Dance Lessons - Scorose

Parenting and Etiquette

Rose had expected parenting to be hard; she suddenly had two human beings completely dependent on her, of course it would be difficult. Everyone else just made it look so easy - her grandmother seemed to be an expert in the matter. If there was a degree in parenting, Molly Weasley would be the lecturer.

Rose didn't know how to be a mother because she'd never had one. Of course, she did have a mother and Hermione was the best mother in the world but her expertise seemed to lie in the later stages of life. From the age of seven, Rose had told her mum everything that was going on in her life; Hermione managed to provide sensible advice to problems whereas Ron's solution was often 'breaking their face'.

It was her dad who had raised Rose and her brother at home for the first five years of her life. Hermione had always had career aspirations that seemed to stretch to the moon and back again and Ron wouldn't allow any misogynistic stereotypes to stop those from becoming reality. Hermione had often told her how Hugo only stopped crying when Ron was holding him or how he knew the exact way Rose liked her sandwiches - they weren't as good when made by anyone else. He had the Molly Weasley gene in him - a certain magic that Hermione painfully admitted she never had, no matter how many books she read. The only problem was that Ron wasn't the most open of people - he rarely ever talked about himself (at least not seriously) and so Rose had never received any young parenting tips from him. 

And so Rose and Scorpius felt themselves to be very much alone. Were their children supposed to be crying that much? Was that too long between feeds? Were they preventing them sleeping through the night because of the lengthy naps they let them have? They muddled through, just about.

"How do you do it, Al?" Rose asked her cousin as they were standing in the kitchen on the day of Isobel and Tommy's first birthday.

"How do I do what?"

"How do you know what to do? With Gwen, I mean. I still have no idea how to be a parent - does that make me a bad mum?"

He gave an amused sigh. "Don't be silly, of course it doesn't. Do you really think I know what I'm doing all the time? When Gwen was born, me and Alice panicked like you wouldn't believe. We compared ourselves to every single mum and dad out there and became convinced we were the worst parents in the world. That was until we realised that nobody really knows what they're doing. Rosie, every parent is just doing what they can to get by - and that doesn't make you a bad mum, that makes you a mum. And if you are a bad mum," he looked through the door to the living room, "you must be the best bad mum in the world because you look like you're doing pretty okay to me."

She breathed a sigh of relief and pulled Albus into a hug before they both made their way back into the living room.

It was a typical baby birthday - Rose and Scorpius had worked hard to make it perfect (as had Astoria and Hermione), despite knowing full well that their children wouldn't remember a second of it. Isobel and Tommy were showered with presents and attention (which suited the two of them just fine). It was only the Potters, the Malfoys and Rose's group of Weasleys there - Teddy and Victoire had decided to go on holiday and, instead, came over for lunch the weekend afterwards with toys from America.

On her way to go and find the birthday cake which would mean her children wouldn't sleep that night, Rose caught sight of Charlie in the dining room. He was sat at the piano Draco had bought them, clearly contemplating playing. He lifted his hands up to the keys and then pulled them away again. Rose watched silently from the doorway. He lifted his fingers again and slowly played a simple melody.

"I didn't know you played," Rose said, causing him to jump and slam the lid down. 

"I, I don't really," he said with a slight chuckle, "Just a couple of tunes. You don't, do you?"

"No," she scoffed, "Scorpius does though. He puts it down to his heritage. 'Every Malfoy man should be able to play a musical instrument, ballroom dance, fence, and be well-equipped to converse on a variety of topics'."

"Your husband knows how to fence?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Lessons since he was five," 

Charlie laughed in disbelief, "So these etiquette rules apply to the whole family?"

"Pretty much - his dad plays the violin. It's slightly different for women though. I think its archery instead of fencing - don't ask me why because I have no idea,"

"Is he a noble? With family rules like that, it wouldn't surprise me. Are you Lady Malfoy?" he joked.

"Only to people who don't know me," she quipped, winking, "come and help me with cake,"

They sang happy birthday, James blew out the candles, and then ate unevenly cut slices and listened to old records.

"So, you've kind of achieved happy ever after here, haven't you?" Charlie said. He and Rose were standing in the corner of the living room, their plates (now empty of cake) sat discarded on the windowsill.

"Yeah," Rose said, looking over to her husband, who had a child in each arm, "yeah, I suppose I have. You have too, though, you know, Lily and everything,"

"Yeah," he said, smiling. And then he hugged her in a way he'd never hugged her before. It reminded her of the way her dad hugged her; it was a sturdy embrace, a hug that felt like he was afraid one of them would fall apart if he let go. And then suddenly he did and walked to the other side of the room where he laced his fingers into Lily's, and neither of them crumbled.