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Ron returned home with a spring in his step.
He’d enjoyed the Cannons’ final win on their pre-season tour of Australia, he and George had closed the business deal they’d travelled there for, and he’d just now learned his daughter had been made prefect while he was away!
Life in the Granger-Weasley household should be at an all-time high.
Which was why he was rather concerned, after opening the front door, to hear his wife’s upset shouting from the living room.
“Your father and I will be having a long talk about this when he’s home, because if you think I’m disappointed, this is nothing compared to how he’ll feel!”
Ron stared apprehensively at the living room door, which was open a crack, but his wife and whichever of their children she was enraged with were out of his view. Clearly, they hadn’t heard him enter, or close the door behind him. Sighing softly, he quietly came closer.
“We never got up to anything like this…” Hermione continued, and Ron suppressed a smirk. He doubted Rose or Hugo were doing anything nearly as bad as they got up to at the same age. “…in fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone in the state you were in!”
“C’mon, mum, I didn’t mean for it to get out of hand.” It was Rose, and her words came out as a groan.
“You. Are. A prefect!” Hermione hissed, slowly and deliberately. “You should be setting an example to your friends, not letting them lead you astray-”
“They didn’t lead me astray, Mum,” Rose argued, “it was my idea, I just shouldn’t have let it out of hand.”
“Your idea?” Hermione squeaked, aghast; then she noticed Ron leaning in the doorway. “Are you hearing this, Ron?”
“I think they can hear this the next village over,” he said, pointedly, and Hermione’s lips disappeared into a thin line. He addressed Rose, who was sat on the settee looking sorry for herself and a little paler than usual. “What’ve you done, Rosie?” He asked her, with his best disappointed-dad face.
When Rose‘s eyes turned sullenly to the ground and she didn’t answer, Hermione spoke for her. “She invited half of Hogwarts round last night and threw a party while I was working late.”
Ron was surprised at that, but it explained why Rose looked hungover- she probably was. “That wasn’t clever, was it?”
Rose stared sulkily back at him, clearly unable to think of a witty retort, which was unlike her.
“How many people came round?” He asked Rose, but Hermione answered for her.
“At least forty! The whole Quidditch team, most of her housemates, some of her cousins- I’ve already told Angelina and Harry- and…well, Rose will tell you about her boyfriend!"
Boyfriend? Ron didn’t know Rose had a boyfriend.
Apparently, neither did Rose. “I don’t have a boyfriend!” She said, vehemently.
“Who-” Ron began, but Hermione continued.
“Well you looked very comfortable with him last night when I walked in!” She said, her cheeks slightly pink. “And if he’s not your boyfriend, I don’t know what business he has being here-”
“Eurgh, mum, he’s not that bad,” Rose groaned, and Ron groaned too, realising who it must be.
“Scorpius Malfoy was here?” He guessed, not wanting to think about what Hermione walked in on.
“He came with Albus!” Rose said, as though that absolved her.
“And who invited Albus?” Ron asked, rhetorically, then frowned. “Was James here, too?”
“He broke the cabinet door,” Hermione said, irritably. “He’s fixed it.”
“That’s alright then,” Ron mumbled sarcastically, thinking how best to get his nephew back.
“Right, well,” Hermione said, turning back to Rose. “You’re not going out with your friends again this summer. You’ll be here, at home, studying for your OWLs. And, you can write an essay, for me, on why you were chosen as Prefect and how on Earth you still think you’re suitable to be one after this…mess!” Hermione put her hands on her hips and subtly chewed on her lip, a habit Ron recognised from many years of experience as Hermione weighing up whether to add something else.
She did. “And no Quidditch next year,” she said. Ron sucked in a gulp of air.
“What?” Rose yelped, alarmed. “But, Mum, we’ve just won back-to-back titles! Auntie Ginny said I have a chance to go pro! Dad, tell her!”
“You’ll do as your mum tells you, Rose,” Ron said, trying not to snap. “She’s right, your OWLs are most important this year, not having parties. You should have thought about that if you wanted to play Quidditch.”
Rose made a noise halfway between a screech and a growl. “You’re so ridiculous,” she said, standing. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far!”
“Go to your room,” Ron said, disappointed. “And I don’t want to hear you complaining again today.”
Rose did as she was bid, still sorry for herself, leaving Ron and Hermione alone in their living room.
“Where’s Hugo?” Ron asked, breaking the silence their daughter left them with.
“Upstairs,” Hermione replied, and sighed. “He’s in trouble too, but as he told me what was happening and I got back before it got too much for me to fix, I’ve been fairer on him.”
“Only the studying for him then?” Ron suggested, a little flippantly. “No hobby ban, or personalised essay?”
Hermione looked worried, and Ron regretted his words immediately. “Am I being too harsh?” She asked. “I just don’t expect it; she does so well at school, they both do, but they can be so…so…so, stupid sometimes and I just wonder: why? And…” She made a frustrated gesture with her hands, as though she wanted to tear her hair out. Ron was pleased she didn’t. “I’m just really cross with her. She knows better, Ron, doesn’t she? Than to do this, than to mess around with Scorpius Malfoy?”
Ron set aside his feelings about Draco Malfoy for the moment to consider his old rival’s son. He’d never spoken to Scorpius- only been in any proximity with him on a handful of occasions- but Harry and Ginny only had good things to say about him, and his friendship with Albus. He resolved to talk to both Harry and Rose about Scorpius and see what the boy was like. “What was it they were doing?” Ron asked, not really wanting to know the answer.
Hermione mouthed a response back to him, too embarrassed to say it aloud, and Ron knew he’d have to fight very hard against the desire to throttle Scorpius Malfoy when he next saw him.
“You’re not being too harsh,” he said, eventually. “She needs to know she can’t do this.” He paused. “But, there was no lasting damage, was there?”
”No,” Hermione admitted. “I’m more annoyed she did it behind our backs than anything. We were always going to find out! And it’s not like we wouldn’t let her have a few friends round, if she’d asked, but forty or more people was ridiculous!”
Ron nodded. “Ginny was serious about her going professional,” he added, quietly.
He wondered for a moment if Hermione would argue with him, but she sighed. “I don’t want to stop her doing what she loves, but she needs to take this seriously.”
“She will, and not playing Quidditch will remind her of that,” Ron replied, approaching her and taking her into his arms, an embrace she returned gratefully. “No harm done. She’ll know not to do this again.”
“She does so well,” Hermione said, thickly. “So, so well, and then she does something so stupid!”
Teenagers , Ron thought. “I’ll speak to her when she’s had the chance to settle down.”
“Tell her she can play Quidditch again,” Hermione mumbled into Ron’s chest. He didn’t reply.
Dinner was largely a quiet affair from all four of them. Ron had decided to make his best steak pie for his return, normally a family favourite, but only Hugo tackled it with much enthusiasm, asking him about the Australia trip with interest, and Ron promising they could make a family holiday of the Cannons’ next pre-season tour.
Normally, Rose would have loved nothing more, but she poked miserably at her dinner before rushing up to her room after she was done.
I’ll save the dessert for another night, then , Ron thought, thinking of the goods he’d brought from the Australian International Portkey Office.
Hermione and Hugo cleaned the dishes between them, so Ron took the opportunity to see Rose alone.
In her room, he was unsurprised to see her schoolbooks open on her desk, and nowhere near Rose herself; his daughter was lounging on her bed with a pair of omnioculars.
At the sound of her bedroom door, she hastily put the omnioculars to one side and made to grab her schoolwork, only to stop when she realised she was caught red-handed. She looked quite embarrassed.
He sighed, and for a moment was about to shout or tell her off. Then he calmed down. “Potions?” Ron asked instead, glancing at the book she’d reached for.
“Professor Greengrass wanted an essay covering every potion we’d studied over the last two years,” Rose said, eyes rolling. “She must be the most demanding, strict, harsh potions teacher ever! How’re we supposed to remember every potion we’ve ever brewed?”
Ron was silent for a good long while, doubting her claim considerably. “She’s not that bad,” he managed, eventually, reasoning she would be testing Rose’s memory as much as anything. “I know it’s boring, sometimes, Rosie,” he said, “but Mum’s right. It’s important you do well in your OWLs. And you’re bright enough to at least be passing every subject, you should be aiming for Os in half of them. And we’re proud you’re a prefect, really, really pleased, but you’ve got an example to set-”
“I don’t want to be a stupid prefect,” Rose said, suddenly, taking Ron by surprise.
“You don’t?” He asked, dumbfounded. For all her antics, Rose was a model student, even without Hermione’s influence. “Did you never?”
Rose gave a shrug. “It’s just more expectation.”
Ron sat down beside her, and put his arm around her shoulders. “You set your own standards, Rose. No one ever seems to expect more from you, than you .”
“Except Mum,” Rose moaned.
Ron smiled. “You tried learning to read before learning to walk!” He reminded her. “Your mum and I only want what’s best for you. Now why aren’t you happy being prefect?”
“Well, James and Fred have already teased me,” she admitted, and Ron frowned.
“Well, your uncle Harry told me James was actually a little put out when he wasn’t made prefect,” Ron revealed. “Thought it should’ve come alongside his Quidditch captain’s badge. His head must have been in the clouds, mind, he spent most of his fourth year in and out of detention...” Ron shook his head. “Don’t let your cousins bother you. They don’t mean it, and James is probably just jealous.” But he made a mental note to talk about it with Harry when he next saw him.
“They’re never going to take me seriously as a prefect though,” Rose said, sullenly.
Ron thought immediately of Fred and George. “That’s not for you to worry about,” he reassured her. “And since when have you worried about them not taking you seriously? How many times have I seen you keeping them and Albus and Roxanne out of trouble? Being a prefect isn’t about being in charge, it’s about being responsible,” he said, suddenly wishing he could have given himself the same advice at her age. “That’s what your mum and I are disappointed about, Rosie, because there was none of that responsibility last night.”
She sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said, and it seemed she meant it. “I’ll ask you, next time.”
“And one of us will be home, next time,” Ron told her, and she grimaced, before he hugged her.
“Dad,” Rose said, tentatively, after they broke apart. “About the Quidditch…”
“No promises, but I’ll work on your mother,” he said, deciding to keep quiet that Hermione had already taken that part of her punishment back. “Let us know if you want help with your homework. If you’re bored of Potions do something you’re interested in, but promise you’ll do some revision.”
Rose nodded, and smiled sheepishly. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Now,” he said, standing again and folding his arms. “Tell me about Scorpius Malfoy…”