2nd chances (Scorose)

Chapter 38

A/N: Hey! Here's the first bonus chapter: Scorpius' POV of telling his parents about Rose. I hope you like what I've written and I'd love to know what you think about it. Some things may surprise some of you, but they might not, who knows. I've tried to link this chapter as closely as I can with Chapters 14, 15 and 16 of the story, but I hope it's not too repetitive. Anyway, read on.

I was going home for the Christmas holidays. I was going to do it. I was going to tell my parents that I was going out with Rose Weasley. After seeing Rose's cousins' reactions, I was sure that I had to tell my parents and get it out of the way. They might not like what I had to say, but it was better than them finding out from someone else, wasn't it?

My parents took me home from Kings Cross Station by sidelong apparition - they hated driving Muggle cars or using public transport. My parents weren't so bad as my grandparents, however, who refused to even think about buying a car or travelling any other way except by floo, broomstick or apparition while my mother would sometimes arrange for a Ministry car to take us to Kings Cross Station so I could go to school. It wasn't always possible though, given how disgraced our family name had become since the fall of Voldemort.

Oddly, my father seemed in a more cheerful mood than usual, humming Christmas songs like Cauldron Crackers and the Twitching Turkey. As soon as we got home, he sent my trunk upstairs and then headed to the kitchen to turn the radio on. Stifling laughter at him singing along, I followed my trunk up the stairs and began to unpack my belongings. Of course, Mother wasn't content to leave me to my own devices. After preparing some dinner and beginning to cook it with a few spells that she'd never taught me, she appeared at my bedroom door and began helping me create a pile of clothes that needed washing.

I hadn't noticed I was humming to myself as I shoved pile after pile of t-shirts into the chest of drawers in my bedroom, but my mother did.

"You seem happy," she commented, giving me what was probably meant to be a smile though she'd spent so many years frowning that it seemed her facial muscles were stuck that way.

I shrugged. I guess I was happy. Rose made me happy, well certainly happier than I'd ever been before. I'd been miserable when I was friends with Veronica and some of the other Slytherins. They all expected me to live up to my family's reputation and hate the Muggleborns, but I didn't. I didn't know why I was so different from my family and from them, but I was and it wasn't something I could change.

Downstairs the alarm my mother must have set to tell her when she needed to check on dinner or do something rang and she left me to continue emptying my trunk of clothes.

When I was finished, I stared out my bedroom window, watching as Mr Withers - one of our neighbors - snuck out his wand and began using it to water his plants. It was odd living in our small village. There were a few Muggles to talk to, but oddly it seemed that the place was merely filled with adults. There was no-one of my own age, only a toddler and an annoying seven year old.

Growing bored, I shoved my now empty trunk under my bed and went downstairs. The radio was still playing, though my father was now sat in the living room with a paper, still singing along. I flopped into one of the arm chairs just as my mother came in to tell us that dinner would be ready in a few minutes.

"Scorpius, go and change out of those horrid, Muggle clothes this instant," she scolded.

Sighing, I got back to my feet and returned to my bedroom, leafing through the things in my wardrobe and chest of drawers to find either some robes that weren't too small or at least something smart.

I was supposed to always look smart in either a suit jacket or at least a shirt, but whenever I was going to be in the Muggle world, Mother grudgingly allowed me to fit in and copy their fashions. That meant I was allowed a pair of blue skinny jeans, a few plain t-shirts and a leather jacket. I wore them whenever I could, preferring them to the smart clothes that made me, a fifteen year old, look ridiculous. I often felt like a member of a Muggle band when I wore my cool, Muggle clothes too.