Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, I would ban all statistics classes. Every day. For the rest of my life. And the world would be a better place.
I'm sooooo sorry this took so freaking long to update. Everything that could go wrong, has been going wrong, including a trip to the emergency room, but not for me, but for one of my roommates, the one that I don't like all that much, but I went with her because she didn't have any one else and it was two in the morning. I got back at seven thirty in the morning, just in time for my eight o'clock class which is statistics. I had 100 chance of sleeping through it.
But, I'm back, finally and I'm sorry for the wait. So this is a long chapter, and a long awaited one. This is a family dinner one! Well, later on. So read, enjoy, and review!
Special thanks to:
Guinevere: I like the slow building relationships too, and they're the only ones I can write. Glad you like the story.
Seranade: Thank you very much. I'm happy that you find the Draco/Ginny not too slow.
Julie: I honestly have no clue how many more chapters. I have the whole thing mapped out, but I don't know numberwise. Sorry about the long update. I swear it will never be this long again.
Ladybug0321: I have been getting a lot of comments on the slow building relationship, and I am glad that you like it as well. Thank you very much.
Padfootedmoony: Thank you, I'm glad you like.
Serilia: Those are some of my favorite spots as well. I'm glad you liked it, and thanks for taking the time to read my story.
DCoD: Hey look, a family dinner two chapters early! I decided it was about time to have one, I hope you enjoy it, and sorry about the wait.
Alexandria J. Malfoy: I'm glad you found it funny, and my roommates give me weird looks when I laugh at my computer as well. Here's some more.
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Thursday. Thursdays were cruel. They were the days you made plans for the weekend, but you still knew that you had a whole 'nother eight hours of work the next day before freedom. Or, in Draco's case, a whole 'nother twelve hours of work and maybe another six on Saturday, but what could he say, he was a workaholic.
In truth, this Thursday was not as bad as it could have been. In fact, as far as Thursdays are concerned, it was a rather good day. It was the week after the end of the depression and although the economy was still far below what any prosperous country should have been, it was steadily creeping up, and stability was a good thing.
Cash and funds were still hard to come by. Businesses were doing well, but it was the non-profit organizations Draco was worried about. He was worried about the orphanages and the charity houses which were still close to closing. Truth be told, he could just take out his checkbook and write a nice seven digit number and send it to them, but that would be defeating the purpose. He was trying to get this economy to the point where it could sustain itself and not rely on large influxes of cash from a certain rich man.
Right now he was telling that to Padma Patil who was a field reporter. She had been stationed all around the world, but she had come back to work in England when her sister had married and moved to Russia a few months ago. Since their mother was ill, Padma had come back and was making quite a name for herself as a star reporter.
Draco, as a rule, did not like reporters. Padma was an exception. She had interviewed him several times while he was in America and they had struck up an easy friendship as both of them had left England for a chance to find themselves after the war.
"And that's about it," he finished.
"Can't keep relying on one man," she muttered as she wrote, then looked up once she was done. "Alright, thank you very much for your time Draco."
"Glad to be of service," he said.
The door opened up and Harry stormed in.
"Another reporter!" he demanded at Draco. "Another damn reporter? I'm sick of this; I refuse to do any more interviews. That's final!"
"Hello, Potter," said Draco. "Bad day?"
"Damn straight," said Harry. "I can't deal with any more interviews right now!"
"Who said anything about an interview?" asked Draco.
"You called me in for a meeting. Shelia said there was a reporter in your office."
"Not for you, she was interviewing me. I just wanted a report to see how the team was doing," said Draco.
"Oh," said Harry, blushing. He turned to the reporter. "I'm sor-Padma? Is that you?"
"Hello, Harry," said the dark haired reporter. "I'm surprised you remember me."
"You were in the DA," said Harry. "Of course I remember. I hear Parvati got married and moved to Russia."
"Yes," said Padma. "It was a rather quick engagement, so I came back to take care of mother."
"So you're a reporter now?"
"Yes. I was stationed abroad for the past few years."
"Well, you're looking well," said Harry.
"And yourself," said Padma. "I hear you're a Seeker now for the Chudley Canons. How is that working out?"
"Fine," said Harry.
"Really," said Padma. "Sounded to me like you were sick of the publicity."
"His girlfriend dumped him because of the media," Draco supplied.
Harry glared at him.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Padma.
"It's alright," said Harry. "So, did you need to talk to me Draco, or what?"
"Yeah," said Draco. "Hold on a minute." He rummaged around on his desk looking for the sheet he needed underneath the piles of papers and the loose pages strewn everywhere, covering the surface. In truth the paper he needed was in his third drawer, right on top, but he was buying time until the phone rang.
"It was nice seeing you," he heard Padma say.
"It was nice seeing you too," said Harry.
Draco glanced at his watch, one-ten. Any minute now.
"I suppose I should go and let you and Draco talk," said Padma.
No, Draco thought. Don't go yet. The phone rang; he grabbed it.
"Malfoy," he said. "Oh, hello Minister. No, this is a perfect time. Just hold on a minute, would you? Thanks." Draco covered the mouthpiece with his hand and looked up at the two. "I have to take this," he whispered to Harry so that the receiver didn't pick up his voice. "Come back in an hour, would you?"
"What should I do?" asked Harry.
"I don't know. Go get something to eat, better yet, take Padma to lunch, I kept her late. Charge it to the company."
"Wait, what?" asked Harry.
"Go, shoo," said Draco, waving at them to leave. They hurried out of his office, closing the door softly behind them. He watched them through the window, seeing Harry rub the back of his neck and say something to Padma. She laughed, her hand twirling a strand of dark hair around her finger. He smiled and there was a faint red tinge to his cheeks. Yes, they were perfect for each other. He turned back to the phone. Even if he had planned for the Minister to call to get Harry and Padma together, that did not mean the conversation was unnecessary.
"You were saying Minister?" he asked.
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Tuesdays were alright, he supposed. It was a definite work day, though. Mondays he tended to only review the budget and finances for his companies abroad, for his companies in England, for the companies he had secretly invested in, and the economy of England herself. Although a long and tedious task, it was nothing to difficult. Tuesdays, however, were the days where he had meetings and had to look over papers from any one of the companies he invested in and had to either sign them, throw them out, or go to more meetings so he would know whether to sign them or throw them out. He also had to make a few executive decisions and go to conferences and what not.
He was used to working until nine on Tuesdays, but here he was at ten to seven, starting to pack up. There was a family dinner today at the Burrow and he was looking forward to it, something that he would not admit to anyone, not even himself. He didn't know why the thought of enjoying time with the group bugged him; he supposed it had to deal with his whole 'I don't need anyone' mentality.
Ginny opened the door; she had run home and changed out of her skirt and blouse into a pair of jeans and a mauve long sleeved shirt that was snug on her petite frame.
"Are you ready yet?" she asked, sounding rather exasperated.
"I'm picking things up right now," he said, shoving his laptop into his carrying case along with a few folders. He would have to look a few things over after dinner when he got home.
His cell phone rang and he grabbed it. Ginny gave a groan of impatience and rolled her eyes.
"Malfoy," said Draco into the phone, and then returning to the task of stuffing folders into his case, which was a whole lot harder with only one hand. "Oh, Bonjour, Henri."
Ginny rolled her eyes again and took the case and the folders from him and tucked them neatly in next to his computer.
"And those ones," Draco mouthed to Ginny, pointing at a small stack on his desk. She put them away then zipped up the case.
"Ready yet?" she asked.
"One moment, Henri," said Draco. He covered the mouthpiece with his hand. "I need to change now," he said. "Do you mind leaving?"
"If you're not ready in five minutes I'm leaving without you," she warned, shutting the blinds to the windows and then leaving the room. Draco uncovered the phone and struck up the conversation again, while grabbing the bag he had packed that morning and struggling to change with one hand occupied. Luckily Henri hung up a few seconds later so Draco could dress in the khakis, t-shirt, and black knit sweater without too much trouble. His desk phone rang just as he pulled the sweater over his head and he considered leaving it, but professionalism took over and he picked it up.
"Malfoy," he said, shoving his feet into his shoes without untying the laces.
Ginny barged in, took the phone from his hand, and hung up.
"No more phone calls," she said.
"Fine," he agreed, pocketing his cell phone and grabbing his laptop case. "I'm ready."
"Those are your casual clothes?" she asked, eyeing his wardrobe.
"As casual as it gets, yes," he said rather testily. "Remember, before I met you lot the only clothes I needed were business suits and dress robes."
"And before you met us you had absolutely no fun at all," said Ginny, grabbing the Floo powder from the box by his own private fireplace and chucking some in.
"Completely untrue," said Draco.
"Liar," said Ginny. "The Burrow," she commanded and stepped in the flames. Draco smiled and repeated her call, then stepped in and was whisked away.
He was spewed out into a brightly lit hall and before he had time to orient himself he was crushed into a huge bear hug by Fred Weasley.
"Draco! There you are old chum!" said the red-head.
"Fred, what are you doing?" he asked, trying to shove the grinning man off.
"Giving you a hug."
"Get off. I don't do hugs," said Draco.
Fred let go and turned to his twin. "See, he's a Malfoy. They don't do hugs," he said. "You owe me five galleons."
Draco blinked, his mind trying to deal with arriving in an entirely new location, the various loud noises that were coming from another room, the bright lights, the blend of smells that must be dinner cooking, and the shock of just being hugged, all at once. Ginny took advantage of his momentary mind-overload by taking the laptop from unresponsive fingers and putting it in the closet for safe keeping.
A tiny blur raced in between the two Weasley twins and impacted his leg. The jolt knocked him out of his confusion and he looked down to see Dragon grinning up at him.
"Hello, Dragon," he said, picking the boy up. Dragon grinned happily and threw his tiny arms around his neck. Draco couldn't help but give a small smile and returned the embrace.
"That," said George, "was a hug. You owe me five galleons."
"He's carrying him," protested Fred. "It doesn't count."
"Does too," said George.
"Does not," said Fred.
"This way," said Ginny, brushing past him and the arguing twins. He followed her past the kitchen where he could see Mrs. Weasley, Fleur, and Penny cooking. They entered the living room where it seemed the room would burst from all of the people inside it. Hermione and Pansy were on the couch holding their infants while Faye sat on the floor right by it braiding Helena's hair. Beside the blonde girl was Alette, who's hair was already in braids. Melody and Lida were there as well; it looked as if they were having a tea party. Gabriella, Michael, and Gavin were playing a board game while the usually sullen Emeric sat in a corner of the room, a book in his lap as he frowned at everyone in general. Bill, Blaise, and Percy were playing cards and having a fiery debate on exactly who was going to make it to the World Cup. Ron and Harry sat at a chess board, Harry losing, and Sev was sitting nearby with Zak at their own chess board. Zak actually seemed to understand the rules of the game.
"There's Dragon," said Pansy. "Glad you made it Draco."
Draco nodded and set the boy down. The boy looked up at him reproachfully and Draco sighed, but picked the boy back up and took an empty chair in between Harry and Ron and Sev and Zak.
"No," said Severus to the curly haired boy. "What do the knights do?"
Draco watched as the boy considered the board, and then retracted the horse figure on square. The boy was hardly moving at all, his usual hyperactive actions stilled by a frown on his face in concentration.
"I don't know how you do it, Snape," said Ron, shaking his head at his son, "but my thanks. I swear that boy moves even in his sleep."
Harry laughed, moved his queen and promptly got it stolen by Ron's rook. Draco snorted.
"Hopeless, Potter," he said.
"And you could do better?" he retorted.
"Course," he said.
"That a fact, Malfoy?" asked Ron.
"Pretty much," said Draco.
"You're on," said Ron.
"Hey, I'm playing," said Harry.
"And you're about to be checkmated in, what, three moves, Weasley?" asked Draco.
"Something like it," agreed Ron. "There's nothing you can do Harry. Just let it go."
Harry sighed, but vacated his seat.
"Ready to win this?" Draco asked Dragon, who nodded and grinned. Draco swapped seats with Harry, taking Dragon with him. The pieces reset themselves and Ron went first with the usual pawn move. Draco followed suit. Within five minutes Draco realized that Ron was very good, and within ten minutes, Ron was realizing the same about Draco.
Draco noted that while chess games were taken seriously, they were very informal. In the middle of the game, Ron was called away by Hermione to hold Victoria Dawn for awhile and the game was put on hold while Ron showed his daughter off to Draco, who had to admit she was a gorgeous girl with red-orange hair and pale blue eyes. Fred and George had already given her a nickname, Vicki-D, which reminded Draco of an orange juice brand in America, Sunny-D, but he didn't say anything. Ron returned to the game, and two minutes later Draco was called away by Zakir, who wanted to show Draco the drawing he had made after finishing his own game with Sev.
Draco praised it appropriately, and then had to set Dragon down who also wanted to color.
"Queen to E-5," he called, as he made sure Dragon was settled.
Ron looked up at him. "You don't need to see the board?" he asked.
"No," said Draco.
Ron smiled. "Grand," he said, and flipped a switch on the edge of the board. He went and sat next to his wife. "Now, we can play anywhere, and the pieces will still move. Bishop 2 to A-3," he said, a challenge apparent in his eyes as he resolutely stared away from the board.
Draco smirked, sitting down with his 'brother' and Dragon, and picking up his own crayons. He sketched out a few plans for the new wing on the Ministry, planning to wait awhile before responding to see if Weasley forgot the positions of his players. Ron obviously knew what he was doing because he didn't say anything. Draco frowned at his sketches, crumpled up the paper, and threw it in the fire.
"Look, Draco," said Zakir, shoving a new piece of parchment in his face. "A broom!"
"I see," said Draco, shifting so that he was lying on his stomach, propped up in his elbows, a posture he would often take when he was in Hogwarts studying. "What kind of broom is it?"
"A flying broom," said Zakir. "I wanna go flying!"
Draco was about to answer but his cell phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket and answered it. "Malfoy."
He never figured out who it was because Ginny came over from where she was helping Faye braid hair, snatched it from his hand, and snapped it closed.
"That's my phone!" he protested, struggling to his feet.
"Your point?" Ginny asked, holding the phone behind her back.
"Give me my phone," he said, holding his hand out with an impatient look.
"You're not at work, Malfoy," said Ginny. "Give it a rest."
"I'm always at work," said Draco. "And that was an important call."
"This is a work free environment," said Ginny, defiantly.
"Ginevra," Draco began, "give-,"
"If you keep it up, I will be forced to take drastic measures," Ginny warned.
"If you keep it up, you will be fired," Draco warned right back.
"Do you promise no more calls?" Ginny asked. "Will you let your voicemail get it?"
"Yes," said Draco. "Messages, no calls."
"I'm holding you to your word," said Ginny. "As self superior as you think you are, England will survive without you for a few hours."
"Phone," said Draco, glaring as the occupants of the room laughed, not hiding the fact that they were listening in.
She handed it to him and he put it back in his pocket, still glaring.
"Better hide your crayons, Zak," he told the kid. "She'll grab those next."
He sat back down, sketching some more rough outlines, then looked up at Ron. "Rook 1, C-5." He returned to his sketches, laying back down on his stomach and grunting when Zak decided to jump on his back.
Someone else came into the room then, but Draco didn't look up. Zak was sitting on Draco's back, peering over his shoulder at Draco's drawing and trying to steal his crayon. Meanwhile Dragon had moved over and was turning Draco's blueprint into a very fearsome looking dragon.
"Dragon, get your own paper," said Draco, trying to shift away but in doing so giving Zak the perfect opportunity to grab his crayon. "Hey!" said Draco, not letting go of the coloring implement. Zak giggled madly and Draco retaliated by turning on his side and dumping the kid off. He then proceeded to tickle his stomach until Zak relinquished his hold on the crayon.
"Thank you," said Draco, returning to his drawing. "And you," he said to Dragon who was grinning, "just loosed a dragon in the Ministry of Magic."
Dragon merely smiled even wider. Draco was not expecting to hear the next voice from the person who had just entered.
"Hello, Mr. Malfoy."
His head jerked up, his gaze resting on the face of the new Headmistress of Hogwarts, and he said the first thing that came to mind. "Holy shit!"
Zak cackled wildly. "Shit!" he crowed, jumping up and down. "Shit, shit, shit!"
Draco sat up, nabbed the boy, and pulled him onto his lap, his hand clamping over the child's mouth. "Professor McGonagall," he said, "how are you?" Beside him on the couch Pansy and Hermione were trying not to laugh and failing; he shot them a glare.
The stern woman regarded him severely. "Very well and yourself?"
"Quite well," he said. Zak pulled his hand away from his mouth and regarded the woman in front of him.
"Shit," he said brightly. On the couch next to Hermione, Ron gave a bark of laughter and then clamped his hands over his mouth much like Draco had done to Zakir.
"Excuse me for a moment, Professor," said Draco. He looked at Zak. "That's a bad word to say," he said to the boy.
"You said it," said Zak.
"I was bad," said Draco. "Don't say it anymore, alright?"
"Why?"
"Because it's bad to say it. You can say it when you're older."
"Really?" asked the boy.
"Yes," said Draco. "When you have your own house."
That seemed to satisfy the boy who smiled and then stole his crayon again, then stole the paper, and scribbled all of the Ministry of Magic and the dragon within it.
"You can say it when you're older?" Hermione asked, still giggling and not seeming upset that her son learned a new word. Draco figured that Zak had already heard it by the calm way Hermione was taking it.
"Well, when he has his own house he can say it if he wants to," said Draco, defending himself.
"Draco, darling," said Pansy, "I really hope you learn some better parenting skills before you have children."
"I don't plan on having any," said Draco, as the two boys clamored over him in their attempts to show them their new pictures. "I already have enough."
"Dinner," said Mrs. Weasley coming into the room and immediately there was a scramble from the Weasley men to get to the dining room; Draco followed at a more moderate pace.
The dining room was holding a large table for the adults and a smaller table for the kids. Because it had to accommodate so many people, there was barely any room to walk around. Draco squeezed into a seat between Ginny and Harry.
Dinner was loud, noisy, and probably the most fun Draco had experienced in a long time. Insults, he found, were the most common form of endearment and people would do anything for a laugh, which included the telling of many childhood escapades.
"When Mum went into labor with Ginny, it was pretty sudden, and so Dad went with her and I was stuck watching the kids," said Bill. "I was eleven at the time, Charlie was nine, Percy was, what, five I think, Fred and George were three and Ron was one. Anyway, so Fred and George were always color-coordinated, right, so we could tell them apart. Fred was red, George was green."
"Ahh," said Harry. "The Christmas theme."
"Sounds like the Head Dormitory during our seventh year," said Draco to Hermione, who snorted.
"I really hated that room," she said. "Mainly because you were in it. You probably hated it because I was contaminating your air." She laughed lightly.
"Actually it was the perpetual holiday décor that got to me," said Draco. "All that good will and happiness, not my thing. I felt I should go around saying 'Merry Christmas' all the time."
"'Merry Christmas'?" asked Harry.
Draco winced. "Sorry, American phraseology. 'Happy Christmas', then."
"Poor bloke," said Blaise, shaking his head.
"So what happened?" asked Pansy to Bill, getting the story back on topic.
"So as I was babysitting them," said Bill, "I had to leave them, for I swear, maybe thirty seconds, and I come back, and they are both completely starkers and I have absolutely no clue who is who, and whenever I call Fred, both of them look up, and when I say George, they don't respond."
The table burst into laughter, even the Weasleys who had no doubt heard this story a hundred times.
"What did you do?" asked Pansy.
"Went outside and grabbed a gnome and showed it to them," said Bill. "You see a few weeks back a gnome had attacked Fred and he'd been petrified of them ever since. As soon as he sees the little bugger, he bursts into tears, though I could have been wrong," he said. "And we may never know to this day who the real Fred Weasley is." The last was said in a solemn, creepy voice and Draco smirked.
"Bishop 2 to B-6," said Ron.
"Knight 1 to B-6," said Draco, playing with the remaining food on his plate. "Check."
"Rook 1 to B-6," said Ron.
"Are you two seriously playing chess?" asked Mrs. Weasley.
"Yeah," said Ron. "Your move Malfoy."
"I'm thinking," said Draco.
"A rare occurrence," said Harry.
"And yet a great deal more common then the emission of your own brainwaves," said Draco, his eyebrows knitting as he studied the board in his mind.
"So you are admitting that you rarely think," said Harry.
"I'm admitting that I rarely need to," said Draco.
"You're full of it, Malfoy," said Harry.
"And I thought the savior of the wizarding world was supposed to be nicer," said Draco.
"Hate to break it to you, Draco, but you're the one saving the world now."
"The economy," Draco amended. "I have no interest in the people. Numbers are a lot easier to manipulate."
"Spoken like a true Slytherin," said Harry.
"Thank you," said Draco.
"I forgot you would take that as a compliment." Chuckles from the Gryffindors.
"You can't help it; you're naturally dense." Chuckles from the entire table now. Harry frowned.
"Brat."
"Scarhead."
"Prat."
"Potty."
"I resent that."
"Hey look, you can rhyme. Congratulations."
Fred and George snorted while chewing and Fred nearly choked. The rest of the table looked highly amused, although Professor McGonagall looked a little shocked.
Harry opened his mouth to respond but Mrs. Weasley beat him to it.
"Alright, that's enough," she said, smiling indulgently, then spotting Draco's half full plate and noticing none of the food was making its way to his mouth. "You are going to eat that all, young man."
"Yes, ma'am," he said.
His cell phone rang. He pulled it out and looked at the caller ID. The Minister of Magic. Damn. He looked at Ginny.
"It's the Minister," he said.
"Draco, don't," said Ginny.
"If you'll excuse me," said Draco to the table, getting up before they could even respond.
He had just said hello when Ginny grabbed the phone from him again.
"Hello, Remus?"
"Lupin!" yelled Fred and George, banging on the table.
"Yes, it's Ginny. And that was Forge. Look, Draco's not available at the moment, you'll have to call tomorrow. Thank you for understanding. Good-bye." She closed the phone and stared at him. "You said no more calls."
"It's the bloody Minister, Ginevra," said Draco.
"You promised," said Ginny, looking disappointed. He hated that look on her face.
"Look, Ginevra," he began, but stopped in open-mouthed horror as she drew back and hurled his phone at the far wall, making Fred and George duck out of the way. His phone shattered. The entire table turned to Draco; Draco turned to Ginny.
"What the bloody hell was that for?" he demanded.
"Well, you've done it twice," said Ginny. "Plus, you broke a promise."
There were chokes of laughter from all around the table. Draco just stared.
"My phone," he said, still in shock. "You threw-that was-," he trailed off, unable to form a coherent thought.
"Draco," said Blaise, "You alright?"
"It's just cell phone separation anxiety," said Ginny, pushing him back into his chair. "He's become a little too attached. Luckily there are ways to deal with the loss. This is what we call invisible cell phone therapy." She extended her thumb and pinky finger like a phone. "Do this, Draco," she said, speaking in a baby voice. "This is your new cell phone. Ready, I'm going to call you." She mimed poking buttons on her fingers and held her hand to her ear. "I'm calling you Draco!" she said mock excitedly. "Answer your phone!"
There were full out bursts of laughter as Draco turned back to his dinner, ignoring the red-head who was giggling madly beside him.
"You didn't answer your phone, Draco," she said, pouting prettily.
"And give you an excuse to smash my hand into a wall?" asked Draco.
"What?"
"You said no calls anymore and then you smashed my cell phone," said Draco. "Now you're enticing me to answer another call so you have an excuse to smash my hand. You're a temptress, that's what you are," he said, pointing at her accusingly with his fork.
The table laughed anew at his matter-of-fact tone.
"She's just a woman," said Blaise. "They're always changing their minds."
That drew a chorus of indignant remarks from the women while the men laughed.
"For that," said Faye. "The men get to wash the dishes."
"Thanks a lot, Zabini," Ron grumbled.
"Suck it up, Weasley," Zabini grinned.
The men did do the dishes, but the women did the dessert dishes. Then the entire party went outside. Hermione and Pansy had Fred and George take the patio couch to the lawn where they sat holding their babies while the others flew broomsticks. Pansy wouldn't let Dragon on, so Draco took Zak. The kid wasn't lying when he said he liked to fly. He was laughing the whole time, even when Draco pulled a steep dive that made Hermione scold him for his recklessness.
The younger children were put to bed half an hour later and the real game began. Charlie and Harry were Seekers and team captains in charge of picking their players. Harry shocked them all by picking Draco first.
"I'll take Draco as Chaser," he said. Draco grinned as he went to join the Boy-Who-Lived. "You had better be good," he whispered to Draco. "I don't want to regret this."
"Oh, you won't," said Draco. Harry picked Ginny as their other chaser, due to the shortage of players they had to make do with lesser numbers. George was their beater, and Ron was Keeper. The other team had Blaise, Penny and Faye as Chasers, Fred as Beater and Blaise as Keeper.
Because of the different levels of playing, there were different levels of scoring. If Faye or Penny scored a goal it was thirty points, if Bill scored it was twenty because Ron was a good Keeper. Ginny and Draco's goals were only worth ten. Both Charlie and Harry could toss the Quaffle, but couldn't score, and if Charlie caught the snitch it was worth 150, where as it was only worth 75 if Harry caught it. Hermione, Pansy, Percy, Fleur, Sev and McGonagall were the unofficial referees while Mrs. Weasley kept the older kids occupied inside.
The hoops were a typical backyard set, only two goals on each side and only twenty five feet in the air, but it was just as intense. The minute Percy let the balls loose, Draco was there, battling for the Quaffle. He grabbed it, ducked under Bill, and tossed it to Ginny. He remembered that she was a good player, but this was the first chance he actually noticed her. She was fast, her movements not smooth and effortless like his seemed, but almost chaotic and constantly switching directions, but fascinating to watch.
The game was friendly, but violent. Draco found out that it was okay to bang into the other male team members while playing, but he and the other men refrained from going after the girls, though the Weasley brothers had no qualms about attacking their sister, though they did so gently.
Draco got hit rather roughly by Charlie who was going after the fly away Quaffle. The Seeker rammed right into his outstretched arm with the handle of his broom, and while the contact was intentional, the force was not. Draco bit back a grunt, and pulled right sharply in a barrel roll.
"Sorry mate," Charlie called, sweeping off with the Quaffle. "Do you want to call a foul?"
"Just shake it off, Malfoy," yelled Ron.
Draco clenched his teeth and flipped in the air, leaning forward and shooting forward to follow after Charlie. He followed right on the dragon tamer's tail until he passed, and Draco darted forward to intercept it. He then took it all the way down to the other goal to slam it in. He took a quick victory lap around the pitch, slapping hands with Ginny who cheered him on.
They worked well together even though none of them had ever played on the same team. He supposed it must be because they worked together and so could read each others gestures and signals. Draco took his revenge on Charlie by 'accidentally' bumping shoulders as they passed, causing the Seeker to lose sight of the Snitch he had just spotted. The Weasley swore at him; Draco responded with a rude American gesture. Fred nailed him once with a bludger to the ribs, and Bill had a habit of checking him roughly when he had the Quaffle. Draco checked back just as harshly.
There was only one injury that caused the game to be put on hold. Fred and George had been whacking bludgers at each other, and Harry had inadvertently flown into one while chasing the Snitch and had taken one to the head. He had managed to land, rather clumsily, and the whole team landed and crowded around the Seeker. Sev pushed his way through to examine him, and pronounced him fine, but he would have one hell of a bruise. He had then forced the boy hero to drink one of the pain relief potions Sev always had on him and the game began again.
"Bishop 1 to E-5," Draco yelled to Ron, intercepting the Quaffle from Penny.
"Knight to E-5," Ron hollered back.
Draco dipped sharply, then pulled straight back up and lobbed the ball to Ginny, who caught it easily and then passed to Harry.
"Queen to E-5!" he shouted.
"Rook to E-5. Check!"
"Knight to E-5."
"Pawn to A-6."
Draco went low to catch the pass Harry threw and Bill was on top of him, forcing his broom so low his legs dragged across the grass. He tried to rise but Bill's broom handle was right in his back, and he slipped sideways, jamming his shoulder into the ground. He rolled up, his leg out, catching Bill and forcing him down. Bill's broom caught the ground and he sprawled. Draco tossed the Quaffle to Ginny who scored. And one second later and the game was over with an anti-climatic catch from Harry who merely spotted the Snitch two feet away from him.
Draco landed and laughed at Bill who was just getting up. The ground was rather muddy and Bill's entire left side was covered in the brown paste. His own pants were streaked with green stains.
"Think that was funny, do you?" Bill asked.
"Yeah," said Draco, watching the others land in various states of disrepair. Fred had a bloody nose and George was holding his wrist. Charlie simply looked disheveled, Harry was rubbing his head, Ron had a hand on his ribs and a black eye from a bludger, and Blaise's limp was more pronounced, but Draco suspected that it was more because he had been on a broom than because he had been injured. The girls were fine.
He was so distracted by the others that he didn't notice Bill until the eldest Weasley had seized him in a headlock and was dragging him to the ground.
"Revenge is sweet!" shouted Bill, trying to push Draco's face in the mud. Draco twisted out of the grip, but not before Bill had thoroughly mussed his hair all the while. Within two seconds it had been a full out mud fight with even the girls joining in. Draco managed to get Harry completely covered, but then a glob of mud had been smeared into his hair by a grinning Ginny Weasley.
He tackled her, gently, and returned the favor. Then Mrs. Weasley had barged out and ordered them all to quit it and to get on the porch where they would have to stay until they left because not even a cleaning charm could remove all of the mud.
It was a rowdy group on the porch while Mrs. Weasley was fussing over the injuries on the men. It was late and had gotten quite cold and dark so Hermione had brought out hot mugs of tea which they all accepted thankfully. Right now Mrs. Weasley was checking over Harry, prodding his skull where the bludger had landed.
"Seriously, I'm fine," said Harry trying to duck out of the way. Seeing as he was well enough to protest Mrs. Weasley grudgingly let him go only to turn on Draco.
"How are you?" she asked.
"I'm fine, just a couple of bruises," he said.
"And where are those bruises?" she asked.
"I ran into his arm," said Charlie who was across from him. Draco glared at the Weasley, but he only grinned.
"Which arm?" she asked.
Draco held out his right arm and she pushed up the sleeve, making Draco grimace. Charlie's broom had smacked into his forearm and left a gruesome black and blue mark, and it was swollen in a hard knot. Mrs. Weasley gently ran her hand along the bruise to feel for a break and Draco had to bite back a curse.
"Well, not broken," she said. "I'll get you some Bruise Begone potion to take down some of the swelling." She reached for the bag she had brought out and rummaged around in it, pulling out a green bottle and a rag. She poured some of the foul smelling potion on the rag and lightly spread it over the bruise. "Leave that on," she said, "and don't scratch. Alright, who's next? Ron, what's wrong with your ribs? Take off your shirt."
Ron obviously knew there was no disobeying his mother and so he pulled off the red sweater and the under shirt, wincing as he did.
"Bruised," Mrs. Weasley pronounced, and Ron's ribs got the same treatment as Draco's arm. She went inside once she had finished and there was a comfortable silence broken by Draco.
"Bishop 2 to D-7," he said, leaning back in the chair and taking a sip of the tea.
"Rook 1 to B-7," said Ron, scratching at the potion drying on his chest.
"What's that?" asked Charlie, pointing to a small scar on Ron's shoulder.
Ron looked at it and shrugged. "Scar, from the last battle. Piece of glass fell on me."
"I didn't know that," said Harry. "I thought you said you weren't hurt."
"Yeah, well you were so stressed out afterwards I didn't want to upset you," said Ron. "Besides, whenever Hermione sees it, she kisses it. I'm not complaining."
Hermione blushed from where she sat next to her husband, but then she pulled his head down and kissed him soundly in the lips to the hoots and the protests of the group.
"That's nothing," said Charlie. "Look at this." He pulled up his pant leg showing three very long scars that looked recent because they were still red. They ran from his knee to his ankle. "Baby dragon," said Charlie.
"You told mum you were fine," Ron accused.
"Last time I got hurt, she begged and cried for five days straight for me to quit," said Charlie. "Like I'd tell her again."
"I got one better," said Blaise. He stood up balancing on his good leg and pulled down his pants. "I've still got my boxers on," he said as the group protested to his strip, well every one except Pansy who was outside as well. "Look."
It was the first time Draco had seen the finished result of three surgeries and two years of physical therapy. His friend's leg had a huge scar directly above his knee cap and a patch of skin right over his knee that didn't quite match the color of his flesh. Two scars ran from three inches above his knee to three inches below his knee. That was where the surgeon had cut a year after the battle in hopes to gain him more mobility.
"Shit," Bill breathed. "Was that because of the war?"
"Yeah. Part of the ceiling collapsed right on me," said Blaise. "Draco saved my life."
Draco snorted. "All I did was freak out until the medics arrived and nearly kedavra'ed him for saying you were a Death Eater."
"I remember you freaking out," said Blaise pulling his pants back up. "I thought I was dying because I had never seen you that upset. You were practically crying."
"I wasn't crying. I was mad."
"Right," said Blaise. "We believe you." His tone suggested otherwise.
"I was," said Draco. "I even punched the wall and broke my hand."
"Wait," said Harry. "I thought you were stabbed."
"I was," said Draco. "It wasn't that bad."
"You nearly died," said Blaise.
"I did not," said Draco. "I walked up to the infirmary all by myself."
"And then collapsed right there," said Ginny. "I remember you were all pale and leaning against the wall, and then you go to move and pass out. The only reason we knew it was your side was because you were all doubled over."
"Let's see it, Drake," said Blaise.
"See what?" asked Draco.
"The scar," said Blaise.
Draco looked at the group dubiously, but they all seemed interested, even Ginny who had seen it before. He sighed and pulled up his shirt, exposing his side where the scar was.
"Doesn't look so bad," said Fred.
"I was expecting something more dramatic," said George.
"I'm gonna have to agree with Fred and George," said Blaise.
"I appreciate it," said Draco, sarcastically to his friend. "Of course it's not that dramatic. I was stabbed, not slashed."
"The slash would have made a better scar," said Bill.
Draco rolled his eyes then turned around. "Here's where the blade came out on the other side," he said, craning his neck, but he was only ever able to see the second scar in the mirror. It was a smaller mark, because only the tip protruded out of the skin on his back. That got their attention.
"Wait, what?" demanded Ginny, who hadn't seen that scar.
"It came out?" asked Fred.
"All the way out?" asked George.
"That's sick," said Harry. "You were practically skewered."
"I believe the word is impaled," said Charlie.
"I take it back," said Bill. "That is much more impressive than a slash. And a whole lot more disgusting."
"You asked," said Draco. He pulled his shirt back down and smirked at the slightly green look on Ron's face. "Bishop to A-5."
"Knight 1 to B-3," said Ron.
"Knight 2 to C-6," Draco shot back. "Check."
"Rook 1 to B-1," Ron retorted quickly.
"Queen to A-4. Check."
"Pawn 3 to E-6."
"Rook 2 to F-5," said Draco.
"Knight 2 to B-5," said Ron.
"Que-," Draco cut off and looked at Ron who came to the conclusion right when he did. They both took off for the living room, Ron getting to the door a second sooner. Draco followed him as they pounded down the hall and burst into the living room where Sev, McGonagall, and Mrs. Weasley were sitting over tea and biscuits talking.
"Ron, what on earth?" demanded Mrs. Weasley.
Draco stared at the board, so did Ron.
"I don't bloody believe it," said Ron, frowning. "I've never lost a game."
"Well look at who you've been playing with," said Draco quietly, still staring at the board.
"Good point," said Ron.
"And you didn't really lose," said Draco. "It's a stalemate."
"Something wrong?" asked Hermione, as the group all trouped in tracking mud all over the floor.
They both turned around.
"Stalemate," said Draco.
"Well, Malfoy," said Ron, extending his hand. "Good game."
"Back at you, Weasley," said Draco, shaking the offered hand.
"Why couldn't they have gotten along during school?" asked McGonagall to Snape, who snorted into his tea.
"Well, we couldn't have given you too much of an easy time," said Ron.
"I blame it on the Gryffindors," said Draco. Ron smacked him, though lightly.
"No fighting in the house," scolded Mrs. Weasley. "And all of you are absolutely filthy. Back outside with you."
"Actually," said Pansy. "I'm going to take the kids and head back. It's rather late."
"Same here," said Harry, and the others also agreed. Five minutes later Draco was carrying a sleeping Dragon while slinging his laptop over his shoulder. He met Blaise and Pansy by the fire, Blaise was carrying Lida and Pansy had Amandine. He said his good-byes to those who hadn't left yet and promised that he would be back at the next dinner. Ron wanted a rematch.
"Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Weasley," he said to his hostess.
"Not a problem, you're family now, you know."
He smiled at that, getting a warm sensation in his gut he usually associated with to much Firewhiskey. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and sent him off to the Floo, telling him to get right to bed and not do any more work. She really knew him too well.
"We'll make sure he gets to bed," said Blaise, following him. "I'll read him a bedtime story so he falls right asleep."
Draco ignored him and stepped into the green flames. "Malfoy Estate."
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