ʻRose! Dinnerʼs ready,ʼ shouted Hermione upstairs.
Far above, something thudded to the floor and seconds later a door could be heard forcefully thrown open up on the fifth floor.
Hermione sighed as something extremely orange dashed into view and sprinted to the kitchen table.
ʻThereʼs no need to wear Quidditch robes in the house,ʼ Hermione pointed out.
ʻI am a fan,ʼ said Rose wisely as she sat down. ʻAnd true fans never part with their team. So I keep my fingers crossed.ʼ
ʻMy education,ʼ said Ron proudly. ʻSprouts, Rosie?ʼ
While Ron loaded Roseʼs plate, Hermione sat down next to Hugo who hardly managed to sit upright in his chair. But as Hermione always dreaded that a Quidditch match would last several days she was glad that the Arrows had managed to catch the Snitch after about two hours, so Hugo had only felt the exhaustion when he was safely home again.
ʻHow did it go?ʼ asked Mr Weasley before Ron could start an attack on his own plate.
ʻThree-hundred and thirty to forty,ʼ answered Rose instead, her mouth full of sprouts. ʻBut next time weʼll win.ʼ
ʻWeʼve got a new Beater, that takes its time until they work seamlessly as a team,ʼ said Ron.
ʻThat Portuguese from Braga?ʼ asked Mr Weasley.
ʻHeʼs not from Braga,ʼ said Ron sadly. ʻBut yes, that one.ʼ
ʻHeʼll develop well,ʼ Rose added cheerfully.
Hermione caught Mrs Weasleyʼs eyes and winked, both more than used to the endless Quidditch talks.
ʻNo problems at the Ministry?ʼ Mrs Weasley asked.
ʻThere are always problems,ʼ said Hermione. ʻBut no big problems, no. We had the fiftieth house-elf at the House-elf Help Desk, but he only wanted to prevent a raise of his salary.ʼ
ʻFrom any known family?ʼ asked Mr Weasley over the table.
ʻPritchard. I donʼt know them. Do you?ʼ
Mr Weasley shook his head, starting with his roast potatoes.
ʻWe donʼt need a house-elf,ʼ said Rose proudly, ʻbecause weʼve got Grandma.ʼ
ʻRose!ʼ said Hermione, but Mrs Weasley laughed.
ʻMay I have a salary increase?ʼ
ʻThe Malfoyʼs house-elf seemed also content with her position,ʼ added Hermione. ʻThe house-elf situation has witnessed a massive increase in the last few years. And who initiated S.P.E.W.?ʼ
Ron filled pumpkin juice in Roseʼs glass with ostentatious ceremony.
ʻThe Ministryʼs been at the Malfoyʼs today?ʼ asked Mr Weasley. ʻWas it as bad as suspected?ʼ
ʻYou mean the objects Lucius Malfoy left?ʼ clarified Hermione. ʻYes, there was quite some freaky stuff, even a half-living potion I couldnʼt identify. I confiscated it all temporarily, but I suppose we can hand back the largest part.ʼ
ʻWhy?ʼ asked Ron as aggressively as he could with a mouth full of sprouts. He swallowed hastily under the quelling looks of his mother and wife. ʻWhy should Malfoy get anything back?ʼ
ʻItʼs his inheritance. Heʼs-ʼ
ʻYeah, he inherited a lot from Lucius Malfoy,ʼ said Ron. ʻHermione, when you said - about the house-elf - at the Malfoyʼs - youʼre not going to tell me that you went there?ʼ
ʻYes, I went there.ʼ
ʻBut...ʼ stammered Ron with eyes full of horror. ʻHermione... at the Malfoyʼs... wasnʼt it...ʼ
ʻYes, I felt like that at first,ʼ said Hermione, smiling at her husband. ʻBut in the end I was glad I went there.ʼ
ʻI hate them,ʼ said Rose firmly.
ʻRose!ʼ said Hermione.
ʻI know all about them, Mum,ʼ said Rose with dignity. ʻI will never forgive someone who has insulted you. I hate them from the bottom of my heart in your honour.ʼ
ʻNow, Rose, thatʼs dear of you, but-ʼ
Hugoʼs increasingly lopsided position made him drop from the chair just then.
Hermione bent down to take him up though he didnʼt seem to mind continuing his slumber on the kitchen floor.
ʻYouʼd better go to bed, donʼt you?ʼ she muttered.
ʻLet me take him upstairs,ʼ said Mrs Weasley. ʻYou have just returned from work, you must be tired yourself.ʼ
ʻThank you,ʼ said Hermione, giving her son a kiss, before handing him over to his grandmother. Mrs Weasley turned and carried him upstairs, safely cradled in her arms.
Hermione sat down again and started on her roast potatoes, chewing and considering a sudden idea while Ron, Rose and Mr Weasley resumed their discussion about the chances of the Chudley Cannons this season.
Just as Ron was complaining about Ginnyʼs neutrality when reporting Quidditch matches, Mrs Weasley came down the stairs again and retook her seat. Hermione finished her meal in silence, before she sought Ronʼs gaze.
ʻProbably we could invite them,ʼ Hermione suggested when she was sure of having caught Ronʼs attention.
ʻInvite whom?ʼ asked Ron blandly.
Hermione breathed deeply, preparing her answer. ʻThe Malfoys.ʼ
ʻWhat?ʼ said Ron, Rose and Mr Weasley in unison.
Hermione looked over to Mrs Weasley who frowned.
ʻHermione,ʼ she said tentatively, ʻremember what background they have. How could we receive them here?ʼ
ʻI do believe their backgroundʼs not as it was-ʼ started Hermione.
ʻNo, dear,ʼ interrupted Mrs Weasley. ʻYou got me wrong. I didnʼt mean any... ideological differences, but simply... think about the monetary gulf between us. They are used to a luxury we cannot compete with and, to be sincere, I donʼt want to compete with.ʼ
Hermione nodded, admitting to herself that this aspect would never have crossed her mind. It did seem trivial to her, but she had learnt to trust Mrs Weasleyʼs judgement in social matters.
ʻNever mind their wealth,ʼ said Ron. ʻYou cannot suggest to let Malfoy, Malfoy, enter our house. Think what heʼs done to you.ʼ
ʻDadʼs right,ʼ seconded Rose. ʻThere are some insults that are unforgivable.ʼ
ʻIs it not the insulted party who decides whatʼs unforgivable?ʼ Hermione asked her daughter, but Rose didnʼt show any concern. Hermione turned to Ron again. ʻMalfoy hasnʼt done anything to me for over fifteen years. How pettish would it be not to forgive after such a long time.ʼ
ʻThis is not about forgiveness,ʼ said Ron. ʻYou may forgive whomsoever you like. But to forgive is not to forget and it is most certainly not to turn into best friends.ʼ
ʻI wasnʼt talking about being best friends. I just thought it might be a nice gesture. Dracoʼs invited me to dinner today.ʼ
Ron stared at her for a moment before he could answer. ʻYou didnʼt accept though.ʼ
ʻHow could I!ʼ said Hermione. ʻI needed to go back to the Ministry. But Iʼm not talking about inviting the Malfoys to dinner. I didnʼt have the impression that Astoria would have strength enough. I-ʼ
ʻAstoria!ʼ exclaimed Ron. ʻDraco! Since when are you on such friendly terms!ʼ
ʻSince today,ʼ said Hermione calmly. ʻAstoria introduced herself as Astoria, so how silly would I be to call her Mrs Malfoy. And as I was saying, we could invite them for tea. In summer, in the outside, probably when we invite some neighbours. So it wouldnʼt seem formal or anything...ʼ
ʻHermione,ʼ said Ron with raised eyebrows. ʻYou want something not formal and expect Malfoy to fit in among our normal, good-humoured neighbours-ʼ
ʻAnd little Scorpius could play with Rose. And we-ʼ
ʻI would never do that!ʼ exclaimed Rose defiantly. ʻHow can you expect me to betray you so!ʼ
ʻNow Rose,ʼ said Hermione calmly, internally cursing Ronʼs zealous education, ʻI understand that you canʼt like the father because he insulted me many years ago. But thatʼs no reason to be prejudiced against the son-ʼ
ʻHow could the son be any different than the father?ʼ shouted Rose. ʻAm I not like you and Dad? So I make my friends among my parentsʼ friends for this is where I belong.ʼ
ʻRose-ʼ said Hermione soothingly, but her daughter broke into tears.
ʻI defend you,ʼ she sobbed. ʻBut you want me to fraternise with the enemy. Why do you want to alienate us?ʼ
She kicked her chair back and ran out of the kitchen, making a lot of noise on her way upstairs.
Hermione got half out of her chair, but sank back again.
ʻWhere does she get that temper from?ʼ she muttered.
ʻI plead not guilty,ʼ said Ron cheerfully, loading his plate anew.
ʻIʼll go up to her in a few minutes,ʼ sighed Hermione. ʻBut donʼt you think it would be polite to invite them?ʼ
Ron exchanged a critical glance with his father.
ʻTo be honest,ʼ said Mr Weasley, ʻI donʼt like the idea.ʼ
ʻI was primarily thinking of the boy,ʼ clarified Hermione. ʻHe seems to be very lonely and yet such a lovable child.ʼ
ʻYou heard Rose,ʼ said Ron. ʻSheʼd consider it as treachery towards you.ʼ
ʻYou seem to have instilled some strange principles in her,ʼ snapped Hermione.
ʻI didnʼt!ʼ said Ron defensively. ʻRose asks many questions. About how we fell in love - I told her how I once vomited slugs for you. And when she asks about the wizarding wars and the Muggle-borns... I just told her about our past and Rose is being consequent.ʼ
Hermione sighed. ʻIt might be not a bad starting point. Sheʼll learn soon enough that the world is more complex. Why is nothing ever simple?ʼ
ʻYou think too much,ʼ said Ron as soon as he had swallowed his roast potatoes. ʻJust enjoy the moment and donʼt try to save the world. Malfoy can bring up his children as he likes. And Rose is clever enough to recognize good qualities when she comes across them. So, if they have to become friends, thereʼs still time enough at Hogwarts.ʼ
ʻIsnʼt Hannah Abbott in contact with them?ʼ asked Mrs Weasley. ʻProbably you could organize something at the Leaky Cauldron?ʼ
ʻThatʼs a thought,ʼ said Hermione slowly. ʻThe Malfoys have become almost phantoms, you hardly see them anymore.ʼ
ʻApart from the gossip in the Prophet,ʼ chuckled Ron.
ʻThatʼs not funny,ʼ said Hermione sharply. ʻImagine how the boy must suffer from it.ʼ
ʻHeʼs about Roseʼs age,ʼ said Mrs Weasley. ʻHe canʼt know much about it.ʼ
ʻO yes, he can,ʼ said Hermione. ʻHeʼs reading the paper and heʼs smart enough to understand what they write. He reads a lot-ʼ
ʻHang on,ʼ said Ron. ʻHe reads a lot? Hermione, have you ever considered the possibility... donʼt you think that... Malfoy might have constructed this to gain your sympathies?ʼ
Hermione stared at Ron. ʻI beg your pardon?ʼ
ʻHermione, you read a lot,ʼ said Ron. ʻMalfoy presents you with a son who reads a lot. Donʼt forget, he wants something from you, or rather from the Ministry you represent. Can you put it beyond him that he isnʼt manipulating you?ʼ
Hermione swallowed down an angry retort and leant back. Closing her eyes she recalled the details of her visit, the expected and the unexpected meetings. She tried to remember every gesture and judge the sincerity it contained. After a long while she shook her head. Her recollection and her instinct approved of her former judgement. No matter how she applied Ronʼs thesis, it sounded like a conspiracy theory.
ʻScorpius is no manipulator,ʼ she said firmly, getting on her feet. ʻI check on Rose now. You get along without me?ʼ
ʻOf course,ʼ said Mrs Weasley. ʻYou better look after Rose before she feels even more neglected. I donʼt want her having a groaning competition with the ghoul again.ʼ
Hermione quickly left the kitchen and walked through the passageway to the staircase. Familiar with the staircaseʼs eccentricities, Hermione hurried up to the fifth flight to a painfully bright orange door with two fat black Cs on it.
Hermione knocked.
There came no sound.
Hermione knocked again.
Nothing.
ʻRose?ʼ asked Hermione softly, trying to open the door. Up in the attic the ghoul started to bang on the pipes.
ʻRose?ʼ said Hermione loudly, ʻcan I come in?ʼ
The ghoul banged louder.
ʻRose, I open your door now,ʼ shouted Hermione over the noise, drawing her wand.
ʻGo away!ʼ Rose shouted back.
Hermione smiled to herself, tapping her wand against the door. The lock clicked.
ʻRose?ʼ said Hermione, gently pushing open the door.
As always she had to blink because of the orange overkill. Her daughter, apart from the ginger hair the body perfectly blending in with the orange bedspread, glared at her before she rolled to the side to face the window. Hermione carefully walked over the comics, miniature broomsticks, knitting needles and chess figures on the floor and sat down on the edge of the bed next to Rose. Softly, she laid a hand on her shoulder.
ʻAre you all right?ʼ
ʻYouʼre stupid,ʼ mumbled Rose and shook her hand off, burying her face in the pillow.
ʻAre you still hungry?ʼ asked Hermione, needing to raise her voice to drown the increasingly loud ghoul. ʻDonʼt you want some pudding?ʼ
ʻGo away,ʼ grumbled Rose from the pillow.
ʻWhy are you angry with me?ʼ
ʻYou donʼt like me,ʼ sounded Roseʼs muted voice.
ʻI?ʼ asked Hermione. ʻDonʼt like you? What a strange creature would I be not to like my daughter.ʼ
ʻYou see? You donʼt even deny it!ʼ
ʻOf course I deny it. I love you more than any words in a human language could ever say. Thereʼs nothing I wouldnʼt do for you.ʼ
Rose - probably to look at her mother or from simple want of air - turned on her back and looked up at Hermione. ʻWhy didnʼt you want me to defend you then?ʼ she asked sulkily.
ʻBecause I didnʼt need defending,ʼ said Hermione, ʻthough of course I am very touched by your ardour for my cause. But we are at home where everybody is our friend. We shouldnʼt live in the past - especially when one is as young as you are. Youʼve got all the future of the world.ʼ
Rose looked up at her mother with a frown. ʻOur future is made of our past.ʼ
ʻThatʼs true,ʼ said Hermione. ʻBut our past is such a complex building, made of so many different elements and decisions, and chance has so much to say that it is the present we have primarily to worry about. Especially as that present will one day be the past and is therefore - following your logic - condemned to make a future. And that it will be a good future, that we can try to influence by what we do in the present - not in the past.ʼ
ʻBut Mum,ʼ said Rose, ʻwhen we have learnt from the past that someone is a mean person, we should remember this in the present.ʼ
ʻAnd yet, we should keep in mind that, though he was mean in the past, he doesnʼt automatically have to be mean in the present or future.ʼ
ʻBut Dad told me all about him,ʼ protested Rose, finally raising her voice too to get over the ghoulʼs noise. ʻHe said the... the... M-word to you.ʼ She whispered the last part of her sentence, her words only guessable by lip-reading.
ʻHe did so many, many years ago,ʼ said Hermione. ʻI canʼt judge a grown man by what he said when he was little older than you are.ʼ
ʻBut...ʼ said Rose, her voice still low though the ghoul did everything to be loud. She sat up and threw her arms around her mother to speak in her ear. ʻThere are rumours. I know from Dad. He sometimes reads them aloud in the paper. Well, Dad always treats it as a joke, but then... heʼs Dad. So I was thinking, what if itʼs true? And if it is, arenʼt you in grave danger? What would we do if something happened to you? I... Iʼm scared.ʼ
Hermione hugged her daughter and rocked her in her arms. ʻDonʼt be afraid,ʼ she murmured, with some regret deciding to leave the Malfoys unmentioned for the time being. ʻThereʼs nothing to be afraid of. Though your Dad does lack in seriousness, he doesnʼt lack in judgement. We are safe.ʼ
ʻYou really think so?ʼ
ʻReally, really.ʼ
A/N This is all concerning this story. Iʼve written more about Draco and Astoria and hope that Iʼll get to upload it all. I might also write some pieces concerning Scorpiusʼs childhood, Iʼ ve got a couple of ideas. I hope you liked this little addition. Many thanks for reading to all of you!