Fic: Your Friend Always, Scorpius
Title: Your Friend Always, Scorpius
Author: gingeraled
Gift For: realmer06
Summary: Scorpius needs all the courage he can muster for his "talk" with Mr. Ron Weasley.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: This is image heavy and would be really hard to view if you are on dial up. Otherwise, I warn for fluff and nothing more. :)
Word Count: 3,338
Author's/Artist's notes: The recipient asked for "Ron finding out that Rose and Scorpius are going out and/or engaged, with flashbacks of how Rose and Scorpius got together," a confrontation scene between Ron and Draco, and a more human(e) Scorpius. I hope I managed to fit all of those in! Also, this is a semi-epistolary story (is there such a thing?!) that goes back and forth in time. So please pay attention to the dates at the top of each section. :)
HUGE thanks to my betas, S and G. :D
Ronald Weasley let out a huge sigh when he finished reading the note. He supposed he should have seen this coming, with Scorpius and Rosie being friends since their first year of Hogwarts. And they’d been dating, dating, for a little over a year! His darling baby girl (who was not really a baby at all, but a twenty-four-year-old woman) had been dating a Malfoy for almost a year! Lucius Malfoy must have been turning in his grave all that time.
But even with his poncy handwriting, this particular Malfoy might actually have been just a little bit good for his daughter, Ron thought. Although he would never ever in his life admit that to anyone else, especially Hermione. And no one would ever truly be good enough for his darling baby girl (who was not really a baby at all, Ron had to remind himself). Scorpius, who was sharp and driven, gave Rose, who had inherited her fair share of Ron’s aimlessness, a sense of direction and even purpose. Ron saw that and liked it. Even if only just.
Hermione knew it from Day One and she liked to berate Ron about his prejudices, so an admission of approval would only send Hermione into an endless litany of I-told-you-sos.
More importantly, an admission would only give that smug prat Draco Malfoy more reasons to brag that any Malfoy was more than ‘good enough’ for any Weasley! And even if they had resolved, grudgingly, most of their conflicts long ago, Ron still hated the pointy git and enjoyed that the git hated him back.
But back to tomorrow. A meeting with Scorpius. The boy had asked to talk to him.
Ron summoned a piece of parchment and scribbled his reply.
--
August 4, 2023, 3:40 p.m., at a small flat in the side streets of Diagon Alley
“Albus.”
“Yeah?” Albus Potter was apparently more interested in sprawling on his bed and reading a book than listening to his best friend.
“I’m doing it.”
“What?” was the perfunctory reply.
“I wrote a note to your uncle. He’s meeting me tomorrow afternoon.”
Albus spluttered and let go of his book. “What did you say? You wrote to my uncle? Which uncle, for starters?”
“Rose’s dad, you imbecile,” Scorpius exclaimed. “Why would I want to talk to your other uncles?”
“And,” Scorpius mumbled, “I asked for an audience.”
Albus raised an eyebrow at his friend. “Well, how should I know? But ‘an audience’! That’s hilarious! What did he say?”
“He said I have poncy handwriting just like my dad’s.”
Albus’s face lit up as he grabbed the piece of parchment Scorpius was holding. “Is that his reply? Let me-” he barked out a laugh. “Uncle Ron is the best!”
“Shut up!” Scorpius muttered.
“But you do have poncy handwriting!”
“Albus, I need your help!” Scorpius pleaded. “You can laugh at me all you want later, but for now... This is very important and will determine eternal happiness or doom for me!”
“Oh, stop being melodramatic. Just keep your cool tomorrow and you’ll be all right.”
“Keep my cool.”
“Yeah. And remember to actually speak.”
“I won’t forget.”
“And whatever you do, don’t wet your pants!”
Albus was not Seeker-fast like his father, but he managed to duck the flying pillow well enough.
--
--
August 5, 2023, 7:44 a.m., at the Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire
Astoria Malfoy liked to wake up early, even on Saturdays, because to her, mornings were the best part of the day. Early mornings were a time she felt at total peace; she would start them by shifting to gaze at the man sleeping beside her. She would drop a kiss on his cheek, rise to take a shower, and proceed to the dining room to instruct the house-elves on duties for the rest of the day. After breakfast, Astoria would retire to her parlour and keep up with her correspondences. Draco usually kept her company during weekends.
That particular morning, Scorpius found her in the parlour.
“Mother?”
Astoria’s eyes widened at the sight of her son, who’d been so hard to get hold of in the past weeks. “Scorpius? What a wonderful surprise! What brings you here, darling?”
Scorpius took a deep breath as he entered his mother’s parlour. Astoria took a good look at her son, who was an exact replica of her husband from platinum blond hair to pale skin to cool, grey eyes. Only, Scorpius wasn’t as self-assured and haughty as Draco could get.
“Hi, Mother.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Where is Father?”
“He just stepped outside for a moment but will be back shortly. What is it you need, my little star?”
“Mother,” Scorpius whinged, “Don’t call me that!”
“Yes, Astoria, stop calling him that.” Draco Malfoy entered, regal even in his pyjamas and house slippers. “It wouldn’t be good publicity that the future Minister for Magic is called ‘My Little Star’ by his mother.”
Scorpius rolled his eyes. His father harboured an intermittent fantasy about him becoming the youngest Minister of Magic in a century. “Good morning, Father.”
“What brings you to the Manor, Son?”
“Important news.”
“It really must be important,” Draco drawled, “for you to even grace us with your presence! It’s been weeks since you last showed your face. Your mother has been worrying.
The elder Malfoy huffed and sat down, opening a copy of the Daily Prophet for dramatic effect.
Astoria tutted gently. “Must you be bitter about it, Draco?” She turned to her son. “Scorpius, we’ve just missed you. Your hard work is no doubt valued, but you shouldn’t risk losing your health over it. You look extra troubled today.”
Indeed, Astoria thought, Scorpius was looking pale, but not in the way caused by bad health. Her son looked pale out of… fear and apprehension.
“No,no-work is fine. I’m not worried about work; that’s not why I’m here. Mother, Father ...”
Draco put his newspaper down. Astoria shifted in her seat and focused her eyes on her son.
“It’s Rose.”
“Yes, of course! How is the darling-”
“Astoria!” Draco tossed his newspaper aside. “Let the boy speak!”
Scorpius cleared his throat. “As I was saying. It’s about Rose. You know we both love each other very much and that I’m quite serious about her.”
“This is the daughter of Granger and that insufferable Weasley. The Gryffindor, am I correct?”
Scorpius rolled his eyes. “Father, you’ve met her plenty of times; we’ve been friends for ages. And I’ve written to you about her, about us.”
“Keep rolling your eyes and they might get stuck that way. And what is it about her?”
“What I’m saying is… is… Well, I’ve arranged to meet with her father this afternoon.”
Astoria’s face brightened. This was important news indeed, more so because her son looked exactly the same way Draco had when he first approached her with the news that he had grown to love her.
--
--
August 4, 2023, 11:27 a.m., at the small flat above Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes
Rose Weasley burrowed deeper under the covers to get away from the morning sun trying to wake her up. Her subconscious knew it was a Saturday, and the height of the sun notwithstanding, she deserved another five minutes in bed and did not have to rush to her desk at the Daily Prophet. She let out a heavy sigh as she remembered the previous night, which she spent wrapped up in a certain Scorpius Malfoy.
The two of them had been on the lumpy couch in her apartment, her head on Scorpius’s lap. He was toying with her curly red hair while she tried to finish the latest romance/mystery/thriller novel from up and coming author Stella Mooreshank. Since Scorpius only ever played with her hair only when he was lost in thought about something important, Rose could hardly quell the desire to pry him away from his contemplation.
Rose had stealthily put her book down, crawled into Scorpius’s lap, and kissed him - deep and long, meaningful kisses, of the sort found in the romance/mystery/thriller novel. Scorpius had seemed stunned at first but quickly joined in, melting into her kisses, tracing her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. He had speared his hands into her hair and pulled her even tighter to himself, making Rose feel that he wanted to slide into her skin and possess her.
They’d ended up in a tangled heap on the couch, her head thrown back in passion as Scorpius placed kisses on her neck and ground his hips against hers. He was chanting mine, mine, mine onto her skin, and it made her want to claim him as well. Just as she was trying to take off his shirt, however, Scorpius pulled away abruptly.
“Not tonight, Rose,” he’d whispered.
Why the hell not? she wanted to scream at him. She had been so aroused, in need of his physical attention, that the abrupt end to their snogging felt almost painful, but she’d seen an equally pained and serious look in Scorpius’s face that silenced all her protestations.
“Is there a problem? You know you can tell me.”
“It’s not a problem,” Scorpius said, “but... we’ll talk about it tomorrow.” Scorpius then placed a chaste peck on her lips and promptly Disapparated.
Rose hugged her pillow tighter. It still periodically surprised her, how easily she and Scorpius transitioned from best friends into lovers. It seemed like all it took for them to venture into relationship territory was a simple admission from Scorpius that he had more than friendly feelings for her.
Because if she were perfectly honest, Scorpius had never been ‘just a friend’ to her. He was the first boy who made her blush, the first boy she’d ever daydreamed about, the first boy she’d ever wanted to kiss. But he was her best friend, and when she was younger, that meant that he was off-limits beyond fantasies.
And then, they grew up.
Rose emerged from under the covers and groped around her dresser for the note Scorpius sent her just minutes after he left the previous night.
The letter caused a flush to spread all over Rose’s body. She checked her clock. Dinner was still half a day away, which meant she had more than enough time to do some imagining herself.
--
August 5, 2023, 1:02 p.m., at the other Weasley residence in Ottery St. Catchpole
Hermione Weasley loved watching her husband move about the house-their house. Ron looked perfectly at peace in the small home they built together, happy that he had his own family, satisfied that he was able to provide for his children, fulfilled that they had brought up Rose and Hugo well.
They had just finished an early lunch, and she’d curled up on a chair with a book on her lap. Normally, her husband would lay his head on her lap and laze the day away with her, but this time, Hermione sensed heaps of tension from Ron as he paced about the house.
“Ron, what’s got you so upset?”
Hermione received only a grunt in reply. Ron continued to pace.
“You’re driving me mad with all the pacing!”
“Hermione! Just let me be for a moment!” Ron turned to his wife. His face was extra pale, his forehead scrunched in concentration. “There’s a… a situation I need to take care of!”
“Situation!” Hermione sat up, set the book down, and moved towards where her husband was pacing. “What happened? Something from work? Another set of Neo-Death Eaters?”
“Aw, Hermione, nothing like that.” Ron drew his wife into a hug and buried his face in her mass of curls. “It’s just... Scorpius. He’s asked to meet with me. In about an hour.”
Hermione pulled away enough to look into her husband’s eyes. “Scorpius asked to meet with you?”
“That’s what I said!” Ron pulled her back into the embrace.
There was nothing to be done but to stroke her husband’s back and make him feel better. Hermione made cooing and shushing sounds, assuring Ron that everything would be okay.
“Everything’s not going to be okay,” Ron said indignantly. “Rosie’s my baby!”
Hermione sighed. “She’s my baby, too, you know.”
Ron let out a moan. “Oh, yeah, but that’s different, innit?”
Hermione had little desire to argue against her husband’s point. “Do you want me to come with you?”
“No.” Ron pulled away quickly. “That boy and I, we’re having a man-to-man talk. I think you should stay out of it.”
What was there to say to that? Hermione smirked inwardly as her husband raced up their stairs, presumably to prepare for the man-to-man talk.
--
August 5, 2023, 1:40 p.m., at Fortescue’s ice cream shop in Diagon Alley
It was hard work, but Scorpius had managed to force himself to sit and wait patiently for Rose’s father to arrive. Rose’s father. Auror Weasley. Sir. Mister Ronald Weasley. Mister Weasley. Scorpius sighed … he still had no idea how to address Rose’s father.
And in fifteen minutes, he would be here, and Scorpius’s fate would be decided.
Scorpius let his eyes wander around the shop. It was a bit anticlimactic for Rose’s father to choose Fortescue’s ice cream shop as their meeting place, knowing full well what they were about to discuss. He’d half-expected to be challenged to a duel in the middle of Diagon Alley. Well, Scorpius hadn’t really spelled out the reason he wanted to meet up, but he was certain Rose’s father had a pretty clear idea.
Rose’s father had always been an enigma to Scorpius. Even before he and Rose had started dating, it seemed that Auror Weasley … Mister Weasley … Sir, never quite liked him. Of course, it could be because he was a Malfoy and because his Father continued to antagonise Rose’s father from time to time. Still, Scorpius had a feeling the dislike was because of some other reason.
He’d always felt like Rose’s father could see right through him. He would always look at him differently, as if he was just waiting for Scorpius to snatch Rose from away from him. Scorpius had a feeling that Rose’s father had known from the very beginning, probably even before he himself realised it, that Scorpius fancied his daughter.
“Mister Malfoy. Scorpius.”
Auror Ronald Weasley slid into the booth in front of him, startling Scorpius from his reverie. Only the table between them prevented him from jumping up and executing a well-practiced Malfoy bow. “Sir!”
“Scorpius. Call me Ron.”
“Sir… Ron?”
“Ron. Just Ron. We’re here to talk about something, yeah? Have you ordered?”
“Yes, we are here to talk. And no, I haven’t ordered. What would you like, Sir… Ron? On me.” Scorpius gestured for the waiter to approach them.
Ron Weasley smirked at him. “A chocolate sundae with a double serving of chocolate shavings, and sprinkles, please.”
“And I’ll have one scoop of vanilla ice cream, please,” Scorpius told the waiter.
An odd silence descended upon the pair. Scorpius used it to collect himself and his thoughts and to observe Rose’s father across from him. In all those years, the two of them had never shared more than a sentence or two. Mister Weasley… Ron, would usually only grunt to acknowledge his presence or give him a polite hello if prodded by Rose’s mum. This whole conversation thing was discomfiting.
Their ice cream arrived, and they both dug in.
“So,” Ron said after swallowing a huge spoonful of his sundae. “You wanted to talk about something.”
Scorpius took a deep breath. “Better to be out with it, then. Sir. Ron. I asked you to meet with me so… so… I can ask you for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”
Ron sighed and his head bowed a little. “Just as I thought.”
Scorpius sighed as well but soldiered on.
“Sir. Ron. I love your daughter with my whole heart. And I think I’ve loved her even before I knew what love was. I want to spend the rest of my life with her, build a family with her, and make her happy every second of every day.”
“What does your father have to say about all this?” Ron asked, as if he hadn’t heard a line of Scorpius’s well-rehearsed speech. His blue eyes were trained on Scorpius’s gray ones, as if daring the younger man to tell a lie.
A frown marred Scorpius’s brow. “My parents gave me their blessing just this morning.”
“Your father, Draco Malfoy, gave you, his only son, his blessing to marry a Weasley?”
Scorpius straightened his back. He’d prepared for this line of questioning as well. “My father gave me his blessing to marry Rose Weasley, Sir … Ron. Not just any Weasley. He’s known Rose ever since we were little, and he respects her very much. Father and Mother know that your daughter is my best friend and the only girl I’ve ever loved, and the only girl I will ever love.”
“She’s too good for you,” Ron said abruptly.
Scorpius looked out the window. “I know.”
Both men turned their concentration to their ice cream. Scorpius had no way of knowing what was going through the other man’s head, but he had an inkling it wasn’t very complimentary to him. He had to admit that he expected a bit of sympathy from Rose’s father-given that he also pined for Rose’s mum, who was his best friend before they got together nearly a decade into their friendship-but it seemed no sympathy was forthcoming.
Finished with his ice cream, Scorpius placed a hand in his coat pocket and fished out a box, placing it at the centre of the table.
“Ron.”
Ron raised his head and eyed Scorpius, then the box.
“This is the engagement ring that I chose for Rose.” Scorpius opened the box and showed Ron a simple silver band dotted with small diamonds. “Mother wanted me to give your daughter the heirloom Malfoy engagement ring, but I figured Rose would want us to start a new history together.”
Ron remained silent but shifted the focus of his eyes from the ring to Scorpius’s face.
“You know I love your daughter. And she loves me, more than I deserve to be loved. And you’re right-I don’t deserve her. But I’m willing to spend the rest of my life proving myself worthy of her, making her smile and laugh, and giving her the best future there is. I only ask that you give me the chance.”
Scorpius heard Ron Weasley heave out a big sigh.
“Scorpius.”
“Yes?”
“I will not have my daughter being looked down upon by a bunch of aristocratic overlords.”
“Absolutely not.”
“She has five uncles, one of which is Harry Potter.”
“I’m aware of that, sir.”
Ron closed the box containing the engagement ring and pushed it towards Scorpius. “I guess I should be going now. There seems to be nothing I can say to stop you.”
“Nothing. If I have to elope with your daughter, I would do it,” Scorpius said in a small voice.
“Hey, now. Don’t push your luck,” Ron said with a tired chuckle. “There’s always a chance of my bright daughter refusing your proposal and breaking your heart.”
--
March 20, 2024, 8:44 p.m., at the gardens of Malfoy Manor
“Weasley.”
“Malfoy.”
“I suppose congratulations are in order,” Draco Malfoy drawled. Your daughter looks positively radiant in the arms of my son.”
Ron flashed an affected smile. “Yeah. Congratulations to you, too. And to your wife. The wedding stuff was… nice.”
“I hope you didn’t promise anyone that you’d try to get along with me. I still think you’re an uncouth prat. ‘Stuff,’ indeed...”
“No such promises, Malfoy. You’re nothing but a pointy git to me, after all.”
“Good. So about grandchildren…”
“First dibs on getting called ‘Pops’. I like the sound of that.”
“Weasley. You can have ‘Pops’ because I’m taking ‘Papa’.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
“Git.”
“Prat.”
Fin
Author: gingeraled
Gift For: realmer06
Summary: Scorpius needs all the courage he can muster for his "talk" with Mr. Ron Weasley.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: This is image heavy and would be really hard to view if you are on dial up. Otherwise, I warn for fluff and nothing more. :)
Word Count: 3,338
Author's/Artist's notes: The recipient asked for "Ron finding out that Rose and Scorpius are going out and/or engaged, with flashbacks of how Rose and Scorpius got together," a confrontation scene between Ron and Draco, and a more human(e) Scorpius. I hope I managed to fit all of those in! Also, this is a semi-epistolary story (is there such a thing?!) that goes back and forth in time. So please pay attention to the dates at the top of each section. :)
HUGE thanks to my betas, S and G. :D
Ronald Weasley let out a huge sigh when he finished reading the note. He supposed he should have seen this coming, with Scorpius and Rosie being friends since their first year of Hogwarts. And they’d been dating, dating, for a little over a year! His darling baby girl (who was not really a baby at all, but a twenty-four-year-old woman) had been dating a Malfoy for almost a year! Lucius Malfoy must have been turning in his grave all that time.
But even with his poncy handwriting, this particular Malfoy might actually have been just a little bit good for his daughter, Ron thought. Although he would never ever in his life admit that to anyone else, especially Hermione. And no one would ever truly be good enough for his darling baby girl (who was not really a baby at all, Ron had to remind himself). Scorpius, who was sharp and driven, gave Rose, who had inherited her fair share of Ron’s aimlessness, a sense of direction and even purpose. Ron saw that and liked it. Even if only just.
Hermione knew it from Day One and she liked to berate Ron about his prejudices, so an admission of approval would only send Hermione into an endless litany of I-told-you-sos.
More importantly, an admission would only give that smug prat Draco Malfoy more reasons to brag that any Malfoy was more than ‘good enough’ for any Weasley! And even if they had resolved, grudgingly, most of their conflicts long ago, Ron still hated the pointy git and enjoyed that the git hated him back.
But back to tomorrow. A meeting with Scorpius. The boy had asked to talk to him.
Ron summoned a piece of parchment and scribbled his reply.
--
August 4, 2023, 3:40 p.m., at a small flat in the side streets of Diagon Alley
“Albus.”
“Yeah?” Albus Potter was apparently more interested in sprawling on his bed and reading a book than listening to his best friend.
“I’m doing it.”
“What?” was the perfunctory reply.
“I wrote a note to your uncle. He’s meeting me tomorrow afternoon.”
Albus spluttered and let go of his book. “What did you say? You wrote to my uncle? Which uncle, for starters?”
“Rose’s dad, you imbecile,” Scorpius exclaimed. “Why would I want to talk to your other uncles?”
“And,” Scorpius mumbled, “I asked for an audience.”
Albus raised an eyebrow at his friend. “Well, how should I know? But ‘an audience’! That’s hilarious! What did he say?”
“He said I have poncy handwriting just like my dad’s.”
Albus’s face lit up as he grabbed the piece of parchment Scorpius was holding. “Is that his reply? Let me-” he barked out a laugh. “Uncle Ron is the best!”
“Shut up!” Scorpius muttered.
“But you do have poncy handwriting!”
“Albus, I need your help!” Scorpius pleaded. “You can laugh at me all you want later, but for now... This is very important and will determine eternal happiness or doom for me!”
“Oh, stop being melodramatic. Just keep your cool tomorrow and you’ll be all right.”
“Keep my cool.”
“Yeah. And remember to actually speak.”
“I won’t forget.”
“And whatever you do, don’t wet your pants!”
Albus was not Seeker-fast like his father, but he managed to duck the flying pillow well enough.
--
--
August 5, 2023, 7:44 a.m., at the Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire
Astoria Malfoy liked to wake up early, even on Saturdays, because to her, mornings were the best part of the day. Early mornings were a time she felt at total peace; she would start them by shifting to gaze at the man sleeping beside her. She would drop a kiss on his cheek, rise to take a shower, and proceed to the dining room to instruct the house-elves on duties for the rest of the day. After breakfast, Astoria would retire to her parlour and keep up with her correspondences. Draco usually kept her company during weekends.
That particular morning, Scorpius found her in the parlour.
“Mother?”
Astoria’s eyes widened at the sight of her son, who’d been so hard to get hold of in the past weeks. “Scorpius? What a wonderful surprise! What brings you here, darling?”
Scorpius took a deep breath as he entered his mother’s parlour. Astoria took a good look at her son, who was an exact replica of her husband from platinum blond hair to pale skin to cool, grey eyes. Only, Scorpius wasn’t as self-assured and haughty as Draco could get.
“Hi, Mother.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Where is Father?”
“He just stepped outside for a moment but will be back shortly. What is it you need, my little star?”
“Mother,” Scorpius whinged, “Don’t call me that!”
“Yes, Astoria, stop calling him that.” Draco Malfoy entered, regal even in his pyjamas and house slippers. “It wouldn’t be good publicity that the future Minister for Magic is called ‘My Little Star’ by his mother.”
Scorpius rolled his eyes. His father harboured an intermittent fantasy about him becoming the youngest Minister of Magic in a century. “Good morning, Father.”
“What brings you to the Manor, Son?”
“Important news.”
“It really must be important,” Draco drawled, “for you to even grace us with your presence! It’s been weeks since you last showed your face. Your mother has been worrying.
The elder Malfoy huffed and sat down, opening a copy of the Daily Prophet for dramatic effect.
Astoria tutted gently. “Must you be bitter about it, Draco?” She turned to her son. “Scorpius, we’ve just missed you. Your hard work is no doubt valued, but you shouldn’t risk losing your health over it. You look extra troubled today.”
Indeed, Astoria thought, Scorpius was looking pale, but not in the way caused by bad health. Her son looked pale out of… fear and apprehension.
“No,no-work is fine. I’m not worried about work; that’s not why I’m here. Mother, Father ...”
Draco put his newspaper down. Astoria shifted in her seat and focused her eyes on her son.
“It’s Rose.”
“Yes, of course! How is the darling-”
“Astoria!” Draco tossed his newspaper aside. “Let the boy speak!”
Scorpius cleared his throat. “As I was saying. It’s about Rose. You know we both love each other very much and that I’m quite serious about her.”
“This is the daughter of Granger and that insufferable Weasley. The Gryffindor, am I correct?”
Scorpius rolled his eyes. “Father, you’ve met her plenty of times; we’ve been friends for ages. And I’ve written to you about her, about us.”
“Keep rolling your eyes and they might get stuck that way. And what is it about her?”
“What I’m saying is… is… Well, I’ve arranged to meet with her father this afternoon.”
Astoria’s face brightened. This was important news indeed, more so because her son looked exactly the same way Draco had when he first approached her with the news that he had grown to love her.
--
--
August 4, 2023, 11:27 a.m., at the small flat above Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes
Rose Weasley burrowed deeper under the covers to get away from the morning sun trying to wake her up. Her subconscious knew it was a Saturday, and the height of the sun notwithstanding, she deserved another five minutes in bed and did not have to rush to her desk at the Daily Prophet. She let out a heavy sigh as she remembered the previous night, which she spent wrapped up in a certain Scorpius Malfoy.
The two of them had been on the lumpy couch in her apartment, her head on Scorpius’s lap. He was toying with her curly red hair while she tried to finish the latest romance/mystery/thriller novel from up and coming author Stella Mooreshank. Since Scorpius only ever played with her hair only when he was lost in thought about something important, Rose could hardly quell the desire to pry him away from his contemplation.
Rose had stealthily put her book down, crawled into Scorpius’s lap, and kissed him - deep and long, meaningful kisses, of the sort found in the romance/mystery/thriller novel. Scorpius had seemed stunned at first but quickly joined in, melting into her kisses, tracing her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. He had speared his hands into her hair and pulled her even tighter to himself, making Rose feel that he wanted to slide into her skin and possess her.
They’d ended up in a tangled heap on the couch, her head thrown back in passion as Scorpius placed kisses on her neck and ground his hips against hers. He was chanting mine, mine, mine onto her skin, and it made her want to claim him as well. Just as she was trying to take off his shirt, however, Scorpius pulled away abruptly.
“Not tonight, Rose,” he’d whispered.
Why the hell not? she wanted to scream at him. She had been so aroused, in need of his physical attention, that the abrupt end to their snogging felt almost painful, but she’d seen an equally pained and serious look in Scorpius’s face that silenced all her protestations.
“Is there a problem? You know you can tell me.”
“It’s not a problem,” Scorpius said, “but... we’ll talk about it tomorrow.” Scorpius then placed a chaste peck on her lips and promptly Disapparated.
Rose hugged her pillow tighter. It still periodically surprised her, how easily she and Scorpius transitioned from best friends into lovers. It seemed like all it took for them to venture into relationship territory was a simple admission from Scorpius that he had more than friendly feelings for her.
Because if she were perfectly honest, Scorpius had never been ‘just a friend’ to her. He was the first boy who made her blush, the first boy she’d ever daydreamed about, the first boy she’d ever wanted to kiss. But he was her best friend, and when she was younger, that meant that he was off-limits beyond fantasies.
And then, they grew up.
Rose emerged from under the covers and groped around her dresser for the note Scorpius sent her just minutes after he left the previous night.
The letter caused a flush to spread all over Rose’s body. She checked her clock. Dinner was still half a day away, which meant she had more than enough time to do some imagining herself.
--
August 5, 2023, 1:02 p.m., at the other Weasley residence in Ottery St. Catchpole
Hermione Weasley loved watching her husband move about the house-their house. Ron looked perfectly at peace in the small home they built together, happy that he had his own family, satisfied that he was able to provide for his children, fulfilled that they had brought up Rose and Hugo well.
They had just finished an early lunch, and she’d curled up on a chair with a book on her lap. Normally, her husband would lay his head on her lap and laze the day away with her, but this time, Hermione sensed heaps of tension from Ron as he paced about the house.
“Ron, what’s got you so upset?”
Hermione received only a grunt in reply. Ron continued to pace.
“You’re driving me mad with all the pacing!”
“Hermione! Just let me be for a moment!” Ron turned to his wife. His face was extra pale, his forehead scrunched in concentration. “There’s a… a situation I need to take care of!”
“Situation!” Hermione sat up, set the book down, and moved towards where her husband was pacing. “What happened? Something from work? Another set of Neo-Death Eaters?”
“Aw, Hermione, nothing like that.” Ron drew his wife into a hug and buried his face in her mass of curls. “It’s just... Scorpius. He’s asked to meet with me. In about an hour.”
Hermione pulled away enough to look into her husband’s eyes. “Scorpius asked to meet with you?”
“That’s what I said!” Ron pulled her back into the embrace.
There was nothing to be done but to stroke her husband’s back and make him feel better. Hermione made cooing and shushing sounds, assuring Ron that everything would be okay.
“Everything’s not going to be okay,” Ron said indignantly. “Rosie’s my baby!”
Hermione sighed. “She’s my baby, too, you know.”
Ron let out a moan. “Oh, yeah, but that’s different, innit?”
Hermione had little desire to argue against her husband’s point. “Do you want me to come with you?”
“No.” Ron pulled away quickly. “That boy and I, we’re having a man-to-man talk. I think you should stay out of it.”
What was there to say to that? Hermione smirked inwardly as her husband raced up their stairs, presumably to prepare for the man-to-man talk.
--
August 5, 2023, 1:40 p.m., at Fortescue’s ice cream shop in Diagon Alley
It was hard work, but Scorpius had managed to force himself to sit and wait patiently for Rose’s father to arrive. Rose’s father. Auror Weasley. Sir. Mister Ronald Weasley. Mister Weasley. Scorpius sighed … he still had no idea how to address Rose’s father.
And in fifteen minutes, he would be here, and Scorpius’s fate would be decided.
Scorpius let his eyes wander around the shop. It was a bit anticlimactic for Rose’s father to choose Fortescue’s ice cream shop as their meeting place, knowing full well what they were about to discuss. He’d half-expected to be challenged to a duel in the middle of Diagon Alley. Well, Scorpius hadn’t really spelled out the reason he wanted to meet up, but he was certain Rose’s father had a pretty clear idea.
Rose’s father had always been an enigma to Scorpius. Even before he and Rose had started dating, it seemed that Auror Weasley … Mister Weasley … Sir, never quite liked him. Of course, it could be because he was a Malfoy and because his Father continued to antagonise Rose’s father from time to time. Still, Scorpius had a feeling the dislike was because of some other reason.
He’d always felt like Rose’s father could see right through him. He would always look at him differently, as if he was just waiting for Scorpius to snatch Rose from away from him. Scorpius had a feeling that Rose’s father had known from the very beginning, probably even before he himself realised it, that Scorpius fancied his daughter.
“Mister Malfoy. Scorpius.”
Auror Ronald Weasley slid into the booth in front of him, startling Scorpius from his reverie. Only the table between them prevented him from jumping up and executing a well-practiced Malfoy bow. “Sir!”
“Scorpius. Call me Ron.”
“Sir… Ron?”
“Ron. Just Ron. We’re here to talk about something, yeah? Have you ordered?”
“Yes, we are here to talk. And no, I haven’t ordered. What would you like, Sir… Ron? On me.” Scorpius gestured for the waiter to approach them.
Ron Weasley smirked at him. “A chocolate sundae with a double serving of chocolate shavings, and sprinkles, please.”
“And I’ll have one scoop of vanilla ice cream, please,” Scorpius told the waiter.
An odd silence descended upon the pair. Scorpius used it to collect himself and his thoughts and to observe Rose’s father across from him. In all those years, the two of them had never shared more than a sentence or two. Mister Weasley… Ron, would usually only grunt to acknowledge his presence or give him a polite hello if prodded by Rose’s mum. This whole conversation thing was discomfiting.
Their ice cream arrived, and they both dug in.
“So,” Ron said after swallowing a huge spoonful of his sundae. “You wanted to talk about something.”
Scorpius took a deep breath. “Better to be out with it, then. Sir. Ron. I asked you to meet with me so… so… I can ask you for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”
Ron sighed and his head bowed a little. “Just as I thought.”
Scorpius sighed as well but soldiered on.
“Sir. Ron. I love your daughter with my whole heart. And I think I’ve loved her even before I knew what love was. I want to spend the rest of my life with her, build a family with her, and make her happy every second of every day.”
“What does your father have to say about all this?” Ron asked, as if he hadn’t heard a line of Scorpius’s well-rehearsed speech. His blue eyes were trained on Scorpius’s gray ones, as if daring the younger man to tell a lie.
A frown marred Scorpius’s brow. “My parents gave me their blessing just this morning.”
“Your father, Draco Malfoy, gave you, his only son, his blessing to marry a Weasley?”
Scorpius straightened his back. He’d prepared for this line of questioning as well. “My father gave me his blessing to marry Rose Weasley, Sir … Ron. Not just any Weasley. He’s known Rose ever since we were little, and he respects her very much. Father and Mother know that your daughter is my best friend and the only girl I’ve ever loved, and the only girl I will ever love.”
“She’s too good for you,” Ron said abruptly.
Scorpius looked out the window. “I know.”
Both men turned their concentration to their ice cream. Scorpius had no way of knowing what was going through the other man’s head, but he had an inkling it wasn’t very complimentary to him. He had to admit that he expected a bit of sympathy from Rose’s father-given that he also pined for Rose’s mum, who was his best friend before they got together nearly a decade into their friendship-but it seemed no sympathy was forthcoming.
Finished with his ice cream, Scorpius placed a hand in his coat pocket and fished out a box, placing it at the centre of the table.
“Ron.”
Ron raised his head and eyed Scorpius, then the box.
“This is the engagement ring that I chose for Rose.” Scorpius opened the box and showed Ron a simple silver band dotted with small diamonds. “Mother wanted me to give your daughter the heirloom Malfoy engagement ring, but I figured Rose would want us to start a new history together.”
Ron remained silent but shifted the focus of his eyes from the ring to Scorpius’s face.
“You know I love your daughter. And she loves me, more than I deserve to be loved. And you’re right-I don’t deserve her. But I’m willing to spend the rest of my life proving myself worthy of her, making her smile and laugh, and giving her the best future there is. I only ask that you give me the chance.”
Scorpius heard Ron Weasley heave out a big sigh.
“Scorpius.”
“Yes?”
“I will not have my daughter being looked down upon by a bunch of aristocratic overlords.”
“Absolutely not.”
“She has five uncles, one of which is Harry Potter.”
“I’m aware of that, sir.”
Ron closed the box containing the engagement ring and pushed it towards Scorpius. “I guess I should be going now. There seems to be nothing I can say to stop you.”
“Nothing. If I have to elope with your daughter, I would do it,” Scorpius said in a small voice.
“Hey, now. Don’t push your luck,” Ron said with a tired chuckle. “There’s always a chance of my bright daughter refusing your proposal and breaking your heart.”
--
March 20, 2024, 8:44 p.m., at the gardens of Malfoy Manor
“Weasley.”
“Malfoy.”
“I suppose congratulations are in order,” Draco Malfoy drawled. Your daughter looks positively radiant in the arms of my son.”
Ron flashed an affected smile. “Yeah. Congratulations to you, too. And to your wife. The wedding stuff was… nice.”
“I hope you didn’t promise anyone that you’d try to get along with me. I still think you’re an uncouth prat. ‘Stuff,’ indeed...”
“No such promises, Malfoy. You’re nothing but a pointy git to me, after all.”
“Good. So about grandchildren…”
“First dibs on getting called ‘Pops’. I like the sound of that.”
“Weasley. You can have ‘Pops’ because I’m taking ‘Papa’.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
“Git.”
“Prat.”
Fin