Stay Different

Disclaimer: Until I become the supreme ruler of the universe, I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters in it.

I watch Scorpius as he boards the Hogwarts Express for the first time. Despite how much my son resembles me in looks, he doesn't remind me of myself at all when I was his age. I had boarded the Hogwarts Express confidently, for when I was his going to Hogwarts for the first time, Malfoy was one of the well respected surnames in England. Now, my name and my family are looked upon with disgust. More often than not, those around me whenever I leave the safe haven of Malfoy Manor whisper "Death Eater," or "You should be in Azkaban!" I ignored these people, but I can not pretend the words don't bring back painful memories.

As I watch my son pull his trunk up the train steps, I see no sign of the arrogance that clouded my mind at his age. Instead, his eyes dart nervously around, and I know the reason. Because of his similarity in looks to me, people have been prejudiced against Scorpius for his entire life. Several times, he's asked me what it means when people ask him if he's got a skull on his arm, but I can never bring myself to answer. I don't want him to know. My son has never seen the Dark Mark that still remains from when I was forced to be a Death Eater. I don't exactly try to hide it from him, but it's a piece of my history I'd rather leave behind. Even I try not to look at the mark that blemishes my otherwise pale skin. It's too painful of a reminder.

Watching Scorpius find a compartment, I hate myself even more than I already do. It isn't fair that my stupidity should be blamed on him. As a passing older student shoves Scorpius out of his way, I am reminded of myself, but not in my son. I find it strange that the student who angers me in the situation I am witnessing is the one that most resembles how I know I used to act instead of the one that is my spitting image. I look at my son, who does nothing. Despite his blond hair and grey eyes, Scorpius is not really like myself. He's not really a Malfoy. After waving goodbye to my son, I quietly turn to leave the platform. As I step through the barrier, I realize I am glad. I'm almost jealous of him. I wish I wasn't really a Malfoy either.