R.W.

I must admit, I was surprised he talked first. For goodness sake, what the bloody hell was he staring out the window like a glum moron for if he was looking for a conversation? Whatever the logic to that may be, at least they were talking and she didn’t have to sit for two hours in an awkward silence.

After she mumbled out her name in a panicky, totally unprofessional way, the boy- Scorpius?- seemed to lighten up a bit. The boy was currently talking about the mysterious weather when I decided I better take the conversation in my own hands to help the poor bloke out.

“So, if I’m not to use your full name, Scorpius,” He grimaced at his birth-given name. “Then what am I to call you?”

He twisted his lips and seemed to be in deep thought.

“Didn’t quite think of that. My father calls me by my full name, but I hate it. Unfortunately, it seems like ‘Scorpius’ is one of those names that can never have a good nickname…”

“Scorp?” I tried. He shook his head fervently.

“Scorpio? Like the Muggle astrological sign?”

He looked at me like I had just sprouted another nose. Then he nodded.

“I guess so, since that’s probably the best one possible”

“Okay,” I put on a big smile and reached out to shake his hand. “Just call me Rose.”

He shook my hand and for a fleeting moment it almost felt like it could mean something, like we could be friends, but it went away quickly. Scorpio had that gloomy look in his eyes again. What was wrong?

S.M.

For a moment there, I thought we could be friends, we would have nicknames for each other, and we would have inside jokes or whatever friends are supposed to do. That was until I realized who she was. Obviously, she hasn’t recognized me yet. If she had, she would have ran like the wind into another carriage.

I didn’t quite put everything together until I shook her hand. The flaming red hair and billions of freckles, her properness, her intelligence, just like her mother… Must be a Weasley.

Rose moved her trunk closer to her and her cat’s cage fell on her foot, along with a deafening screech from said cat. “Bloody hell,” she cursed under her breath. Ah, yes, my father always avoided saying it, and he grew cold whenever I said it. It must have reminded him too much of the Weasleys.

Personally, I have nothing against the Weasleys. Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley seem like brave, noble people. But I can’t ignore my ancestry, can I? Even if my father has changed from who he was shaped to be in his childhood, he can’t shake the concrete disgust of the Weasleys. That’s how he was brought up. Maybe it wasn’t how he taught me specifically, but my heritage precedes me.

But-

But-

No-

She doesn’t know who I am. But I have to tell her don’t I? I have to tell her, because if I cheat her and lie, then I’ll just confirm my reputation. That I’m a scoundrel, a dirty little liar never to be trusted.

But if I don’t tell her, maybe we could be friends still, and later it won’t matter what my last name is.

What am I supposed to do?

*Author's note*

Hey guys my name is Maeve and I am super sorry that there was such a huge break between the chapters. The second chapter has actually been uploaded to fanfiction.net under the same username as on here (staringbackatme) but I haven't been uploading regularly at ALL. whoops. I have been excpetionally busy haha. I am planning to also post the 3rd chapter within a week. 

I think my upload day will be Sundays. This way, I will have all week to write it (and I'm usually free Saturdays, so I could just write it then if I forget (; ). 

Happy Easter! Feel free to review, because I'd love feedback so I can improve my writing