The End of the Beginning (Draco Malfoy x Fem Reader)

Chapter Thirty-Three: The Platform

15 YEARS POST-WAR; 12 YEARS AFTER THE WEDDING

Me: George, do you think they'll be alright?

GW: y/n, of course, they will, do you really think they'll be that much trouble? 

Me: If they're even half as troublesome as we used to be...

GW: I know, I know. The Worrisome Weasleys and y/n. Well, guess what? You're a Worrisome Weasley now too.

Me: There's a new wave of them going to Hogwarts...

GW: McGonagall is going to rip her hair out.

Me: If she doesn't drop dead from surprise first.

GW: She'll go mental.

Me: Absolutely insane.

GW: I wonder if they'll be prefects...

Me: They won't, George, they definitely won't.

GW: But you were...

Me: So? I wasn't even there long enough to hold the title.

GW: Should we, I don't know, catch up to the kids?

Me: Yeah, don't want Mum hauling them all off--

GW: Like last year?

Me: Stop it. It was an accident.

GW: You couldn't park the car!

Me: Muggle cars are bullshit!

GW: You ended up using magic!

Me: I'm a goddamned witch! I'll use magic if I want!

GW: I love your attitude. 

He pecks my cheek.

Me: Shut up Weasley.

GW: You're a Weasley too, so don't play that.

"Mum! Dad! Hurry up!"

GW: Coming!

George grabs my hand and we run through platform 9 3/4.

GW: Here we are!

"Come on George! Your sons are waiting!"

We run up to Molly who is helping all the Weasley kids load their stuff onto the train. 

MW: Ugh, finally. I was starting to think that you had trouble parking again.

Me: We don't live in the muggle world anymore. That was just for a few weeks last year.

MW: I know, that's why I was worried.

"Mother, I can't find Howl."

I look over at a young boy, no more than eleven, holding up an empty birdcage. His fiery red, curly hair, reflecting the sun.

Me: Figo, I told you to lock the damn cage.

"Mum, watch your mouth."

I turn around to see another boy, identical to the last except he has brown eyes while Figo has blue.

Me: Freddie, where's Cat?

Cat is, well, Freddie's pet Cat. She's ten years old, all white, and is always getting lost.

FrW: uh...Cat? Caaaaat!

The white cat crawls onto his cart. 

Me: There she is. You kids ready?

FrW: I'm ready, Mum.

Me: How about you Go-Go?

FiW: Can you not call me that anymore, Mum?