A/N: told from Astoria's point of view.

Scorpius. My son. Handsome. Respectable. Dashing. So it's hard to process what he's saying.

"I love her, and I'm marrying her," He tells me.

"Pardon?" I ask. He groans.

"I love her. Rose," He reminds me gently. I smile.

"So she's your princess, my little prince," I ask, cooing the way I did when he was little. My nineteen year old son does not seem to appreciate it.

"She's already pregnant, so of course she is," He points out. I nod.

"Now you have to convince your father," I smile. He groans but does not say anymore. That shut him up.