Fandoms: Harry Potter, Supernatural
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Warnings: Spoilers for all Harry Potter books, spoilers for Supernatural until 5x10.
Disclaimer: This is a transformative work of fiction for entertainment purposes only.
AN: Sequel to Damned Demented Demons and Bobby and Hermione - An Epistolary Fic . Updates every Wednesday (PST).
Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12
Summary: In which Harry and the Weasleys meet Scorpius
A/N to Chapter 13: This one is a LITTLE bit shorter than usual, but next week's is going to be longer than usual, so it all balances out.
Sam couldn’t see where Harry was when he entered the shop, but there were a fair number of customers. Ron was still on cash and there were a few customers lined up. Sam lifted Scorpius off his shoulders and placed him on the floor, then laughed at the kid’s wide-eyed amazed stare as he took in the store. It only took Scorpius a second to recover before he was wondering around touching everything he could get his hands on. Sam only had to follow and make sure he didn’t break anything. Since George had already given them a tour, Sam was even able to demonstrate some of the products to Scorpius.
Sam had lifted Scorpius up and sat him on his hip so that he could see something on a higher shelf, when Harry came around the side of the shelf.
“There you are,” Harry said, “I’ve been- Is that Scorpius Malfoy?”
Sam smiled at Harry’s concerned confusion, but noticed that Scorpius clung a little tighter to him. He looked down to see Scorpius giving Harry the same look that he had given the shop when he had first come in. So, Sam patted the kid on the leg, because he didn’t know what else to do.
“Yeah,” Sam said. “Dean’s outside with his Mom and Dad.”
“Malfoy let you take his son?” Harry asked.
“Well, not permanently,” Sam laughed. “But the kid has ten..um, galleons, to spend, and Draco said he and Astoria couldn’t come in, so I offered.”
“That’s...nice of you,” Harry said.
“You think it’s ok?” Sam asked, “I mean, George seemed like a reasonable guy, and I figured that Scorpius shouldn’t suffer because of something his parents did...” and damn, Sam thought, his own mother’s final words to him were “I’m sorry” for a reason.
Sam watched as Harry glanced over to the cash, and nodded. Harry then smiled at Scorpius, holding out his hand.
“Hello Scorpius, it’s nice to meet you. Do you know who I am?” Harry asked.
“Potter,” Scorpius nodded, placing his small hand in Harry’s. Harry laughed, but Sam wasn’t sure why.
“Do you need help finding anything?” Harry asked.
Sam kept Scorpius on his hip while the kid directed him and Harry around the store, trying to decide what he was going to buy. It seemed he wanted something for himself, but also wanted to buy a present for his dad – Sam wasn’t sure if a four-year-old was supposed to be decisive or not, but Scorpius certainly wasn’t.
“Hey, Draco thinks you kidnapped his boy or something,” Dean said, when he found them by the trick wands.
“Has it been that long?” Sam asked, looking at his watch.
“Nah, but he started acting like it was a hostage exchange – as long as I was chatting outside with him, you’d come back with the kid,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. “Dude’s a bit messed up.”
“Have you decided, Scorpius?” Sam asked the kid still sitting on his hip. “Sounds like your Dad needs you.”
Scorpius nodded and picked out a trick wand for himself. He had already picked a self-inking quill out for his Dad. All four of them made their way over to the cash. Sam was sort of hoping that whatever George and Bill were discussing in the back would continue to keep George occupied until they got Scorpius out of the shop.
When they got to the cash, Ron only paused briefly when his eyes landed on Scorpius. Sam watched as Ron glanced at Harry, who stood behind him, and then at the closed door at the back of the shop.
“I hope it’s ok,” Sam said, as Ron punched the buttons on the old cash register.
“I don’t know,” Ron muttered. He didn’t bother looking at them.
“I just thought...if his Dad waited outside-” Sam tried to explain.
“I like your shop!” Scorpius suddenly announced. Ron’s eyes finally rested on Scorpius, and he gave the kid a smile. Sam breathed a small sigh of relief.
“Thanks,” Ron said.
“Thank you for letting me in,” Scorpius continued, and Ron’s smile faltered a little.
“You’re welcome,” Ron said in a small voice, “that’ll be twelve galleons.”
“Shit,” Sam said, realizing he had forgotten to check the price of the trick wands before telling Scorpius that they had enough money for them. He brought out the coins that Astoria had given him and stared at them, wishing they would multiply. It’s not like he and Dean had been able to get what was obviously special wizard currency at the currency exchange place in Boston.
Scorpius had clued in to the fact that something was wrong, because the kid’s eyes had grown pitifully larger and he was staring at Sam as though Sam had just promised the kid a trip to Disney World and then burnt it to the ground in front of him...and if the kid started crying, Sam didn’t know what the hell he was going to do...and maybe Sam was panicking just a little bit. Maybe he could ask how many pounds were in a galleon. Sam looked at Dean to find Dean already looking back at him with an equal look of contained panic.
“You forgot the discount,” a voice suddenly said from the end of the counter, and Sam turned to see George casually leaning there and observing them calmly.
“Dis-” Ron started to say in confusion.
“First-time customers under the age of five who are escorted by Americans over 180cm tall get a discount,” George explained with a wave of his hand. “A little known shop policy.” George came around to behind the counter and looked down at the coins in Sam’s open hand, and at the two items on the counter. “The discount is that they get any two items for ten galleons.”
“Thank you,” Sam breathed, and emptied his handful of coins into George’s waiting hand.
“It’s a shop policy,” George said, “no thanks necessary.”
“You never give me a discount and I’m your brother,” Ron muttered.
“We don’t have a policy for brothers,” George said without missing a beat, “only first-time customers under the age of five who are escorted by Americans over 180 cm tall.”
George winked at Scorpius and handed over the small bag with his purchases.
“Thank you for shopping at Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes,” George said.
“Thank you, Mr. Weasley,” Scorpius smiled back, holding the bag protectively against his chest.
“You’re welcome, Mr. Malfoy,” George smiled, then he held out a folded piece of paper, “can you do me a favour and give this to your father for me too?”
“Yes, sir,” Scorpius said, small hand plucking the note from Georges fingers carefully.
“Thanks, have a good day,” George said, and then he turned to next customer as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Sam threw a glance at Harry, but Harry just shrugged, so Sam went to return Scorpius to his father.
Draco Malfoy was the picture of tension standing under an awning of a shop across the street with his wife. As soon as Sam set foot on the street, he saw Draco take an aborted step forward – obviously wanting to shorten the distance between him and his son, but trying not to give away how anxious he was. Sam gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile, but then realized that Draco was only looking at Scorpius, not Sam at all. Astoria, however, returned Sam’s smile broadly.
When Scorpius finally dragged his gaze away from the shop over Sam’s shoulder and towards his father, giving him a wide smile, Sam was relieved to see Draco relax a little and smile back – even if the smile was still a little bit on the forced side. Scorpius squirmed, so Sam placed him back on his feet so that he could cross the remaining distance to his father himself.
“Daddy!” Scorpius said, “I got you a present.”
“You did?” Draco asked, crouching down. Sam watched as Draco seemed to do the same sight-check on Scorpius that Dean usually gave Sam after a hunt – and Sam had to wonder how bad the grudge between Draco and Weasleys really was.
“Yes, but you have to share with Mummy, and Mr. Weasley told me to give this too you,” Scorpius said, handing out the note dutifully. It was only then that Draco’s eyes darted up to meet Sam’s – a question in them. Sam could only shrug.
“Which Mr. Weasley?” Draco asked.
“The nice one?” Scorpius answered, a little confused. Draco looked pleadingly at Sam.
“George,” Sam said.
“Ok,” Draco carefully took the note from Scorpius, and Sam watched curiously as Draco took a deep breath and walked several paces away from both his wife and son before he opened the note.
“Draco, what does the note say?” Astoria asked.
Draco was looking at the shop in disbelief and then back at the note, as though he couldn’t decide if it contained good news or bad news. He walked back over to stand next to his wife.
“It umm...says I’m a stupid prat” Draco replied, “and that we are welcome to accompany Scorpius into the shop ourselves from now on.”
“Thanks, man,” Dean said, as soon as George had finished with the customer who had been waiting behind Sam in line. “I thought he was going to cry for a minute there.”
“Don’t mention it,” George said, shaking his head.
“I don’t think Malfoys are allowed to cry,” Ron said. “I’m sure Draco has him trained too well for that.”
“I was talking about Sam,” Dean smiled.
George laughed and winked at Dean.
Sam came in shortly after that, and they said their goodbyes to George and Ron. Apparently, Bill had left through the fireplace in the backroom a while ago.
Harry told them that the bank was closed on Sundays, and the goblins hated him anyway, so they decided to end the tour of Diagon Alley and head back to the Leaky Caldron for lunch. Once they were settled into a booth. Dean remembered to tell Harry about Astoria’s invitation.
“Draco’s wife invited me and Sammy over for dinner on Wednesday,” Dean said. “I told her it’d probably be fine.”
“Yeah, she confirmed it with me,” Sam said. “I was kind of surprised, given how Malfoy reacted to us last year.”
“Was it before or after she found out you were my friends and possibly Muggles?” Harry asked, a knowing grin on his face.
“After,” Dean said, wondering why that made a difference. Harry just huffed a small laugh. “What?”
“Nothing, Malfoy just married well, that’s all,” Harry said. “If you don’t want to go, I could get you out of it.”
“Nah, that’s ok,” Dean said, thinking about how happy it had seemed to make Astoria when he had tentatively agreed.
Harry waved over Hannah then to take their orders.
“Malfoy asked me what you were saying about your friends,” Hannah said in a hushed voice as she seemed to take an oddly long time to write ‘bangers and mash.’ “I told him what you said. He asked if you had said anything about Muggles, I told him no – Astoria seemed a little put out by that. Also asked about last names, he didn’t seem surprised when I told him you hadn’t said.”
“Thanks Hannah, can we get a round of butterbeers too please,” Harry said.
“Certainly,” Hannah said and retreated back behind the bar.
“Is there something funky going on that Sam and I should know about?” Dean asked.
“Malfoy’s social standing is far from the best,” Harry sighed. “He married Astoria, I’m sure because he loved her, but probably also because her family was never implicated with the Death Eaters. It was a step-up in standing for Malfoy, but a step-down for her...which when you think about it, probably means that she loves him too. She’s basically made it her mission to change Malfoy’s social status – or at least make him less of a social pariah. It’s all about who he’s seen with. Think of it like a point-system: friends of Harry Potter are a lot of points, more so if they’re Aurors or other law-enforcement officials. Muggles are a lot of points as well. Astoria was probably disappointed that she couldn’t announce that they were having Muggles over for dinner.”
“Why does being a Muggle matter?” Sam asked.
“The war was about more than just Riddle taking over – it was also a war over blood-status: Pure-blood wizards versus half-bloods, squibs, and even Muggles. The Death Eaters thought pure-blood wizards – people like the Malfoy’s and the Blacks - were superior. Once they took over the Ministry, they started torturing Muggles, and killing Wizards that were Muggle born or had a Muggle parent.” Harry nodded towards Hannah, who was making her way over with a tray full of drinks. “They killed Hannah’s mum when Hannah was sixteen, and persecuted her Dad a year later for being a blood-traitor.”
Harry’s stopped talking just before Hannah reached the table, setting the pints of frothy drink in front of each of them.
“Here you are, gents,” Hannah said. “Food will be out in a minute,”
“Thanks Hannah,” Dean said giving her a smile, before she moved away.
“To be honest, I wish I could be a fly on the wall Wednesday night,” Harry said.
“Why’s that?” Dean asked, taking a sip of whatever drink Harry had ordered for them – it was like liquid candy.
“Malfoy’s parents still live there,” Harry replied.