dad never did know, did he? Not even that we were friends." I folded my arms, trying to contain my nerves. I felt like bouncing around.
"I'm not sure," Mum confessed after a moment. "It's like you said-I never told him that Scorpius was taking you to the ball…thought it might be too much of a strain on the old heart, you know," she said, smiling lightly. She didn't seem too concerned, so I tried to relax.
"Does he know that Draco met up with Uncle Harry, like you wrote me?"
"Yes," Mum said, biting her lip. "I think that's actually why he's taken this so well." She looked over at him, regarding him from the well-trained corner of her eye. "He had a hard time accepting the fact that Harry and Draco were on speaking terms, not to mention going-to-tea terms. I think because he spent so long struggling with your Uncle and Scorpius's father's friendship, this can't have been very difficult."
"Yes, that's good and everything as my brains aren't plastered onto the side of the engine," I said dramatically. Mum rolled her eyes. "But what about when he finds out that Scorpius and I are-" I paused, not sure what to call what we had out loud. It was fine and all, saying the "date" word in my head, but it sounded rather childish out loud for some reason. Scorpius and I were friends above all, and the word "dating" didn't seem to cover that for me. So I paused a moment longer as Mum waited with her eyebrows raised. "You know," I whispered, trying to work up the nerve. "iTogether/i."
"I'll take care of it, Rosie," Mum said, hugging me quickly before taking up my hand and dragging me to the car. I looked back to see Hugo trying to butt into Dad and Scorpius's conversation-typical-although it felt bloody strange to see my dad and the boy who was quickly becoming my best friend so engaged in something other than battle.
I walked out to the car park in a sort of haze, thinking this was more like a dream than reality.
hr /
"So, Scorpius," Dad said after he'd asked us for the fiftieth time if we'd buckled ourselves in. Not like he was in charge of this anyways; Mum always drove the car, being the quickest on the uptake with Muggle machinery. "Sorry about the squeeze, as you're not used to it. It seems that magic isn't actually capable of iall/i things." He chuckled, rather pleased with himself.
Mum punched him in the arm and the car swerved dangerously close to the other side of the road. "Leave the poor boy alone, Ron," she said. She then turned in her seat to face Scorpius as she apologised. "Sorry about him, hun, you'll just have to deal with this for a while."
"Hermione!" Dad exclaimed as the car lurched wildly again. Mum turned around with a sweet smile and took easy control of the wheel, steering us back on track.
Scorpius and I exchanged a look. "Sorry," I mouthed. "My parents are a little strange."
"It's okay," he mouthed back. "I think they're lovely."
He grinned goofily down at our hands, which were intertwined and resting on his leg.
"Mrs. Weasley," Trevor piped, but before he could finish his sentence Mum interrupted him.
"iPlease/i, Trevor, call me Hermione," she said, coming dangerously close to turning around again, but stopped as she realised that Dad was trying to be threatening by boring his eyes into the side of her head. She turned back to the road but continued to ramble. "I mean, dear, it's been several years. To me Ron's mum is Mrs. Weasley; it makes me feel terribly old to be called so."
"Oh, sorry," Trevor said, grinning at me. He was sitting on my right side. I rolled my eyes for his sake. "I was just wondering who all will be at the Burrow this holiday."
"Well, with Scorpius here joining us-" Scorpius squeezed my hand. "That makes…"
"THIRTY-ONE!" Dad shouted triumphantly, throwing his balled fists into the air in a show of victory that nearly caused Mum to swerve entirely off of the road.
"Thirty-one," Neville mused out loud from the other side of Trevor.
"Thirty-one," Hugo said, seeming as always to just want to be in on the action.
"That's a lot," I said dumbly. "Will we fit?"
"Don't be silly, Rosie," Dad said. "You'll be sleeping in the outdoor shed to make room again."
"Oh, silly of me to forget, really," I replied, trying very hard not to roll my eyes. Real classy, Dad.
"Scorpius will stay in with Albus then?" Hugo asked. We all turned our heads to him at the very end of the row on the right. If Hugo had had any self-awareness he would have realised that the proper thing to do at this point would be to shrink into the door handle and ask, in a mildly-nervous voice, "iWhat/i?" But he didn't understand the social cues that caused most people to respond the way that most people responded, so he just stared at us with his dumb, big eyes and waited for an answer.
"If that's alright with you, then," Scorpius said to break the silence, nodding to Mum and Dad up in front. Dad nodded back in a manner that made himself look like he'd expected the question all the time and was really quite glad that it had come up. I sighed, refraining from shaking my head. He really was an odd-ball; I was wondering less and less these days, the more time that I looked at Dad as a casual observer, why Hugo was turning out the way that he was. Not that I find anything exceptionally problematic about them: it just seems to me sometimes that people like Dad and Hugo are placed on this earth with the sole intention of providing comic relief for those around them.
Then there's that whole thing about Dad having helped to destroy Voldemort in his day…so I would conclude after a little more thought that Hugo was placed here for that reason alone. Dad nearly escaped his fate as the lowly court-jester of the Weasley Clan by accompanying Mum and Uncle Harry on his adventure-just nearly, but hadn't quite had enough seriousness in him to boot the title.
"So, Neville," Mum began as we all gradually realised that there wasn't any explaining going to happen on Hugo's end, "how have things been with your classes? Any near-death experiences?" I shook my head (with Dad safely turned back to the windscreen) and rested it on Scorpius's shoulder as I anticipated the long, occasionally-lurching trip back into the country. He placed his cheek on my hair and shifted his arm across my shoulders.
I dozed off into a comfortable rest as I heard faintly, in the background, Neville describing a close encounter with a human-eating Venus flytrap.
hr /
"Get it, get it, get it!" Albus screamed, pointing a straight finger dramatically at Scorpius's knapsack. Scorpius had innocently left it lying near the dining room table as soon as Dad had offered to show him the collection of racing brooms he had out in a shed somewhere on the grounds. Albus was currently in the action of sicking his older brother James on Scorpius's things. I waited, peering over the top edge of my book interestedly. I was wondering when initiation would begin.
James flew out of a corridor somewhere and roared loudly, running at full speed towards the knapsack. He looked out of the corner of his eye to my chair in the sitting room as he flew by-he skidded to a halt and backed up, grinning widely.
"Oh, hi, Rosie," he said, nodding and cocking an eyebrow, one hazel eye regarding me fondly.
"Hi, James," I said, but he was already running, skidding again to a halt at the dining room table. Albus grinned evilly and he and James dove at the bag, promptly unzipping all of the compartments and turning it upside down, emptying its contents.
"BURRITO IT, BURRITO!" Albus yelled, and James plunged a hand into the depths of the bag, pulling the material up through the opening, and turning the entire thing inside out. The two of them then shoved all of the things back in, and James used his wand to reseal the zipper. It was a useless lump-no handles or straps to hold it by. Scorpius would have to carry it in both arms up to wherever he was staying-like a giant burrito.
Albus cackled happily, and he and James both placed their fingers over their lips conspiratorially as they glanced at me before sneaking out into the garden. A moment later, Dad walked back into the room with Scorpius, who was smiling-I recognised it as a polite smile, and tried to clue into Dad's story-something about being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night and put to the bottom of the Black Lake.
I decided to put a stop to this. "Hi, Dad! I'm sure that Scorpius would like to take a look around the inside of the Burrow," I announced, putting my book down and leaping up to take Scorpius's arm.
"Oh, good idea, Ginger, I'll just-"
"NO! Mum needs help."
"With what?" He looked confused.
"With-something." I dragged Scorpius to the other end of the table and bent over to pick up his burrito'd bag. "Here," I said, shoving it into his chest. He caught it, looking vaguely amused. "Bye, Dad! See you at dinner," I called over my shoulder as I grabbed Scorpius's arm and dragged him to the corridor that lead to the staircase. We mounted it, stomping noisily. A door opened as we took a turn and nearly knocked us back down-Dominique stepped out of it, looking horrified as she realised that she had almost sent us plummeting to our deaths.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Rosie, I-hang on, you're a Malfoy," she said, squinting at Scorpius out of her bright blue eyes. "Wha's he doing here?" She turned to me, her hands on her hips.
"Dominique, meet Scorpius," I said, placing myself between them. Dominique could be very-er-scary in certain situations, and this seemed like it could turn into one of those quickly. "Scorpius, this is my cousin. She's our age, but goes to the Wizarding Academy of the Arts. She's a painter, that's how she recognised you."
"Hullo, Dominique," he said softly. "But I don't understand-is my dad infamous in painting circles too, then?"
Dominique's face split into an easy smile. Mood swings, these artists have, I swear.
"Merlin, little Scorp-o, your dad's infamous in all circles. But it's not that," she said, stepping closer and gazing around me. "It's your facial construction. You have the same cheekbones, the bridge of your nose is like his, although your jaw is more squared and frankly the rest of you looks softer. By soft," she added, realising that this could be an insult to his manliness, "I mean, of course, you have more curved lines about you. Your lips, for example-their lines are slopes, whereas your father's were more angled. Same for your chin-his is pointy, you know, and yours is less harsh, and dimpled."
"Right," I said, when Dominique fell silent awkwardly, fiddling with the hem of her jumper. "Hope that makes sense to you, Scorpius." I turned and looked at him. He was looking a little dazed, but snapped his face back to me and smiled encouragingly. "See you at dinner, Dom," I said to Dominique, who smiled brightly and waited for us to pass her on the stairs before storming down noisily into the corridor below. We could hear her hollering at little Louis for snapping one of her good pencils even as we neared one of the top floors.
"She's-" Scorpius began, not seeming to know what to say.
"An artist," I finished, shaking my head. "Speaking of which, you're not bad at drawing yourself, Scorpius, I remember your caricature before the big Quidditch match," I mused, panting slightly as we reached the top floor. "It was you on a horse playing polo."
"Yeah," he said modestly, giving the burrito in his arms a little shake. "Is this my knapsack?"
"Oh, of course, you'll be wondering what happened to that," I said, laughing a bit. "Just look at it as your initiation into the Weasley-Potter clan." I nodded, walking up to the second door on the landing. "This is Al's room, you'll be here."
"The Potters don't live here," Scorpius said, and I looked back at him. He was frowning, but his eyes were distant, as if he weren't fully engaged in the task that it was going to be to make it to his cot across what everyone called the 'floor' of Albus's room.
"They do have a home, yes, it's true," I told him, my mind casting about to Godric's Hollow, where the Potters lived in a cozy and inviting manor about twice a year. "But mostly they stay here nowadays."
"Oh," he said, snapping his head back towards me. He grinned. "I see." But he didn't. His eyes were still vacant.
"When we all started school, they started coming to visit for weekends," I explained, beckoning him to come and have a look at the room that laid behind the doorway I was blocking with my robes. "Now they're here most of the time. But we have to store them in the attic. Albus stays here, James stays next door, and where Dominique came out just now is where Lily stays. It was a spare room," I said, shrugging, when Scorpius looked like he was about to ask. He nodded.
"Right, spare room," he said. "Because it looks like this place is full of spare rooms."
"It is," I agreed, smiling and nodding. "Come on, I'll probably have to blast a way for you," I grimaced, looking into the room at last.
Scorpius walked over cautiously. When he reached me where I stood, he looked over my shoulder and into the room-I heard the sharp intake of breath as I had expected. But I hadn't expected him to chuckle and ask me if he was going to be allowed in anytime soon.
"But Scorpius-" I began, turning to him. He grabbed one of my hands and stood there grinning. "Aren't you worried? It looks like all of the diseases ever known to mankind could be stored within those-those-things there, on the ground."
"Not worried," he said casually, shrugging. "I live with Al usually, you remember." He wiggled his eyebrows.
"Oh, right. Yeah…" I had forgotten. But it wasn't like it was that unusual. I was stunned into horrified stupor at the sight of such a mess, I wasn't expected to go and remember things like that through all of the terror, was I, then?
"Here, I'll go in, and you can stay there by the door," he said, leaning in and kissing my cheek before he walked past me and into the room. He made his way easily through the mess, stepping all over it without a care. I felt like gagging as a bit of food unearthed from the clothes and bits of paper and things.
After he'd set his burrito down on the cot, Scorpius made his way back through the wreckage and took my hand as we headed back down the stairs and into the main corridor.
"D'you know, I've never timed the trip down from the attic," I thought aloud as we walked through to the sitting room and then to the dining room, where Gran Weasley was charming the forks and things to arrange themselves around the gigantic table in a semi-organised fashion.
"You're always wondering about that kind of thing," Scorpius said, more to himself than to me I think, because he was looking out the window. I followed his gaze.
Al and James were up on broomsticks, tossing around what looked like a football. Why they insist on using Muggle equipment is beyond me, although I don't think I have a problem with it. But what I mean to say is, the Quaffle is around the same size as a football, so I just…don't get it.
"Go on," I said to him, and his eyes flashed down to mine for a moment before his face split into a smile.
"You sure?" he asked, gazing up at the cutlery weaving in and out in a complicated pattern over the table. "You think your Gran could use-"
"Nah, I'll help her," I said, giving him a little push towards the door. "They'll love to play with you anyways."
"I don't know," Scoprius said, looking out the window again. "They did turn my knapsack inside out."
"It was a ilove/i burrito," I said, giving him a final push. He grinned back at me over his shoulder and walked out the door to the grounds, giving a wave to the boys up in the air. I watched him for a while; Dad Apparated to the broom cupboard and back with a broom for Scorpius, and Scorpius took it after what looked like a whole lot of unnecessary 'thank yous' and mounted it easily, soaring into the sky. James tossed him the football, which he promptly dropped. I thought that was odd-as a Chaser, you'd think Scorpius wouldn't have too much trouble actually catching the ball. I watched him zoom to the ground to retrieve it, and James and Albus followed. They had a little pow-wow, and it looked like Scorpius understood something based on the brothers' explanation of whatever it was, because he kept nodding a lot. Then they mounted and flew up to the sky again, tossing the ball more slowly. Scorpius dropped it a few more times-I was so confused-but after that he seemed to get the hang of it. Their speed quickened until the ball had become a distant blur of white and black through the darkening sky.
"Help her, my itush/i," a warm and crackling voice said behind me. I whipped around to see Gran Weasley standing in the doorway of the kitchen, brandishing a spoon dripping with something in my direction.
"Gran!" I exclaimed, clapping my hands over my ears. "You can't just walking around saying words like itush/i around me, you know how uncomfortable it is!"
She grinned mischievously and retreated to the kitchen, humming to herself, pleased.
"Awkward Gran," I said under my breath.
"I heard that!" she shrieked from the stove, and I figured that I would regret it if I didn't head in there soon and give her a hand.
After all these years, I even kind of ilike/i peeling potatoes.
hr /
We were seated at the table, all of us. I'd tell you the lineup but you'd just get nervous trying to picture us all in the dining room. And you know what, we had to, some of us, share chairs. Dominique and Louis were squished into a single chair, Victoire and Aunt Fleur, Roxanne and Fred, Uncle Percy and Molly—they were all sharing. There's the whole magic thing, where actually they didn't feel like they were sharing—and I knew that personally because I was sharing with Hugo, who already had his mouth full.
"Hugo," I hissed, "you could wait till Dad took a drink."
That was our tradition. Mum and Gran and I had started it: I'd have to write it down in the Weasley Code. Dad didn't understand why we started it, but it had been my idea: if something was poisoned, Dad would be the first to suffer. It sounds evil, yes, but he's prattish, and he's already survived several attempted assassinations. One time, a wizard who had bought U-NO-POO without realising what it would actually ido/i was in pain for days, and sent Dad a poisoned bottle of mead. You'd think, wouldn't you, that because that was the way he was poisoned the very first time, Dad would drag out the stockpile of bezoars from the kitchen cabinet before drinking anything anyone sent him by post, but no, he popped the stopped and downed almost half of the amber liquid before realising that he couldn't actually breathe. Nan came in and found him, frothing at the mouth, writhing on the floor. Panicked, she barely tossed a bezoar down his mouth in time. And you know what Dad did when he started breathing again? He got up, thanked Nan, and asked if she had any magical strainers.
"Sorry," Hugo said. I was afraid to ask what was in his mouth. I thought it might have been a bit of his napkin.
Dad raised his glass in a toast. Damn. If the cider was poisoned, we'd all die. Every one of us. Draco would kill the survivors because we killed his only son. I would lose Scorpius, Dominique would be sad that the last words she said to her brother were "YOU FARTBUBBLE," Uncle Harry would go out looking like—well, like that—Molly's last act would have been to slap Albus on the back of the head—
"To the Weasleys, Potters, Longbottoms, Pratts, Lupins, and Malfoys present—Happy Christmas, and please don't burp too loudly at the table."
Scorpius beside me looked nervous as he drank from his glass. I waited until someone else had survived before I took a drink, and then dug into my food, the rest of the table shimmering out of existence as the nirvana of Nan's cooking pervaded my senses.