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As Scorpius took in his surroundings, he found himself in awe of the serene beauty that somehow seemed to unfold in moments like these. Countless stars twinkled like tiny diamonds in the night sky. The snow-covered landscape shimmered silver in the light of the full moon, reminding him of the fairy tales his aunt Daphne used to read to him at bedtime. Even the freezing temperature felt comfortable now that the harsh wind had died down. It was all so bloody peaceful, almost as if there wouldn’t be pain, blood, and suffering in a few short moments.
Scorpius deeply breathed in and out a few times to calm his racing heart and clear his head. His breath rose up in the air in tufts of white mist. Winning the impending battle was paramount. He couldn’t afford to make mistakes in his heightened excitement.
Across the snowy field, the enemy was also preparing for the impending clash. A sly grin played on Scorpius’s lips as he observed the poor buggers. They stood little chance, mainly since their best fighter had been strategically eliminated. Scorpius took personal pride in ensuring that outcome and intended to exploit their weakness to the fullest extent.
The crunch of footsteps in the snow interrupted Scorpius’s reveries about possible strategies to victory.
“Are you ready?” a voice asked.
Scorpius glanced sideways to find Albus standing beside him. His nose and cheeks were red from the cold, and snow adorned his messy hair.
“I was born ready.” Scorpius lifted his chin, the trademark Malfoy smirk gracing his face as his eyes locked onto Victoire’s. She glared at him, jabbing two fingers in his direction. Her usually otherworldly pretty face was briefly twisted into something very ugly, purposely giving him insight into her true nature. While such tactics might work on others, they didn’t impress Scorpius. He was a Malfoy, after all, and had faced far worse. It came with the name.
“You know the rules – no magic whatsoever,” Albus sternly reminded him. He kept a serious expression for a few heartbeats before bursting into laughter. “So, naturally, you’ve hidden your wand up your sleeve.”
Scorpius gasped, mockingly clutching the front of his coat in the offence. “In my back pocket, actually,” he said quietly as he waved at Lucy and Dominique, who had joined Victoire’s mission to stare him down. “It’s not easy to release from the holster with gloves on.”
“Good, good.” Albus nodded. “They’ll play dirty, use their claws or cry dragon tears to get their way. Keep that in mind. It led to our defeat the last time.”
What he actually meant to say was, ‘Don’t fall for that shite again’ .
“Not this year.” Scorpius had made sure that his one weakness was removed from the battle. The win was as good as theirs.
In the distance, the church bells chimed midnight; Christmas had arrived. The rest of Scorpius and Albus’s group approached. Their murmurs for revenge for last year’s humiliating loss grew louder as the bells tolled.
“Get ready, mate. This is it,” Albus declared as he bent at the waist, shaping the first snowball of the night. The other Weasley men, by blood and otherwise, followed his lead. Across the field, the Weasley women mirrored their actions.
“Yeah, this is it,” sighed Scorpius, turning away from the looming battle.
The elderly, the too-young, and otherwise incapacitated stood on the sidelines, cheering for their favourites and yelling instructions. Among them was Rose, his fiancée and usually his biggest nemesis. She was chatting animatedly, sitting on the stone wall alongside her grandparents and his mother. Unable to fasten properly anymore, her woollen coat hung to the sides. Underneath it, last year’s mint-green Weasley Christmas jumper stretched tightly around her very big belly. At nine months pregnant, she was ready to pop.
Any day now, Scorpius thought as a different kind of excitement surged through him.
Rose grinned smugly when she finally caught his eye. Scorpius didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what she was thinking. His foolish girl still believed that the women would win this year.
“Think again, sweetheart,” he muttered as he bent down to form his first snowball of the night.
The twelfth toll of the bells had just faded when the first snowball—or rather, ice ball of the night soared through the air, connecting squarely with Ron’s face. Almost immediately, blood poured from his nose. With the string of colourful curses that followed and Hermione’s shrill battle cry, the skirmish at the Burrow was finally officially underway.
As Scorpius’s well-aimed snowball struck Victoire in the ear, causing her to stumble backwards and Rose to curse his name for nearly taking out her favourite, a sense of certainty washed over him. There was no doubt in his mind that the men would win the annual Weasley Snowball Fight this year.
Fin