Chapter Text
Harry ran through the small house happily. “Severus!” He hissed, going to the man and bouncing on his heels.
Severus looked down at the boy, the corners of his scowl twitching up in his version of a smile. “What is it, Harry?”
”The Weasleys got tickets to the Quidditch World Cup! Can I go?”
Severus gave a frown, considering. “I don’t know. I’m not too keen on letting you out of my sight. Who knows what trouble you’ll attract. I’d imagine that Hermione will be there as well, so that means the amount of bad luck will triple. On the other hand, I don’t like the idea of you being separated from Ronald and Hermione for too long…”
”Oh please, Severus? I’ll, uh… I’ll… I don’t know what I’ll do in return, but I will!”
”Hm… Well then, you’ve got to promise that you’ll not be a sneak and snoop around to find out what’s happening this year. Lupin and Black are excited to see your faces.”
”What?! Oh, alright… So, can I go?“
”I suppose.”
”Yes!” The boy turned and ran to his room to give Pigwidgen the answer. “I love you, Severus!”
”’Mione, please!”
”You can’t copy my homework! We haven’t even gotten back to school yet, I’m not going to let you do this already!”
”It’s alright, Ron, you can copy mine.”
”Harry!”
”Ah, mate, you’re a lifesaver!”
A knock sounded from their door, and their mouths shut instantly. Ron’s guard raised, and Hermione set her posture into her normal self-assuredness. Ron cleared his throat. “Come in!”
Mrs. Weasley walked into the room with a smile on her face. “Hello, Harry dear. I’m so glad you could join us. Those muggles might not be so bad after all, yeah?”
Harry grinned. It hurt the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, maybe.”
”They were starving him, mum! Put bars on his window-“
She looked shocked, but then her face set in an angry scowl. She didn’t believe him. “You best hope I don’t put bars on your window, Ronald Weasley!”
That was the only time Ron broke their promise. He never did it again.
”I’m really excited to see professional Quidditch, Mrs. Weasley! It’s Bulgaria versus Ireland, right?”
”That’s right. We’re supporting Ireland, of course.”
”That makes sense,” Hermione piped up.
”Everyone get packed up, you’re leaving early in the morning!”
”Yes,” came the chorus of replies. The woman left the room and shut the door behind her. Harry stared after her. Hermione began to pack her things.
”I still don’t know how I feel about Molly,” Harry hissed.
Ron looked up at him sympathetically. “I know how you feel,” he said, “I don’t know how to feel either.”
Hermione looked up uncomfortably, folding a shirt. “I… I’m sorry for always saying we should tell someone. I do know better than to trust adults. I’m just so tired of being grown up.”
”It’s okay, ‘Mione. It was Dumbledore’s fault with his compulsions,” Ron hissed, “At least we’ve got Severus now.”
Hermione smiled at him, and went back to packing. Ron and Harry joined her after a bit of groaning. Harry was happy.
Harry looked around in awe at the small vendors shouting about their wares, the trodden pathways full of spectators. Ron stopped at a rack of odd binoculars, covered in dials and buttons. He bought them each a pair, handing over the galleons without thought. It made Harry happy to see him buy things without counting out every knut. He’d finally gotten used to having money, after about a month of access to the vaults of Slytherin and Gryffindor.
Harry grinned, pulling his siblings friends along towards the stadium.