"More tart, Scorp?"
He looked across the table at her, their eyes locking.
"No, thanks," he muttered.
She held his gaze for a moment longer, and once again, he felt the strange, pulsing electricity between them. She blushed, and looked away, offering the dessert to James instead.
Looking back, it seemed as though he could always remember the feeling, the static in their touch, the jolt every time their eyes met. But this was the first time—no, the second—that he was almost positive that she felt it too.
The first time had been several weeks before, the afternoon of the snowball fight, when she had rushed at him in such excitement that they had beaten Al's team that she toppled the both of them over into a snow bank. But instead of getting up right away, she had lain there, on top of him, staring at him with those big, blue eyes, breathing shallowly, mouth just inches from his and moving infinitesimally closer every second… and then, of couse, Al had snuck up behind them and pushed their heads both down into the snow drift, effectively ruining the moment, and the battle had started anew. But there had been something there, in that one, perfect moment, something that she had felt too. He was sure of it.
He snuck a glance at her over his plate of half-eaten treacle tart. She was looking at him. They both hastily looked away.
"We're just so thrilled to have you with us at Christmas this year, Scorpius!" Mrs. Weasley crooned. "It's a shame that your parents had to be in Bulgaria for the holiday, but we're thrilled that you could join us anyway. More cake?"
"No, thank you," Scorpius said, averting his attention to her, "And thank you for having me. I don't know where else I would have gone."
"Don't mention it, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, "After all, you're practically family by now!" She shot him a very significant glance, and he felt his face grow hot. "And we love having all our family for Christmas." She finished casually.
Indeed, all of the many generations of Weasleys had gathered, and Scorpius was frankly surprised that the Burrow hadn't burst at the seams yet, especially considering that there were more of them each year.
There were Bill and Fleur, and even Gabrielle and her French husband, who seemed to talk to no one but her, crooning over their new Granddaughter, Cecelia, while Teddy and Victoire looked on proudly. There was Charlie, in deep conversation with Louis about Romania while Dominique filed her nails and chatted with her Aunt Audrey. George and Angelina were having a healthy debate with Ginny and Hugo about proper Quidditch maneuvers, while Fred and Roxanne played exploding snap in the next room with Albus and Lily, who was leaning up against Avery's legs. Hermione seemed to have been trapped in a conversation with Percy about the Ministry and was shooting accusatory looks at Ron, who pretended not to notice them while he shoveled dessert into his mouth. James was talking with his father, holding tightly to Kate's hand, on which shimmered a diamond ring, which Mrs. Weasley exclaimed over whenever she got the chance. And Rose, of course, across the table, avoiding his gaze.
The small room was positively packed.
The dishes on the table began to stack themselves, including Ron's, still holding its half eaten cake, and he made a sound of protest. Everybody else, though, seemed to take this as a cue to move into the sitting room for presents.
Scorpius had been present for the ritual giving of the Weasley jumpers for several years now, and it was quite the procedure. Mrs. Weasley started with her husband, and then Bill and Fleur, Charlie, George and Angelina, Ron and Hermione, and Harry and Ginny, and then distributed jumpers to her grandchildren, oldest first. Scorpius supposed that Cecelia would come last, being part of a new generation.
Albus, sitting beside him, sighed heavily. "This always takes forever," he muttered.
Harry shot him a warning look across the room, as if he had heard his son, and Albus bowed his head apologetically. "But it's really important to Grandma," he recited dutifully.
Scorpius grinned and pretended to be very invested in Fleur, exclaiming over her sweater in a shade of lurid pink. Molly beamed at her, but as soon as she turned around to get Charlie's, Fleur pulled a face at her husband and Bill stifled a laugh.
"Hey," James said, reentering the room with two fresh butterbeers, handing one to Kate, and squeezing into the only floor space left, "How's seventh year treating you?"
"Eh," Scorpius said noncommittally, "It's a lot of work."
"Yeah," said James reminiscently, "The good old days. I don't miss them at all. And thank Merlin Uncle George made me a partner in his shops, I make more than most of those prats who started at the ministry."
Kate sighed. "You definitely make more than me."
"That doesn't matter," James said affectionately, taking her hand.
"Congratulations, by the way," Scorpius said, "I'm really happy for the both of you."
"Thanks," Kate beamed. "I worry that it's a bit soon, but…"
"When you're sure, why wait?" James finished. "We're both doing well for ourselves, so that's no issue."
"You're lucky," said Scorpius, "living the good life while I have to deal with those idiots they call prefects."
Kate smirked. "See? You lot are a load of work."
"Yeah," Scorpius sighed, "Sorry, by the way, for thinking that… well, for not being more understanding with you."
"No problem," she said, "But what exactly were you thinking?"
Mrs. Weasley came bustling over. "Here's your jumper, James dear. And one for you, Kate!" Kate took it, looking surprised and forgetting all about Scorpius, for which he was grateful.
Mrs. Weasley handed a package to Rose, and then bustled across the room, carrying Albus'.
"Thanks, Grandma," he said weakly, taking it.
"And here, Scorpius, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, forcing a paper wrapped parcel into his arms. Scorpius was stunned. Never before had he received a Weasley jumper, nor had he expected to.
"Mrs. Weasley," he stammered, "You didn't have to, I mean, you—"
"Never mind that, dear," she said affectionately, "Like I said, you're practically family!"
"Thanks," he stammered, as she rushed off to fetch Hugo and Lily's jumpers.
Albus elbowed him and grinned, and Rose was beaming at him from the next couch over, holding her white jumper, imprinted with a capital 'R.'
Albus was unwrapping his own forest green jumper, shaking his head at the letter 'A' on the front.
"As if I can't remember my name," he muttered. "Or, maybe I'll get really confused and go around thinking I'm Aunt Angelina. Well, go on, Scorp, open yours!"
Scorpius shook open his paper slowly, wanting to savor the moment. The jumper was a deep, crimson red. He unfolded it, expecting to see an 'S' knitted into the front, but instead, it was a large golden lion, its mouth open, midroar.
"Harry told me about your Patronus," Mrs. Weasley said, catching his eye, "I hope it's not too much."
"No, it's perfect!" Scorpius exclaimed, "I love it!"
"Well," Ron said ruefully, cradling his own magenta jumper, "Nobody will ever say you don't belong in Gryffindor House, not with a jumper like that."
"You don't really like it?" Albus asked, appalled.
"Yeah, I do," Scorpius answered. It seemed as if he was unable to stop grinning broadly. "It's absolutely perfect."
