Sorry, sorry, sorry! I had fully intended on getting this next chapter up much sooner than this. I didn't realise I had only written it in rough, so had a ton of editing to do with it. And then I had a family funeral (some of those ups and downs from January) to deal with, which totally threw me for a few days.
Anyway, it is here now and I really hope you like it – been working on it the past week or so (in-between playing in the long awaited snow!) Thank you for the reviews to my first chapter – very much appreciated and I'm glad those few of you liked it. On with this chapter…
Chapter Two
Because we were running late after the hair disaster, instead of Apparating to our usual spot (an old abandoned kiosk in the local park about a 10 minute walk away) I took us directly to the far end of the school car park, hoping it would be dark enough and full of so many cars that no one would notice us suddenly appear. Checking around before we moved from between the parked cars, I was happy to discover that my judgements had been right.
"Right, come on," I handed them their jackets to put on and walked around the front of a large car, only to make another woman walking past jump.
"Oh!" she grasped her chest. "I didn't see you there!"
"Erm, sorry," I muttered. "I, we, er..." I struggled for an explanation.
"No, it's me," she flapped away my apology. "The dark always makes me a bit jumpy," she laughed lightly at herself.
"Right, well, we'd best go. Sorry again," I told her, heading towards the school entrance.
"Okay, bye," she called and continued on her way.
Finally, we made it into the school and I paused at the secretary's office window. "Hi," I began. "I'm here for the erm..."
"Parents evening?" she sighed, sounding as though she'd had the same conversation numerous times already tonight.
"Yeah, that," I nodded. "Thing is, I had to bring the kids with me," I held up their hands still clasped in mine - I think holding on to them was for my benefit, more than theirs. "So..."
"Not a problem Mr Weasley," she gave a brief smile, "if you go down this corridor, through the double doors and turn left, into classroom 2H, there's a couple of members of staff with some activities for any children who had to accompany their parents," she explained patiently.
"Right, great, thanks. And, erm...where do I go when I've dropped the kids there? I have to meet with..."
"There's a list of teachers names and the classrooms they are meeting in on the board over there," she told me, pointing to it, but not looking up as she typed something onto one of those big Muggle contraptions that sort of resembled a TV.
"Oh, okay." I went over to have a look, found the names and their rooms, but still had no idea which way to go. "Come on," I told the kids, "we'll get you two settled first," I decided. And then I can wander around the whole school looking like a lost idiot, I thought.
I found the classroom for the kids easily enough and they happily ran over to play with some other kids they obviously knew. Rose sat at a table where paper and crayons had been set out and Hugo bounded towards the rug that depicted a town scene and was currently strewn with little toy cars.
"I'll be back in a little while," I told them both. "See you soon and be good. Look out for each other, okay?" I asked. They nodded, but I knew they weren't really listening, Rose was already chattering away with her friend, stating the reasons why purple was the best colour. "Right then," I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, got down on the floor and gave Hugo one too and then slowly left the room, somehow wishing I could stay here with them or take them with me - maybe I wouldn't feel so stupid and out of place then. How absurd was it that my children already understood Muggle culture better than I did?
Of course, that that had been part of Hermione's intention for sending them to a Muggle school before Hogwarts. Not only so they got a good education in the basics and learnt to mix with other children, but, so they could also learn about the culture that was just as much as part of them and their life as Magic was.
Sighing, I headed off, trying to find the right classroom with the teacher I needed to talk to. In the end, it wasn't hard - Hugo's teacher was just two doors down, but she was still in a meeting with another set of parents. So I tried to cram my long, lanky frame into one of the child size chairs set outside and admired the artwork displayed on the wall.
After a few minutes the door opened and the teacher - an older, rather plump lady with a kind face, stepped through with the parents. "Please don't worry," she was telling them, "I'm sure little Mia will settle down soon enough," she smiled and shook their hands. "Thank you for coming." The parents thanked her before heading off down the hall just as she turned to face me. "Mr Weasley?" she asked.
"Erm, yeah," I nodded, watching the leaving parents whispering rather furiously with one another – I grew anxious again, wondering what they had been told that had them so upset. The last thing I needed was to get defensive over my kids in there and cause a scene. Hermione would never forgive me.
"Won't you come inside?" she asked, waiting with for me as she held the door open.
"Oh, right. Sorry," I smiled and leapt out of the chair. Now, it had been years since I had been in school, so why on earth did I feel as though I had just been called to McGonagall's office?
She closed the door behind me. "Please take a seat," she instructed, waving to the one in front of her desk. I turned, relieved to find it was actually adult size and she picked up a file. "I was expecting your wife to attend as well..." she began.
"She was intending to, but I'm afraid she's been delayed at work, she got called into an important meeting. So, you've just got me," I shrugged, sounding almost apologetic.
She smiled and nodded. "That's a shame. Not to worry though, I sometimes catch Mrs Weasley when she drops your children off in the morning, so I can fill her with anything necessary. Now then, what can I tell you about Hugo..." she paused, folding her hands on top of her desk as she perused the file, which I assumed was about my son, in front of her.
"Yeah," I coughed. "How's he doing?"
"Oh, he's doing well." she nodded. "He's settled in at school beautifully, which I know is always a worry for parents when children first start. He knows the routine now and he's made some friends."
"That's good," I nodded along.
"He's also a rather bright child. He was the only one who knew all his letters ad numbers, and was also able to write and read his own name perfectly when he first began. And he's still ahead of the other children with literacy."
I laughed. "That would be my wife's influence. She's big on learning and books. And Hugo often likes to sit with his sister when she does her homework and stuff."
"That's never a bad thing," she smiled. "He also has an incredible imagination," she chuckled to herself.
"Oh right." I gave her a fake smile. Oh bugger – here we go, I thought to myself. Time to try and explain all the freaky stuff my son came out with.
"Yes," she continued whilst looking through a pile of art work and completely missing my internal panic. "The class did some painting today and Hugo painted the most unusual picture. They were asked to paint or draw their favourite things, and this," she pulled a picture from the pile, "is what you son came up with."
I looked at it, biting my bottom lip. Although it was very childish and amateur, there was no disguising the fact it was two people flying on broomsticks. "Erm, right, yeah, that's erm, it's a game," I winced, knowing that sounded lame.
She smiled indulgently, Hugo obviously amused her. "He told me it was him and daddy flying on broomsticks in the garden," she chuckled, "and that you were playing a game called erm...queer...twitch or something?"
"Yeah," I shifted in my seat, feeling my ears heating up. "It's erm, just a game we made up, you know...make believe," I smiled and nodded to myself, hoping that sounded feasible. "He enjoys it,"I shrugged, "so we play it a lot."
"Well, it certainly sounds fun," she laughed. "And how imaginative with the brooms," she shook her head slowly, finding it all endearing or something as she set the painting aside. I kind of wanted to snatch it from her desk and hide it away before it was put on the wall or something – the less seen the better! "Oh, and then there is his fascination with dragons."
"Oh?" I began, cringing again as I scratched the back of my neck. "Dragons you say?"
She nodded. "He is rather taken up with them. Draws them all the time, runs around pretending to be a dragon during playtime a lot as well. And he'll talk your ear off about them if you let him. I must say, he does seem very well informed, knows a lot of varieties."
"Erm, yeah, probably because he's been into them since he was really young," I began to explain.
"He even," she paused to laugh as she remembered something. Oh merlin – what had my son said now? "He told me that he has an uncle who works with dragons and that at home he has a real dragon egg and toy dragon models that fly around his room." She was still chuckling to herself.
I wasn't laughing at all! Dammit Hugo! Everything he'd told her was completely true and after everything Hermione and I had told him about our Magic being a secret. Thankfully, coming from a five year old child it just sounded like he had a very vivid imagination. At least, I hoped that's what his teacher believed.
"Oh, erm, yeah. Actually one of my older brothers works on erm..." I scratched my head, damn, what were those big, really old creatures called? "Dinosaurs!" I blurted out. "Charlie works with dinosaur, er...stuff."
"So, he's a Palaeontologist?" she asked.
I nodded. "Uh huh." Whatever one of them was, I thought to myself. "I guess Hugo gets a bit mixed up and thinks they're all dragons," I laughed, hoping it sounded convincing. "Charlie gave him a, erm… a model of a dinosaur egg once."
"I see. Well, Hugo's a lucky boy. A lot of children, boys especially, are fascinated with dinosaurs. I wonder," she rubbed her chin, "would it be at all possible for your brother to come in and talk to the children about dinosaurs some time? Maybe he could bring some fossils and things to show them? I know they'd all immensely enjoy that," she asked, looking hopeful.
"Oh, erm..." SHIT! Now what had I gotten myself into? I couldn't very well invite Charlie into my kids school to terrify all the four and five year old kids with tales of ferocious dragon battles he'd witnessed, explaining what spells worked best in subduing a grown dragon or showing off all the ghastly scars from burns he'd received when he'd gotten too close to them. "The thing is, he actually works abroad, in Romania, and he doesn't get much time to come home," I told her half of the truth.
"I see, well that's a shame," she sighed. "We're always on the look out to invite interesting people into school who might engage the children for awhile. But, not to worry. It was a nice idea." She flipped through Hugo's file again as I sat there wondering whether I should have a little chat with my son again about how we keep all Magical stuff quiet at school. I suppose, to a not quite five year old wizard though, dragons didn't seem Magical or even unusual – they were just a fact of life.
"Now, Hugo's behaviour..." she began and I cringed again, wondering what he'd done. "Oh, don't worry, it's nothing too bad. I mean, he can be a bit dominating at times and likes to act the fool at others."
I couldn't help it – I laughed out loud. That sounded like the worst mix of his parents ever. "Sorry, I just realised how much he takes after both me and his Mum," I explained when she gave me a strange look.
She frowned, not finding that funny. "Yes, well. Like I said, his behaviour isn't too bad. He listens fairly well to the teachers and he rarely receives reprimands or loses stars on his chart. But, I have caught him swearing on occasion which we have had to have words with him about it. Now, I don't like to judge, but in my experience children usually pick up what they hear at home and..." she fixed me with a pointed stare.
How they bloody hell did she know it was me? Damn! I did feel like I was in McGonagall's office again and about to be given a detention polishing old trophys again or cleaning the potions lab or something.
"I'm sorry," I mumbled guiltily. "He knows they're bad words and that he's not to repeat them. But, I'll erm...I'll have a word with him," I decided. And maybe it was time to really start watching my language around them both a bit more.
"That would be good. And another thing." Oh Merlin, now what? "I have heard him call some of the other children a name that sounds something like muddle or muggle when he gets frustrated or they've upset him somehow. Now, I don't know what he means by that and it doesn't sound like a swear word or anything, but name calling is unacceptable. We try to encourage the children to treat one another with kindness."
"Yeah, right, I see," I nodded, trying to take it serious. "It's erm, it's not a bad word or anything. It, erm, it just means someone's being a bit silly, you know, like a wally," I shrugged, not knowing what else to say. "It's actually a family word," I elaborated when she still looked puzzled. "I grew up in Devon." I went on, as though that explained everything.
"I see. I'm sure he doesn't mean anything malicious by it, but if you could remind him it's not very kind to call his peers names."
"I will. I think Hugo and I will be having a nice long chat. Thank you for letting me know."
She smiled and nodded. "I'm glad you can talk to him, it's obvious that you have a close relationship with your children, which is lovely to see, a lot of father's these days seem somewhat absent," she sighed sadly. "Anyway, to finish I will just add that Hugo is a delight and an asset to the classroom. He's bright, friendly, happy, helpful and imaginative – all the things a little boy should be," she closed his file, signalling that she was finished.
"That's good to know," I smiled, proud of him despite everything else. I knew it couldn't be easy for the kids immersing themselves within the Muggle world and trying to hide what was essentially a huge part of them – their Magic, but they'd both really taken to it. Even better than I had and in a much shorter space of time. I suppose I also had to accept that Hermione had been right – this was a good experience for them. "Though, I wish he was a bit more helpful at home," I chuckled.
"All parents seem to say that," she laughed. "Now, is there anything else you would like to ask me? Any concerns you might have?" she wondered.
"Erm," I paused, scratching my head. I couldn't think of anything – I mean I couldn't very well ask her if he had any uncontrollable bursts of Magic in school, could I? At least, there had been no reports of anything unusual or impossible happening around him, so I think we were okay so far. "No. Thank you. I think you covered everything and it sounds like he's happy and getting on well."
"Oh, he is," she got up and went to towards the door. I took that as my cue to leave and followed suit. "You have a delightful son, Mr Weasley. Thank you for coming and please give my best to your wife. Tell her she can catch me in the mornings if she has any concerns."
"I will. Thank you. Bye," I shook her hand and before I had stepped away she was greeting another parent – this time a lone mother. I had to smile to myself as I headed back to the classroom to check on the kids – I wondered if she would think he was as delightful if she'd seen him an hour ago mooning us and laughing unkindly at his sisters predicament?
Finding the classroom I'd left the kids in wasn't hard – you just had to follow the noise! I poked my nose inside, glad to see they still seemed happy and occupied. Hugo had moved on to playing in the sand tray now, engrossed in filling a bucket beside another child. Whereas Rose had slunk off alone, sat in the reading corner. Noting I had a few minutes until I had to speak to her teacher, I plonked myself down on the floor beside her.
"All right there, honey?" I asked her.
She looked up from her book. "We going home now daddy?" she asked.
"Not quite yet," I pulled a silly face and she giggled at me. "Why are you sat over here all by yourself?"
She shrugged. "They're all just babies," she looked towards the half a dozen or so other kids in the room. She was right, the only ones here now were all much younger than her.
"I see," I nodded. "What are you reading?" She showed me the front of her book, 'We're Going on a Bear Hunt' - I'd never heard of it. "Is it any good?"
"It's just for babies really, I read this years ago," she sighed dramatically. "But they only have the books for the little kids in this classroom," she bemoaned.
"Well, not to worry, we'll be home soon enough and then you can get your hands on you Mum's copy of 'Hogwarts: A History' again!" I chuckled, teasing her, because I knew she'd been reading some of it.
"But it's a good book dad, you should read it. Mum says you hate it though."
"I don't exactly hate it. It just doesn't interest me, and I never saw the point in reading it myself. Especially not when your Mum knows it off by heart. Anything I want to know, I can just ask her." I nudged her with my elbow playfully and she grinned at me before returning to her book. "Well," I groaned as I got to my knees in preparation to stand up, "I'd best go and see what your teacher has to say now. Anything I should know before I go in there? You've not been swearing at school like your brother, have you?"
"That would be your fault, daddy!" she rolled her eyes.
"Yeah," I sighed, feeling a little guilty that it was my fault my son was in trouble. "You're probably right. I'll be back soon. Keep an eye on your brother, okay?" I asked, getting to my feet with an oof.
She nodded, already lost in her book again, I bent to kiss the top of her head before leaving them to it, going in search of Rose's teacher.
It took me awhile to find the next classroom, getting somewhat lost down all the corridors that branched off here and there. Just as I was starting to panic, I finally ran across a young man sat in a classroom alone with the door open. "Erm..." I knocked, "Mr Clayton?" I asked.
He looked up, smiled and then came to greet me. "Yes. You must be Mr Weasley?" he asked, shaking my hand.
I nodded. "Sorry, I erm, got a bit lost."
He laughed, gesturing for me to come into the classroom as he closed the door behind us. "Don't worry. I told the Head that I thought we should provide parents with a map. Even I got lost around here in my first week – much bigger than the school I was at before," he added as he took a seat at his desk, indicating for me to take the seat opposite. "Anyway, thank you for coming. You're erm...alone tonight?" he looked back towards the door.
"Yeah," I sighed. "My wife got delayed at work I'm afraid. She was called into a last minute important meeting. So, I'm here alone." I held my hands up.
He groaned as he nodded to himself. "And I bet you, like me, would much rather be home in front of the TV tonight, eh? It's killing me not knowing what the score is!" he grumbled.
"The score?" I asked, confused.
"Yes, the big match tonight!" he said as though I should know. I tried to think of any important Quidditch matches scheduled tonight and then quickly remembered I was amongst Muggles and he probably meant one of their boring sports like football.
"Oh, right yeah," I nodded, dumbly.
"Who do you think will win? Got to say my money is on West Ham, they've been playing well all season. But, then Man U are the bigger team, so..." he shrugged and brushed his floppy hair back.
"I erm...I don't know. Not heard much about it." I felt like a right prize prat as I fumbled for a reply.
"Not much of a football man then?" he asked. "Rugby? Cricket?" he asked.
I looked at him dumbly, wondering what the hell they were, thinking I had heard them mentioned before. Weren't they insects or something or….oh! Hang on, Hermione's Dad watched cricket – it was that really boring game that went on for days...or weeks or something.
"Erm, no. I...don't really watch much sport," I finally replied, being as honest as I could – because I didn't really get to watch any sport much – listen to it, yes. But it was rare I actually got to a Quidditch match these days.
"Oh," he seemed surprised. "I see. Well, hopefully no one will let slip the score to me before I get to watch the recording." he heaved a huge sigh. "Anyway," he opened a file on his desk and shuffled some papers around. "Yes, Miss Rose," he paused as he read silently through her notes.
"How has she been?" I asked, hoping to keep him on topic and not drift off into talk of football again. I barely knew a thing about the sport – other than that they only played with one ball – how boring.
"Well, you will be pleased to know we have had no more incidents like the one a few weeks back. I trust your wife informed you about all that?"
"Oh, yes." I nodded, thinking back on what had happened last month before half term. The children had been working on Halloween projects and when one of her classmates informed her that witches were ugly, evil old hags with warts on their nose, Rosie had taken rather an offence at that and poked the friends hand with a pencil!
Hermione had had to go in to talk to the teachers about it and the pair of us had a little chat with Rosie at home, explaining that most Muggles didn't really understand Witches and Wizards or Magic. It was all fantasy to them and something they read about in fairy-tales and fantasy novels, so that was all they knew – made up stuff they read and silly drawings. She was a bit upset that we'd punished her for it (two weeks with no Magical books) but, we couldn't very well have her thinking that stabbing people with pencils whenever she got upset was acceptable!
"I'm relieved to hear nothing else has happened, I don't really know what got into Rose, other than her being very upset. But, we've spoken to her and she knows she's not to do anything like that again."
"It was somewhat out of character for her, but everything between the girls has been fine since. Rose is a very intelligent little girl – her reading, literacy and numeracy are top of the class. She's confident, though sometimes quiet. And, she can still be rather...erm, headstrong at times – likes to take charge." He read his notes on her out to me
"Sounds exactly like her Mum," I chuckled.
"If she grows up to be just like your wife, I'd say that was a very good thing." Mr Clayton looked up and smiled.
"Erm, right," I commented, eyes wide in shock. Was he just hitting on my wife or something?
"A couple of things I did want to mention though," he continued, missing my expression.
I groaned inwardly, knowing this was too good to be true. What had Rose done that seemed weird to them? What other excuses was I going to have to make up on the spot? I glanced up at the clock, wondering when I could get out of here.
"Yes?" I instead asked, politely.
He smiled, he was obviously amused about something. My heart dropped – that usually meant one of my kids had let slip something about our world that sounded so improbable to them, they thought it was hilarious. "Our theme for the next few weeks is people in the community who help us. Meaning people like doctors, policemen, firemen, nurses, postmen etcetera. And, when we were discussing them, Rose, well first of all she refers to all doctors and nurses as healers, which I suppose makes sense in her mind. But, she also swears blind that a postman has never been to her house. Now, when I asked her who brought the letters and packages, she replied that an owl did."
I suddenly felt as though I had a huge boulder in my stomach. One of these days, would one of our kids reveal too much and get us into serious trouble? "Oh, erm...she did?" I smiled, pretending that I found it amusing.
"Yes. And when I pointed out that was impossible, well, she got rather upset with me."
I forced a laugh, which even to my ears sounded fake. "You know kids and their imagination, right?" I laughed again. "She probably dreamt it," I nodded.
"Perhaps. Rose does seem to have a very...vivid imagination."
"Nothing wrong with that," I shrugged, feeling myself getting rather defensive of my daughter. "Maybe she'll be a writer one day," I suggested.
"No, nothing wrong with it at all. But, it is a little...curious. She gets so upset when someone questions her statements and then she seems guilty about it and goes quiet."
"And you want me to tell her not to use her imagination anymore?" I asked, folding my arms across my chest and getting riled up now. Partly from what he was suggesting and the fact he was questioning my daughter. But also because it broke my heart that my little girl obviously felt bad whenever she accidentally revealed something. It wasn't her fault – she was just a child.
"No, no. That's not what I'm getting at at all," he waved his hands in protest. "I would never want to quash a child's imagination. But, maybe you could just remind her that not everyone shares the same ideas as her. Her imagination is neither wrong nor right since we all see things differently. Bust she shouldn't get upset when no one else agrees with her about...wild ideas."
I inhaled deeply. I suppose that made sense – it was something she was going to have to learn eventually in both worlds. I really wished Hermione was here right now though, because I know she'd have informed this teacher that children were free to imagine whatever they wished and shouldn't be judged, and she'd have done it with eloquence and confidence. Me, I just sounded like a stammering baboon! "Well, I'll see what I can do. But, all children come out with bizarre things at times."
"That they do," he nodded in agreement. "Which reminds me of something rather unusual that happened the other day."
"Unusual you say?" I squirmed in my seat, feeling sick with dread knowing that 'unusual' when it came to my kids, usually meant Magic had been witnessed by Muggles. With Magical children trying to fit in in a Muggle world, uncontrollable bursts of their powers were going to escape at some point. Both of ours had had episodes at home a couple of times – mostly during feelings of extreme emotion. Like the time Hugo threw a tantrum because we'd told him it was time to come inside and he hadn't wanted to yet. Somehow he'd made every door and window in the house lock so that he couldn't get inside! And whilst I was thrilled that it meant they weren't Squibbs (Hermione had given me the dirtiest look for even suggesting such a thing of our children!) it also wasn't great news for kids who spent time with Muggles.
"Yes, I just remembered. It must have been on Monday afternoon, because it was during our PE lesson. See, a classmate had got the last skipping rope, which Rose had wanted. There was a little squabble, but I took Rose aside and let her know she'd have to wait for her turn. The next thing I know, the skipping rope is winding around the classmate's legs, making her fall over. It was very...strange."
I folded my arms again and rounded my shoulders in what I hoped looked an intimidating manner and regarded him carefully. "Now, Mr Clayton, surely you're not suggesting that my daughter tied a rope around some kids legs just because she wanted the skipping rope?" I asked, rather firmly.
"No, no," he waved his hands and quickly looked away from my stare. "Of course not. We all know Rose has a temper, but she's not calculating like that. Besides, she wasn't near the girl when it happened. It's just, I could've sworn that I saw the rope just...move, on it's own. Like...like it was magic or something," he gasped.
My eyes widened and I laughed, nervously. Really, freakin' nervously. "Uh huh...right," I muttered, not wanting to make much of it in case he became more curious. "Now who's the one with the over active imagination?" I asked, feeling rather clever for having diverted his attention away from it.
Mr Clayton laughed too. "I know, I know, it's totally absurd," he shook his head at himself. "It was just so strange, thought I'd mention it," he laughed once, with no humour, looking rather nervous himself. "Anyway..." he abruptly changed the subject, maybe sensing my tension, as he quickly opened her file again. "Rose is doing absolutely fine. I have no concerns about her – she's a very smart young lady and seems to enjoy learning. Books and story writing are her favourite subjects. She's polite and happy, has formed some strong friendships and is quite popular in the classroom. In fact, if we could just curb her temper a little bit, she'd be a model pupil." He closed her file and gave me a genuine smile. "You should be proud of her Mr Weasley."
"I am." I informed him. I'd been proud of my daughter from the moment she was born – every little burp, every coo, every hiccup...everything she did had me beaming with pride.
"Yes, right. Of course you are," he nodded, seeming to sense I was rather fierce when it came to my kids. "Is, erm, is there anything else you would like to ask me? Any concerns you may have regarding Rose?" he wondered, though it was obvious he hoped there wasn't.
"Actually, yes." I sat up straighter and I noted him lean back in his chair away from me. "Rose has mentioned a girl in the class who is being mean to her. Someone Stoneybridge or something? She was quite worried about coming with me tonight in case the girl was here to pick on her. Now, I want to know, is my daughter being bullied?" I demanded, leaning forward slightly.
Mr Clayton held his hands up defensively. "I can assure you Mr Weasley that our school has a strong anti-bullying policy. Anything that does happen is nipped in the bud immediately. But, I am aware of the child you're referring to and that she can be a little...unkind to the other children, Rose isn't being singled out. We are working with the child in question. However, I will try to keep them apart if you wish and keep a close eye on the situation," he offered.
"Good," I nodded. "Rose enjoys school and I don't want her to start worrying about coming."
"I promise it won't come to that. I think the girls have had a bit of a disagreement, but I will keep a closer eye on the situation," he promised.
"Thank you." I stood up then, assuming it was over. "So, if there's nothing else?" I asked.
"Oh, no," he got up to follow me to the door. "I believe that's...oh, one last thing," he paused beside the display on the wall. "We were doing some work on animals last month and talking about pets. The children were asked to paint a picture of their pet, and this is Rose's work," he pointed to a painting of a bright ball of pink fluff. "I've just always wondered, what is it?" he asked me.
I smiled. "That's Elsa," I recognised it immediately. "She's Rose's Py...et," I corrected myself, realising what I had been about to say. I suppose I couldn't berate the kids too much for letting slip a few things – it was hard!
"Oh. I assumed it's a long haired guinea pig or a hamster or something?" he asked, still curious about it.
Not knowing what either of those two creatures were or what they actually looked like, I just nodded. "Yes," I nodded.
"I see. But...well, why is it bright pink?" he asked.
I shrugged. "Why not?"
He seemed lost for words for a moment. "Oh...I suppose you're right. Anyway, thank you for coming Mr Weasley, we appreciate parents who take an interest in their children's schooling. And, if your wife has any concerns or needs to talk to me about anything, please let her know that I can always makes time for her," he smiled, a little too enthusiastically.
Oh, I bet you bloody can! I thought to myself. Yep – the man was crushing on my wife – the slimy git. "Thank you. Good night," I shook his hand and left his room as the next lot of parents stood from their chairs to meet with the teacher. I was finally free! Almost wanting to skip, I went back to the classroom to collect my children and head home.
Please let me know if you liked it – final chapter coming soon.