“My mum says there’s no such thing as bad wishes or bad feelings. She says what you actually do is more important than what you just think about,” Enid told him. “You’re allowed to be upset, or nervous, or angry. I wouldn’t blame you for being angry. It sounds like your dad and your mum are arguing about you without asking you how you feel.”
Just because Scorpius was only eight years old didn’t mean he couldn’t have his own opinions. If Uncle Draco and Astoria really wanted to do what was best for their son, they needed to listen to him first.
She tugged Scorpius a little closer and said, “Maybe you could tell her that spending the summer with her feels like too much all at once? That you think she needs to start smaller? I mean, I can’t promise she’ll listen, but at least you’ll have said it, yeah?”
Enid would have suggested asking her own mum to intervene on Scorpius’ behalf, but she paid too much attention to things to genuinely think that was a good idea. She’d already noticed that Astoria didn’t seem to like her mum very much.
“ I’m not ...” angry, he began. The word remained unspoken -- a lie, but Scorpius was not a liar and he wouldn’t start now, not with Enid. A deep breath filled his small form, chest slowly rising and falling a great distance.
He was angry. He was angry that his mum wasn’t how he pictured her, he was angry that she left, angry that she came back, angry that he hadn’t known her his entire life... Scorpius was angry, but it was a soggy anger. An anger that’d been left out in the rain and forgotten.
“ I don’t know how I feel. All I know is, I want things to go back to how they were.” Scorpius began again, his fingers pulling at a loose strand on the arm of his favorite jumper. It began to unravel. He could hear Aunt Pansy’s playfully scolding voice somewhere in the back of his head going on about treating the things you like nicely, but it didn’t matter, because everything was changing and tomorrow he may very well hate this jumper.
Scorpius wanted to spwnd his summer reading in the garden and listen to his father tinker in the study through the open window. He wanted to get ice cream with his nan, and spend weekends with Owen, Enid, and Auntie Theo. But none of that seemed to matter.
“ Maybe...” he continued, voice an unbalanced teeter-totter. Enid was right, he needed to let his dad and mum-not-mum know how he felt. He needed to be brave. “ I think telling my dad first might be better. He listens -- well, he tires to listen anyway. Then when he knows I’ll tell her. ”