Author's note: This chapter is told from Scorpius' perspective.


The day of departure had arrived and oh Merlin, I was nervous.

"Scorpius," Mother called from down the hall. I was busy cleaning my room. Getting rid of the random crap around the place and contemplating whether I needed a haircut or not. Were blonde locks flowing in the cold manor draft hot or not?

"Coming, Mother," I called carefully fixing my reflection in my mirror hanging above a set of drawers, wiping all traces of glee off my face.

I shut the door behind me and headed down the hall. If I could redecorate the hall I would. Take down all the portraits, pictures and pureblood memorabilia. Throw it all away or set it on fire especially my father's dark arts collection. I cringed at the hundred plus memories I had of him polishing and dusting each item manically.

Lining the top of the hallway, close to the ceiling, four generations of house elves heads from decades ago sat gathering dust. 'That's another thing I have to do,' I thought, 'make sure Rose never looks up.'

Five doors later, I was standing on the threshold of my parents' room. Mother's suitcase was open on her bed. It was overflowing with robes.

"Have you seen your father?" She frowned. Her crunched face drew more attention to the faint worry lines the specialist had missed. "I called for him but nothing. I don't want to disturb Dinky, he's busy making the dinner. I'm not eating burnt food again."

"I'll look," I plastered my 'son of the year' smile on my face. No need to make her upset. The last thing I needed was a sudden change in plans.

I had been treading on eggshells for the past couple of days. It was exhausting.

The obvious place to look for him was his study two flights of stairs away, at bottom of the house right at the back. So of course, she would send me looking.

I hadn't told any one in the house what happened in Defense. I couldn't look at my father properly. Not because I was deceiving him, I've been doing that for months without an ounce of guilt in my heart, but because of how much he looked like Grandfather Lucius. I felt sick every time I looked at him and when I spoke to him my voice went stiff and tight.

The glossy black study door was open a crack but the lights in the hall didn't brighten the dark room. Nothing unusual about that. He likes all the curtains shut and the lights off adding to his 'dark' persona in the wizarding world. I personally think he's on a mission to damage his eyes or maybe he's giving himself an excuse to eat as many carrots as he does at dinner.

"Father?" I knocked nudging the door open another inch.

There was a cough, then, "Scorpius, come in."

I pushed it open fully letting the light from the hall stream in. Bookshelves lined the walls of the study. Dusty jars of potions ingredients were displayed on their shelves. In the centre of the room at a wide antique desk sat my father. Hair slicked back. He sported the world's worst helmet hair voluntarily. He stopped writing but didn't look up instead he started chewing on the end of his quill.

"Mother's looking for you."

His peacock feather quill went from his mouth to his parchment. He didn't glance up.

"Scorpius, come here a minute." He ignored what I said.

I walked over to his desk not bothering to shut the door even though I knew it would annoy him. That tiny jab wasn't going to make father change his plans. I slumped down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. Is this how a normal father and son talk? With a desk between them? I doubt it.

"What?- Sorry- Yes, father?" The normal Hogwarts' mannerisms were rubbing off on me. Every time I returned home it got harder and harder to find that pureblood prick.

Father's head snapped up. He blinked and let the slip go this time.

"Are you sure you do not wish to come to the event?"

"Yes, father. I'll worry too much about Grandmother."

"I could enlist someone else to look after Grandmother Narcissa, there's still time."

"Honestly, father, I'm tired from my busy term of school work. I got an E in Transfiguration." Yeah, only 'cause Rose Weasley told me I was saying the incantation wrong.

"No Os? What about Defence-"

I tightened up.

"Or Potions?"

I relaxed.

"I'm almost there in Potions," I answered.

"And Defense?"

"Great."

"Your mother and I might see Professor Crepsley at the event. I'll ask him."

That's a dead end I did not need to be in.

"There's no need, father. I'll get Os in the summer I just need time to study."

"What about quidditch?"

I'm still fetching the quaffle in my spare time when I bother to show up if that's what you mean?

"I'll make the team next year," I said. "Tough competition."

"We could make a deal with-"

"No," I said. He stared at me. "I mean I want to get in on skill and study comes first like you always say." Quick save.

"Friends?"

"Plenty."

"The right friends?"

My jaw dropped, "Father, you don't seriously think I would be caught dead with a mudblood?"

He nodded, satisfied, "I don't want anything happening to you, Scorpius. You are my one and only son. My heir. I know you can be a bit strange at times-"

"Strange. How am I the strange one?" I blurted out unable to stop the harsh words.

"But I suppose that is your age." He finished cooly. "Don't interrupt me. Respect goes a long way in this household. If I spoke to my father like that back in the day… I'll put it this way, I wouldn't even think about it."

There a beat. We glared at other intensely across the desk. It was like he was daring me to open my mouth. I stared right back doing my best to keep my face blank.

Then his cool demeanour shattered.

He slammed his hand down on the desk. His quills jumped and rattled in their pots.

"Apologise, boy!" He snapped. The slam and the snap went through me like a wave. I knitted my hands together to stop them from shaking. I had to be brave, but rational.

"I'm sorry, father. I'll leave." I got up without being told.

"You didn't mean that." He said coldly.

"Mother's looking for you."

"Don't change the subject." He warned.

"I'm sorry, father," I said making my face as sad and regretful looking as possible.

We almost had the exact same face. 'Is that what I look like when I'm angry?' I wondered for, surprisingly, the first time. I thought back to when I told Rose it was 'nothing' at Hagrid's. My heart panged. I didn't want her to feel the way I felt under his stitched eyebrows and glare.

His face softened a bit.

"Good boy."

Yuck.

I nodded.

"I'm writing a letter to Zabini." He gestured to the parchment with his quill.

I nodded again, still standing. I was inching towards the door, towards the light.

"About what, father?" I asked just like he wanted me to.

A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. Suddenly I felt nine again sitting with my father at his desk questioning everything and staring up at him like he knew all the answers and could do no wrong.

Merlin, I was deluded.

"About the pesty Weasleys."

My heart dropped to my stomach. When was he not ranting about the Weasleys? And I thought I had an obsession with Rose.

I nodded, this time more rigid. I felt stupid. She was my girlfriend I should be able and allowed to defend her family. I looked down at my shoes like the coward I was.

"I'm trying to think of a word that best describes Ron Weasel's walk. A troll-walk at times and at others like a house elf's rag doll- Come on, Scorpius, you're usually excellent at these things."

I shook my head, "I'm going to study. I'll try and think there."

Father's face fell.

"Mother really needs you," I added walking out into the light. I could suddenly breathe again.