AN: Thanks for reading! This fluffy story was so fun to write. I usually write Dramione but if you'd like to read more Weasley oriented stories, let me know. Thanks again! DDD
It was much too cold and much too early in the spring for the Weasleys to take Draco Malfoy camping for the first time. They went anyway, Draco eating warmed beans out of tins along with Charlie, Percy, George, and Ron, exactly as they did when they were kids. They had to make this trip while the nights were still long and dark, perfect for revenge.
Well concealed in a wood, they pitched Arthur Weasley's musty old tent, which still did regular duties in spite of being a part of British wizarding history. After midnight, the five of them set off on a hike to the grounds of Goyle Hall.
"I thought you told me there'd be vicious guard dogs out here," Charlie said to Draco, disappointed not to get to meet any.
"They've always been here before," Draco insisted, ducking under twisting, leafless, unkempt tree boughs as they crept toward the house. "They're probably the same dogs as the ones from my childhood, but grown fat and blind and lazy by now."
Ahead of them, by the light of his wand fastened over his ear, Percy was reading a huge sheet of parchment, an official surveyor's report.
"Hey, put the light out before someone spots us," Ron chided him, nervous, glancing over his shoulders, rummaging through his cloak for his Deluminator.
"Keep your hair on, Ronald," Percy hissed in return. "We need to be precise in our plotting. If we set this off anywhere but at the hairline fracture the last survey found in the house's foundation, the hex will come flying right back at us."
"And you do not want that," George beamed, his teeth flashing white in the moonlight, never happier than when he was finishing one of his brothers' sentences. Hauling one of his oldest, most notorious banned products under his arm was cheering him up as well.
Percy frowned over the survey of Goyle Hall he'd nicked from the Ministry's land registry. "Listen, George. You're sure you've taken ALL of the identifying trademarks off it?"
George tutted. "Please, I'm no amateur. None of our products is ever traceable back to us unless we want it that way for marketing purposes. Isn't that right, Ronnie?" he said, grappling his junior business partner into a headlock.
Ron shoved him off. "I should hope not. What am I even doing here? It's cold, it stinks..." he said, stifling a gag. "Really. Charlie's got the dogs, Percy's got the map, Malfoy's got the silent explosive potion, George has - that."
"Yes, so your job is to stand here and wring your hands and look pretty," Charlie said, mussing Ron's hair.
"Pretty? Him?" Malfoy nearly shouted. "I'm standing right here, you know."
"Consider yourself on look-out," Percy said to Ron.
He scoffed. "That's the baby brother's duty. And not to get technical or anything, but I'm older than Malfoy. Though I don't suppose you qualify for any kind of brotherly duty, do you Malfoy?"
Charlie punched Ron lightly on the arm. "When it comes to getting our own very special kind of justice for Hermione and Rosie, I say he qualifies."
"Come now, let's get along, Weasley," Draco said. Somehow, in a crowd where everyone was named Weasley, they all knew he was talking to Ron. "I owe you my thanks, actually. Every time you mangled Hermione's heart at Hogwarts, she wound up with me for some very lovely evenings of consolation."
George laughed far too loudly, doubling over at the waist. "You don't say? Perfect! Krum got there before Ronnie, and now this."
For a moment, Ron was speechless, blinking in the dimness. "Wound up - with - with Malfoy? Doing what? What - what in the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"
Charlie smacked Ron on the back, laughing. "Right. Now you've got it, let it go."
"Wound up - but - "
"Shut it," Percy said, his eyes darting up from the survey. "Listen."
In the distance, a hound was howling, low and gritty but with enough menace to make the hairs stand up on the back of almost everyone's neck. Charlie sprung to attention. "There we are. And I'm off." He sprinted off in the direction of the growls and barks.
The rest of the men picked up their pace, following Percy to the damaged section of the Hall's foundation. Draco and Percy bent over George to watch him at work.
"It's a fair bit like the original portable swamp," George explained as he set up his hex. "Only it's bi-directional. It will seek out the low ground inside the cellar once the crack in the wall is opened, AND it will track backward toward the local swamp. That'll make it look like one big connected natural accident and keep Percy from getting sacked."
"Yeah, cheers," Percy muttered.
George sniffed at the air. "Based on the stench, I'd say the natural swamp can't be far off."
Percy hummed, squinting at the survey again. "It's due west of here, and only about 30 metres away."
George frowned, crunching figures in his head while Draco made calculations of his own, whispering and counting on his fingers.
"Right," Draco said. "Just let me know when you're ready for the breach in the wall and I'll mix the rest of the Whisper Whomp spell."
"You can set it off remotely, can't you?" George said. "Wand range for our Banned Bi-directional Uber-swampage is a good 10 metres. But if you're too close when it blows - well, your missus might not let you near that new son of yours for weeks."
Malfoy produced a broom shrunk to the size of a paint brush from his cloak and restored it to flyable dimensions. "I'll be on this when I mix the final reagents. If I fly away quickly enough, I should be clear before it goes off. What'd you reckon?"
George shrugged. "Only one way to find out."
Everyone but Draco backed away, producing and mounting brooms of their own. There was no more sound of dogs in the distance. Charlie had bested them and it was now time to make Gregory Goyle pay.
Balancing on a hovering broom, Draco poured the final reagent into the vial of Whisper Whomp potion, dashing it against the base of the foundation. The only sound was a deceptively quiet hiss, but Draco knew to bend over his broom to outrun the rising cloud of destruction. Without any more sound, the force of the explosion pushed at him from behind. The Weasley brothers rose with him, jetting to a safe distance as George's Uber-swamp unfurled itself in two directions, in and out of the crack in the wall of Goyle Hall.
As if out of nowhere, Charlie appeared, three spiked dog collars looped around his forearm like trophies.
"You alright?" Ron asked.
Charlie smirked. "Yeah, lovely old hounds. Bit sleepy though." He floated with his brothers and his best friend, their feet barely clearing the tops of the trees. "Will you look at that," he marveled as the faintly glowing green ooze of the natural swamp fused with George's hex and flooded into the house where Goyle slept for the last time.
The wind picked up and a wave of stench washed over all of them. Ron heaved and steered his broom back toward the tent, the rest of them following.
Draco smacked a high five against Charlie's palm. "Justice for our women and children."
"Indeed," Charlie said. And they barely restrained themselves from taking a traditional victory flight across the face of the moon.
According to reports in the Daily Prophet, the new master of Goyle Hall, the young Gregory, had neglected the upkeep of the old place and it was now corrupted by local swampland and completely ruined.
The Crabbe family took young Goyle into their home while volunteers from the historical society fought to restore the damage to the grade two listed building. But the longer Goyle stayed with the Crabbes, the less interest he had in ever leaving. But Madam Goyle, young Anya, couldn't bear the Crabbe's hospitality and moved back to her family on the Continent, never to return.
The Weasley brothers and Draco all returned home from their camping trip filthy with the smell of the swamp spell. It called for a long day of bathing.
Draco soaked in the manor's vast, resort-like bathtub holding his tiny son like a slippery fish. After a night on her own, Astoria was exhausted enough to insist he make himself useful by bathing the baby while he was in there. Rosie Weasley was a great, robust baby but infant Scorpius was still very small. He was putting on weight quickly though, and getting strong enough to begin to hold his own head. His pale grey eyes were bright and wide open, fixed on his father. He was not so new that Draco was afraid he'd break him anymore. In the warm, sudsy water, he held the baby close, tucked between his arm and his chest.
Draco lectured little Scorpius about the importance of choosing good friends and following his heart, not social status, to find them. "Real friends nurture and protect us. And that is why," he finished, "you will never meet the men who could have been your Uncles Crabbe and Goyle."
"Don't make it sound so morose, darling," Astoria said, an impossibly fluffy towel covering her hands as she reached out to take the baby out of the bath. "End the lesson on a happy note."
"Right," Draco said, turning in the water as he handed the baby over, still speaking to Scorpius's sweet pink face as it peeked out from the towel. Astoria rubbed his fine, usually invisible blond hair into a delicate pouf. "Real friends like your Auntie Hermione and Uncle Charlie are doing their best to take care of your Rosie until you're old enough to do it yourself."
"Draco - "
"What? If a soulmate isn't a happy note to end on, I don't know what is."
"Yes, but don't pressure him," she scolded, kissing Scorpius's cheeks.
"What pressure? He doesn't even speak English yet," Draco reasoned. He lifted his hand to trail one wet finger tip along Astoria's jaw. "It's my promise to Scorpius of a happier childhood than I had, surrounded by people who love him for who he is, not for what he has."
That melancholy little boy's heart of Draco's - these glimpses of it always left Astoria so sad, so desperate to love him better. She leaned over the edge of the tub, to where his chin rested on the porcelaine, and she kissed his mouth. Her lips were sweet with kissing the baby's cheeks and left him smiling.
"You are mad but lovely," she said. "And you still stink. Dunk your head again while I bring more de-scentifier."
With a smirk, he took a breath and disappeared below the bubbles.
Later...
They had meant to arrive together at platform 9 ¾ at Kings Cross for Rose and Scorpius's first send off to Hogwarts. But as usual, the Malfoy's were late, and the Weasleys had gone on ahead. The Malfoys came crashing through the pillar in a rush after most everyone else had arrived.
"There she is," Astoria sang to the pale boy at her side. "There's our Rose. And Hugo's come to see you off too."
"Lovely. They're waiting with their cousins," Draco said with a false sunniness that didn't fool anyone.
Scorpius's heart sank. Rose was lost among her kin, one ginger head in a whole mob of them. In the crowd and the excitement, no one had spotted the Malfoys yet.
Scorpius tugged backward on Astoria's arm as she moved to join them. "Mum, it's okay," he said. "We're fine waiting here."
Draco and Astoria exchanged a troubled look over the top of his head. "But Rose will be wanting to see you," Astoria said.
Scorpius shook his head. "I'll find her later. It's fine."
Draco cleared his throat. "Well sure, there's Rose over there. But there's also James Potter. You know him. He's a second year now. Might be nice, traveling with someone who already knows the school."
"He won't want a baby around. It's fine," Scorpius said. "How would I like it if Hugo was tagging along with us?"
Astoria pursed her lips. "Ah, this is a bit like getting used to Hugo again, isn't it. Rose is a friend worth having, and that means a friend that needs sharing."
"Not for long," Scorpius said, his eyes glazing over as he watched the Weasley clan through the crowd.
Draco sighed. "There's no need to expect the worse, Scorp."
"There is," he said. "They're going to take me to the school, sit me down in front of everyone, put that hat on me, and turn me into a Slytherin, like both of you. Rose and this lot will all be Gryffindor and we'll be made to fight one another until we're grown ups."
Draco crouched in front of Scorpius. He'd had nothing like a growth spurt yet and was a little small for his age, still shorter than Rose. "Malfoys don't let anyone tell them who their friends are. And you're not the only member of our family here. Don't forget that your cousin Teddy is a prefect this year. Look, he's right there with the Potters. With blue hair today. No, my boy, you go where you like with whoever you like at that school and if anyone gives you trouble - "
His words were cut off by the sound of Scorpius's name being called in a loud clear voice, a heroic voice. The Malfoys looked just as the crowd of Weasleys parted and Auntie Hermione came into view, beckoning them. Scorpius had seldom seen her like this, in public with strangers watching her with so much admiration, as if she was more than a witch, something like an angel.
She looked marvelous. Her hair was massive and she was dressed from head to toe - her hat, coat, dress, boots - all in Slytherin green. Harry Potter looked on over her shoulder, grinning approvingly. Uncle Charlie stood beside her, their arms linked, his hair as red as ever but with a green muffler hand-knit by Hermione slung around his neck.
"Scorpius, darling, come closer so you can find a coach with the rest of them," she called, her arm stretched out, her voice loud so everyone gathered on the platform, everyone in the school, would know where Scorpius Malfoy belonged, no matter what his family name was, or what house he was sorted into.
The Malfoys rushed toward her, Astoria coming behind Scorpius, surreptitiously blowing kisses to Hermione over his head. Draco exchanging nods with Potter.
Scorpius took his place next to Rose as Uncle Charlie greeted his father with an affectionate punch in the stomach. The crowd jostled Scorpius's arm into Rose's shoulder. It was just a nudge but he let himself fall into her so she'd shove back at him.
James Potter and his cousin Freddie waved at him before going back to blathering to each other about quidditch tryouts and whether they'd take second years this season. Freddie was as much a Weasley as anyone here, even though his hair wasn't red. Scorpius liked that about him very much.
And that was it, easy. For a moment, even on the crowded platform, Scorpius had Rose Weasley to himself.
"Come on. Let's go cheer up Molly," she said, pulling at his wrist. "She cries for Auntie Audrey every time they send her off to school. It's pathetic and she hates it, but that's our Moll."
"Cheer her up?" Scorpius said as they moved toward the sniffling red-head trying to be brave now that it was her second year of leaving for school. "How in blazes do we do that?"
Rose rounded on him, beaming her smile. "We tell her the truth: that now that you and me are at school, it's going to be fun."
Charlie and Hermione left the train station alone. They had shut down their own house in preparation for spending a term in Romania, and they were spending their final days in Britain bouncing between relatives' houses. Today, it was the Grangers' house in London. The Drs. Granger themselves were at the surgery until the evening, and Ginny had begged to let them take Hugo back to theirs to keep Albus from moping about not getting to see him again until Christmas.
Hermione strolled through the empty house, trailing her fingers over the mantlepiece of the Floo Charlie had built. Its shelf was now lined with photographs of her parents, her marriage, and her children. "I know this little house doesn't compare to the Carpathians for you, Charlie," she said. "But I always get a little nostalgic here."
Charlie clucked his tongue. "This house? You mean the one where we spent our newlywed days? The place where Rosie was born? No, it's loaded with nostalgia for me. Especially," he said, flicking his wand at the sofa to enlarge it and stepping behind her to clasp his arms around her waist, "especially this sofa. And now that I think of it, also this rug. And the kitchen table. And don't get me started on the bathtub in your parents' room - "
"Alright," she laughed as he burrowed his face through her hair, toward her neck. "You do feel for this house. Point made. Now you can restore the sofa - " She lost her breath as he kissed her throat. "Or not…"
It felt so effortless it might as well have been magic that lifted Hermione over the coffee table and laid her down on the sofa. It was actually Charlie's arms, strong as ever as the years went by. He let himself fall on top of her, the springs creaking dangerously beneath them.
"Be careful," she laughed into his face as he kicked off his shoes and threw his jacket on the rug. "You never had any feel for the limitations of Muggle furniture."
"It's easy enough to mend," he said, tugging at the laces of the green dress.
"Oh look, Charlie," she said, reaching between her side and the back of the sofa. "Mum and Dad are still using your favourite cushion."
He snorted a laugh at the sight of the pillow that had once been all she'd left him to wear one morning. He plucked it from her fingers and tossed it into the kitchen. "For the afternoon we've got ahead of us, we won't be needing that."
Everything in the Grangers' house was back in order by the time an owl arrived at the window of the guest room late that night. It was Rose writing to report on her first day. Being allowed to use a wand was amazing. Molly hadn't cried for long. James and Freddie already had detention. Scorpius's dashing older cousin Teddy Lupin becoming a prefect was impressive enough to warrant some rather reckless gushing. And a girl named Parkinson had passed Scorpius a note that made him huff and scowl, but he wouldn't let Rose read it. And as for sorting, there had never really been any doubt: Rose was in Gryffindor, and Scorpius was down in the dungeons, in Slytherin.
Hermione heaved a sigh, letting the letter fall on the bed for Charlie to read himself. He traced his fingers along Rose's rough, childish signature at the bottom of the page.
"Honestly," Hermione began. "If they insist on keeping the outdated, unnecessarily divisive house system at Hogwarts, it might be for the best if it dares to put itself between our Rose and Scorpius. Because," she said as she nestled into Charlie's back, "we know that nothing CAN come between them. Our charmed Gravida Sympatico babies."
Carefully, Charlie folded Rose's first letter from school and slipped it between the pages of the book he'd been reading before dousing the light. He hummed in the dark. "They can always choose to be as close or as distant as they want. But yes, maybe between the two of them, they can finally bring an end to Hogwarts houses. Aside from making quidditch tournaments more complicated, there's really no downside to getting rid of them."
Hermione perked up. "I should write some letters. Start a movement - "
Charlie gave a soft laugh. "I thought you just said you trusted the kids to bring it all down themselves. Leave it to Rose and Scorpius and the strength of the Gravida Sympatico bond they've never even heard of."
She sighed hard against the nape of his neck. "I suppose I should trust them. Alright. No letters."
"There's my lovely girl," Charlie said, taking her hand and kissing it. "The next generation - let them have their victories too."