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“Draco, he is only seven, we have years ahead of us!”
“When I was seven, I was already at the top of the league.”
“Mini Quidditch, Draco, Mini Quidditch, and there was no league.”
“I have the trophies I won, Hermione, a whole shelf of them in fact. I can fetch them for you right away.”
“Um, weren’t they all for Kiddy — pardon me — Mini Quidditch? Where every child was given a Top Player award?”
“Mini Quidditch, or Club Quidditch, it doesn't matter, Scorp should have already decided on the position he'll play the rest of his career.”
“You started off as a seeker at Hogwarts, but now you play beater — Scorpius may find he is better off as something else the same way.”
“That’s just it, love, I am no professional player, so I can switch it up. Look at Ginerva, she's played chaser all her life.”
“She hasn’t, and there is no telling if he will want to play professional quidditch.”
“But he loves the game, Hermione, and he always says he wants to play for the Falcons.”
“Draco, we are not deciding on our son’s career for him. He is free to make that choice himself, based on his likes and strengths.”
“Hermione, it’s quidditch!”
“Draco, be reasonable.”
“Mother! Father!” Scorpius had been watching the exchange between his parents for a good ten minutes, and he was amused but also slightly miffed they hadn't noticed him. He had been swinging his head this way and that as he followed their flailing arms and shaking heads, and it made him feel quite queasy.
“It is almost 3, Grandfather Lucius will be here any moment now to take me to the Manor for tea with Grandmother Narcissa. I only wanted to say goodbye.”
His parents startled at the sound of his voice, facing him immediately. His mother crouched down, ruffling his curls, and fluffing his bow. “No need to be so stiff, love, and you know your grandparents don't want you to be so formal with them either.”
“But Mr Percy Weasley says it is never too early to learn how to address people correctly.” Scorpius scrunched his face, “And now I have to comb my hair again.”
“I never thought I’d live to see the day when a scion of the Malfoy family would ever look up to a Weasley for guidance.” His father knelt, pulling him into a hug, and Scorpius allowed himself to sink into the warm, safe embrace, nuzzling into his chest.
When he finally resurfaced, he tugged on his shirt to straighten it, and brushed his shoulders, just as he’d seen Mr Percy Weasley do. He then fixed his eyes on his parents, face set with firm conviction. “I need all the help I can get, and Mr Percy and Grandfather have volunteered to train me so that I can be the youngest Headmaster Hogwarts has ever seen.”
He nodded at his dumbfound parents, walked towards the door, but then paused turning to flash them a cheeky grin, “I do love quidditch, but if I wanted to play professionally, I would choose football, — like Mr Dean Thomas — he seems to be richer than you, Father.
Scorpius hummed sprightly, clashing with the stiff image of his head held high, as he continued his trek to the floo chamber to wait for his grandfather.