Author's note: Enjoy!
Disclaimer: The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and you know I'm not J.K. because #transrights
Dedication: For Aya!
Warnings: References canon character deaths
The Best Revenge
The shop was always like hell on wheels around the holidays when its four walls were packed with holiday merchandise, pranksters loading up, folks buying gag gifts for sad workplace Christmas gift exchanges, poor sods buying Skiving Snackboxes to get out of family dinners or midnight mass… still, George thrived off the energy. Professor Sprout had once described him (and Fred, at the time) as "capable of photosynthesizing chaos" and George hated to admit it, but she was right. He was good at topping off the shelves without anyone noticing, at connecting people with the perfect purchase in record timing, at making his way through the crowd easily, at ploughing through the hellish cues that always wound up forming at the cash register… Still, he always had time to say hello when one of his niblets swung by the store. Today it was Al, bundled up and rosy-cheeked from the cold.
"Hello," George said, ruffling their messy hair. "Welcome! I'm so glad you're here, I have something in the back for you—I'll pay you ten Galleons if you set it off at Christmas this year without your Gran noticing…"
"Mum said she'd ground me until the next year if I bought anything and said she'd check my pockets when I got home," Al said.
"Ah, she would, your Mum," George sighed. "Highly suspicious woman, I've got no idea why."
Al cracked a smile.
"I'm just here to show my friend around," Al said. They tugged on the hand of an extremely pale boy, eyes wide in amazement, who was also wearing a black cloak with silver clasps and a Ravenclaw scarf. The boy startled and seemed to come back to himself, snapping out of the wonderstruck gaze with which he had looked around. "Uncle George, this is Scorpius. Scorpius, this is my uncle."
"Scorpius," George said. "Scorpius Malfoy, right?"
The boy blushed. There were probably not many occasions where being spotted and labeled a Malfoy were particularly pleasant—and to be fair, George hadn't strictly had to ask. He had heard secondhand how much of a shock Al had given their parents when befriending the offspring of one of their childhood nemeses.
"Yes, sir," Scorpius said. "Pleased to meet you, sir. Your shop is… it's wicked."
"Toldja," Al said. "You should see the back. Can we go in the back, Uncle George?"
"Not during the holidays, it's too crazy back there," George said, eyes still on Scorpius Malfoy.
The boy looked more like his mother—Astoria Greengrass, she'd been in Ginny's year—than his father, though his features were still pale and sharp. George knew that it wasn't productive to hold onto grudges after the war—Kingsley Shacklebolt had said so in each of his three speeches from the throne, when he'd been sworn in as Minister for Magic, but still. The war with Voldemort had taken so much from him. George didn't feel Fred's loss as sharply every day now, but that didn't make it any less real or any less the fault of people like the Malfoys. Still, this boy felt… different than what a Malfoy should be. The energy he gave, nervous and curious and wide-eyed and bushy-tailed, was unexpected and heartwarming. Maybe Al knew how to pick their friends after all…
"Scorpius, I'm going to make a deal with you," George said.
Scorpius' eyes widened in surprise.
"You can have anything that you want in this entire store free of charge," George said. "And Al will show you where all the good stuff is too. But only if you promise to use at least half of it at home, yeah?"
Scorpius' mouth dropped.
"Are you… really?" Scorpius asked.
"Really," George said. "I'm vear-y sure."
Al groaned at the bad joke and Scorpius seemed to register just at that moment that George was down an ear. His jaw dropped as he struggled to figure out what to do with this information. George flicked his wand and one of the magenta shopping baskets flew from its resting spot at the store's entry and into George's hand. He passed it over to Scorpius.
"Just use at least half of it at home, in Malfoy Manor, okay?" George asked.
"Thank you!" Scorpius squeaked. "I… I will."
George nodded, satisfied. This was a much better revenge—and a tribute to Fred if there ever was one.
WC: 720