Title: Indulgence
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Rose/Scorpius, Ron/Hermione, I suppose...
Rating: PG
Summary: Sometimes, the easiest thing a parent can do is give in. Sometimes, that's also the hardest thing.
"But, Mum..." Rose whined, following her mother into the house. Hermione Granger-Weasley hung her purse on the coatrack, rolling her eyes at her child's petulant whinging.
"Absolutely not, Rose. I'm sorry." She shook her head. " Forty pounds is a ridiculous amount of money to spend on trainers."
"You don't understand!"
"No. I really don't." Hermione conceded, albeit not in a way that encouraged further debate. She made her way into the kitchen and began making herself a cup of tea.
"They're brilliant." Rose slumped into a kitchen chair, taking an apple from the bowl in the middle of the table. She crunched dejectedly. "They have the Chelsea logo on them and everything..."
"Football. Honestly." Hermione rolled her eyes again. "If it's not quidditch, it's football."
"I can't help that they're brilliant games, Mum. It's just the way it is."
"That's as may be, Rose, but I am certainly not going to put this family into the poorhouse so that you can wear trainers that proclaim your football loyalties to the world."
"And I'm overdramatic? Honestly, pounds would hardly put us into poverty. " Rose sighed in the world-weary way that only fourteen-year-old girls seem to possess and stood up from her chair. "Since you refuse to see reason, I'm going to go and answer an owl."
"Have fun." Hermione sat down at the table with her tea and a book. She began to read, obviously not planning to lose any sleep over the lack of Chelsea FC trainers in her house.
"Rosie? Come in here, please."
Rose had been almost into her room when her father's voice came from his office. She obeyed, dreading the lecture on minding her Mum that was surely to come from him.
"Hi, Dad."
"Hullo." Ron Weasley smiled at his oldest child. "Trainers, is it?"
"They're brilliant, Dad!" Rose tried to explain the significance of these shoes yet again. "They are limited edition, and they have the Chelsea logo on them! I want them so badly. They'd be wicked for match days, and for wearing around."
"I see." Ron leaned back in his chair, picking up the queen-side bishop from the chess set that always sat on the right-hand corner of his desk.
"Mum is just being unreasonable." Rose dropped into one of the room's other chairs, sighing.
"Is she, now?" Ron raised an eyebrow. "And how much are these wicked, brilliant trainers?"
"Forty quid." Rose admitted, knowing full well that it really was a lot of money.
"That is fairly expensive, love."
"I know." She sighed. There went the shoes. Dad would have been her only hope of getting them. He, at least, understood how important team spirit was. Even now, the walls of his office were adorned with Cannons memorobilia as well as his Gryffindor house penant, and quidditch jersey.
"You want them badly, do you?" He put the bishop back down.
"Yeah. I do. But, Mum said no." Rose offered. She wasn't sure why she told him that, but she felt as though she ought to.
"I heard." He nodded, but reached into his desk drawer and took out the wallet that he kept his muggle money in.
"Dad, you can't! She'll be really mad." Rose shook her head. As much as she wanted the shoes, she didn't want to start trouble with her parents.
"You let me worry about your Mum. She'll get over it." Ron shrugged. "I work very hard, Rosie. So does your mother. We both save and put money away, and we both went without a lot of stuff we wanted when we were younger so that we could prepare for every contingency once you kids came along." He smiled. "I see no reason why some of that 'contingency' money can't pay for trainers that are so brilliant that you're willing to fight for them like that."
"Are you serious?"
Ron nodded, and took a few bills from his wallet.
"If I come up with thirty, do you think you've got ten to spare?"
"Absolutely!" Rose lept up from the table and took the money. "I can do that."
"Well, there you go, then." He smiled. "Rosie, there's nothing I won't do for you. You know that. Hell, I'll even go toe-to-toe with your Mum if I have to."
Rose grinned wildly as she tucked the money into the pocket of her denims.
"Oh, please. You like fighting with Mum."
"True."
"You two are seriously disturbed." Rose turned to leave the office.
"I don't even get a hug for that?" Ron asked, feigning hurt. "I'm going off to my death, after all. The least my daughter could do is hug me."
Rose turned, crossing the room again to throw her arms around her father's neck.
"Thank you, Daddy. Really. I'll take good care of them. I promise."
"You had bloody well better." Ron called after her as she fled the room, ostensibly heading back to the High Street to get the shoes.
He'd be in trouble, that much he knew, but they were only trainers. He saw no reason she shouldn't have them. She was a good kid.
Besides, when push came to shove, Ron didn't really have it in him to deny his daughter anything that she really wanted. It made him too happy to make her happy.
Five years later, when Scorpius Malfoy asked him for his permission to propose to his only daughter, Ron had to remind himself of this fact.
And somehow, even though it felt, somehow, as though he was, once again, going off to his death, he managed to say yes.