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“The big day is just around the corner.”

“Your parents must be so proud, Rose.”

“Aren’t you excited?”

No. Rose was decidedly not excited. The giddy anticipation she had once experienced had recently been invaded by an intermingling of doubts and insomnia, making excitement a far distant feeling. Every time she had slowed her thoughts enough to perhaps sleep, another worry would arrive to distract her. This was the day she should be looking forward to more than any other, but all she could feel was uncertainty. Her family, excluding Al, all seemed beyond jubilant about it. As each day passed, one more enthusiastic thought would somehow be turned into a panic inducing horror. The night before was the very worst she had experienced.

Around midnight Rose had fussed over whether she should wear her robes or not. She got out of bed to look them over, and decided that she’d not be out of place wearing them once on the train. At two thirty-five she decided to read up on the four houses and make sure she would definitely be a Gryffindor. At four forty-seven she checked to see if all her pertinent books were packed: this compelled her to organize them alphabetically by topic, which took over an hour.

By the time the sun was rising, Rose found herself absolutely compelled to reorganize her school supplies, minus the already alphabetized books. Remembering how James had managed to make all his new robes speckled with a sickly purple colour thanks to his haphazard packing of ingredients, she vigilantly made sure her potions ingredients were stowed so they wouldn’t leak into her belongings.

Only around seven was she finally able to doze off. She was having a strange dream where Mum and Dad had decided to disown her for becoming a Ravenclaw when she heard a piercing squeal of “ROSIE!” A heavy weight landed on her stomach, both waking her up and forcing all the air out of her lungs.

“Hugo!” she grunted with half-closed eyes.

He sat on her stomach and a look of innocent merriment played across his face. He seemed completely unaware of her discomfort. Rose tried to recover with the dignity and decorum her mother would have liked. She took a deep breath to calm herself, and abandoned the course of decorum for repeatedly hitting her little brother as hard as she could with her pillow.

“You’re going to HOGWARTS!” he giggled gleefully, unfazed by the pillow repeatedly beating his mop of unruly red hair. “It’s the best place ever and you’re getting to go there today, and be sorted, and learn stuff, and meet people, and do things!”

“Don’t ever jump on me while I’m sleeping,” she said, putting him in a loose chokehold and leading him to the door.

“But, Hogwarts, Rosie, Hogwarts! You’ll get to use your wand, and be sorted, and meet people!” Hugo said breathlessly as she tried to wrestle him out the door.

“You said that already. Now get out of my room, Hugo.”

“But––”

“Out, out, out!” she declared, slamming the door behind him.

“No slamming doors!” she heard Mum call from below.

“Yes Mum,” she called back.

Seeing the time, Rose hurriedly put on her muggle clothes, her robes, tied her large amount of red hair back with her favourite blue ribbon, and then ran down the wooden stairs for breakfast.

Dad read the paper while munching on what looked like his fifth helping of toast, gauging by the heaping pile of crusts seated at his elbow. Mum was scratching a purring Crookshanks who was sitting in Hugo’s long abandoned chair. The sound of him running back and forth upstairs and the occasional cry of ‘Hogwarts!’ abrasively fell down to their ears. Mum and Dad both ignored him with the ease only veteran parents could.

“I wish you wouldn’t let the cat sit at the table. I always manage to get some of his fur in my eggs,” said Dad from behind the Quidditch section of the paper.

“How do you know it’s not your own hair? You’re both ginger haired after all,” Said Mum with a smile.

“Half of it is grey, Hermione.”

“Like I said, how do you know it’s not your own hair?”

Dad gave her a scowl he immediately belied with a fond smile.

“Last I checked there are no grey hairs on my head, thank you very much.”

“Ron is just jealous. He’s not as distinguished as you are, Crookshanks.”

Dad gave a huff. Mum laughed and continued to scratch the ancient cat’s chin, making no attempt to stop the cat from putting his paws on the table.

“With the way you let him get away with things, he’ll take Rosie’s place at the table within a day, and by the time she’s back for the holidays, he’ll have taken MY place.”

Crookshanks took this as a cue to walk across the table to sit in Mum’s lap, all the while throwing haughty glances towards Dad.

“Oh you nasty old beast,” Dad muttered.

Rose sat at her place and started to dole some eggs onto her plate. They were still warm, as Mum always remembered to put a warming charm on their food in the mornings. Rose never seemed to be able to wake up as early as the rest of the family. The thought of her penchant for sleeping in leading to her expulsion flitted about in the transom of her mind, making her stomach lurch. She opted to force her way through the nausea, and started to shovel the eggs into her mouth with gusto.

“’Good morning’ to you too, Rose,” said Mum with a roll of her eyes. Rose swallowed the mouthful of eggs with a guilty look.

“Er, sorry. Thanks for keeping breakfast warm. Good morning. Nice weather,” Rose rattled off as she buttered her toast.

“Looking forward to today, eh?” said Dad, giving Rose a warm smile.

“Yeah,” she shakily said with as much energy as she could muster.

“You’re looking a bit pale,” said Mum.

“Didn’t sleep much,” she said, giving a shrug. Mum looked like she was about to placate her about worrying, so Rose quickly added, “I was too excited.”

“Of course you’re excited, you get to… oh how did Hugo say it?”

“‘Be sorted, and learn stuff, and meet people, and do things,’” her Mum recited.

Dad laughed.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say Hugo is more excited than either you or Al about going. He’s been talking about it non-stop for a week. Hermione, if he goes on for two, we’re turning him over to Mum.”

Rose silently hoped her parents wouldn’t notice how worried she was about school. She also wished they wouldn’t talk about it. Every time she was feeling remotely calm, someone would bring it up and get her mind in a tizzy again.

“What are you most excited about?” Mum inquired.

“Quidditch,” Rose supplied, stuffing a large piece of toast into her mouth. “Spiphing off whish. Whatch da Kidditch scorsh ferda Cannonsh?”

“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” Mum admonished as Dad perked up.

She had a long talk with Dad about how the Cannons were the superior team, despite their lack of wins over the past century. All the while her Mum put Rose’s unruly hair into a lovely plait and Hugo would occasionally interject nonsense moves he’d like to practice on the field.  When Mum had finished braiding, Dad tied Rose’s blue ribbon at the end of the plait.

“Blue for your eyes. Not any rival team or House,” he said, putting a finger to her nose.

“Ron!” Mum called out. “You know that any House or team is fine!”

“Hmm…” said Dad, waggling his eyebrows at Hugo.

“Gryffindor and Cannons forever!” Hugo cried on cue.

Mum rolled her eyes and went up the stairs to levitate Rose’s trunk to the car. Rose followed her up the stairs, but lingered behind to give her room one last look over.

As much as Rose was looking forward to learning magic, staring about her cheerfully painted room, she wasn’t all that keen to leave just yet. She enjoyed waking up to Hugo’s laughter every morning, listening to Mum and Dad playfully arguing as they made breakfast, and Crookshanks padding into her room to escape Hugo’s wild antics.

She felt a pang as she saw the blank eyes of her stuffed toys looking back at her. After much internal debate, she decided to not to take them, and felt heartily guilty for it. Mr Snuggles, her favourite toy bear whose nose had faded from black to brown, was the one she would miss the most. No one else would have a stuffed toy, though, so she’d have to make do. She fiercely cuddled Mr Snuggles and whispered a small apology before going down the stairs.

“Do you suppose everyone else will be wearing their robes at the station?”

“I don’t see why not,” Mum answered distractedly. Rose looked to see the surprising sight of Dad getting in the driver’s seat.

“Why is Dad driving? He doesn’t have a license.”

“Oh, he passed the test the other day. I don’t know how, but they gave your father a license… Ron, are you sure you want to drive?” Mum asked as they buckled their seatbelts.

“Quite,” Dad grinned, tossing his wallet into the backseat. “Look in there, you two.”

Inside was an ID with a very unflattering picture of Dad on it.

“Ooo! It’s plastic, Mum!” Hugo held it up into the sun to inspect it, making it glare into Rose’s eyes.

“Got it only yesterday. Was certified a few weeks back,” said Dad jauntily.

“I still don’t know why you wouldn’t let me go along with you for the test.” Mum was looking the card over as if it were somehow deranged. “Buckle those belts tight, you two!”

“Oh come on, Hermione. I’m a good driver,” said Dad pulling out of the driveway, and hitting a garden gnome that let out a string of curses for him.

By the end of their ride Rose was fairly convinced the card was a forgery and that Dad had never taken a driving test of any sort. They had nearly collided with no less than three cars, two busses, and five pedestrians by the time they arrived at the station. Somehow he always avoided them, though, which made Rose suspect he had mercifully charmed the car.  When they parked Hugo asserted how Dad should always drive (“That was wicked!”) while Rose and Mum clamoured to get out of the death trap.

“I’m driving back,” Mum stated very firmly. “Who in the world gave you the license?”

“A Mr Applefinch.”

“Did you Confund him?”

“Hermione, how could you ask that?” said Dad in a low voice, leaning in and giving her a kiss.

“Well, you did park well.”

Mum flushed and gave him a smile that made Rose want to already be on the train and miles away. Luckily Hugo was too busy trying to stand on the back of the cart he’d just pushed to notice the soppy looks passing between her parents.

They reached the pillar for Platform Nine and Three-Quarters rather quickly, and Hugo pushed her cart through the barrier without prompting, which earned him a quick scolding from Mum for not looking for Muggles first.

The steam obscured most of the people bustling about the platform, making the gleaming red locomotive an even more majestic sight. The way the sun glistened and made the steam become shining white ribbons was perfectly entrancing.

Rose was pulled out of her stupor by the sound of Dad saying, “How about that last carriage?”

Mum and Hugo stayed next to the train and Rose and Dad boarded the train. He found her a compartment and put her trunk in the rack with a quick wave of his wand.

“Lots of memories on this train. It’s where I met your Mum, Harry, and Neville.”

“Yeah,” said Rose, looking to her feet. She felt nerves tingling up her spine.

“You OK?” asked Dad.

Rose had so much she could say, but didn’t know how she could possibly put it into words.

“Rosie?” said Dad rather quietly, sitting in one of the seats so he could look her directly in the eye.

She shook her head and suddenly felt her eyes begin to sting.

“I was nervous before I went to Hogwarts too, you know.”

She gave him a sceptical look.

“Really, I was. I had five older brothers who had all done everything a person can do. They’d already been prefects, Head Boy, Quidditch Captain, and then the twins were about the funniest most popular people at the school. All I had was a nasty old rat for a pet, hand me down clothes, and the ability to play a mean game of chess.”

“But you’re a hero, Daddy,” Rose let out. “You were fighting Voldemort in your first year!”

Dad looked surprised at her outburst, then gave her a smile.

“Is that what’s worrying you?”

Rose stared at him with wide, pleading eyes.

“Rosie, you’re my wild girl. You know how good you are at Quidditch, and how smart and pretty you are.” Rose rolled her eyes at that last bit.

“How could you possibly be nervous when you have everything going for you?”

“I’ll never be able to do what all you and Mum did.”

“What?  All I did was skate by with my grades, and all your Mum did was annoy everyone by being a know-it-all,” he said with a laugh.

“Dad…” Rose said.

Dad adopted a very sombre expression.

“No. You’ll never be able to fight Voldemort, and thank God for that. I couldn’t stand for my little girl to be off fighting trolls, camping with two teenage boys in the middle of a war, getting cursed at and tortured by Deatheaters…”

Dad looked out the window with a strange, slightly haunting look in his eyes.

“We did all that so you wouldn’t have to, Rosie. Don’t wish for anything like that.”

Rose put her hand in his much larger one, which seemed to jolt him out of his reverie.

“I’ll miss you, Daddy,” Rose said.

“No you won’t. You’ll get so distracted by everything we’ll have to remind you to write. But we’ll surely miss you, Rosie.”

He gave her braid a good-humoured tug.

They left the cabin together and went down the hallway.

“There you are!” Hugo popped out of nowhere; startling Dad and nearly making him slip down the steps of the train.

“You know you have to write to me and tell me about the people, and the ghosts, and the elves, and the portraits, and the stairs, and the spells! You’ll have to tell us everything!”

“Well, not everything. A girl can afford a secret or two,” said Mum with a smile, straightening Rose’s robes. “I hope they get here soon, it’s nearly time for the train to leave.”

“I think that’s them, Al,” they heard Aunt Ginny’s disembodied voice say in the mist.

They walked up to find Uncle Harry, Aunt Ginny, Al and Lily. James, who had a penchant for running off, was nowhere to be found.

“Hi,” said Al, his thin face looking quite relieved to see Rose. She gave him a large smile. Knowing she already had a best friend with her at school, even if he was family, made her feel even more at ease.

She heard Dad say something about disowning her if she wasn’t a Gryffindor, and though it was meant in a teasing fashion, she couldn’t bring herself to laugh. Al looked every bit as dubious as she about the sorting.

“Look who it is,” said Dad to Uncle Harry. “So that’s little Scorpius.”

Rose stood on her toes to try and finally see the name she had heard Uncle Harry and Dad laughing about a few times before, but all she could see was the tall figure Mr Malfoy and his pretty wife’s dark hair. She had occasionally seen the Malfoys in Diagon Alley, but had never met their son.

She couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to marry Mr Malfoy after all he did in The War, despite what Mum had said about forgiving him for the mistakes he made as a ‘child.’ The thought that such a man could have children made her shudder. He had even named his son something that sounded like a fatal disease, or terrible monster that would eat off children’s toes.

“Make sure you beat him in every test, Rosie. Thank God you inherited your mothers brains,” said Dad.

“Ron, for heaven’s sake. Don’t try to turn them against each other before they’ve even started school,” Mum admonished.

“You’re right, sorry,” said Dad, before quickly adding, “Don’t get too close too friendly with him, though, Rosie. Grandpa Weasley would never forgive you if you married a pureblood.”

Rose intended on never speaking to the son of the Malfoys; that much she was very certain of. He’d probably be mentally subnormal too, so beating him at tests should prove to be very easy. As for marriage- the idea of ever marrying anyone was appalling. No one would ever be able to measure up to Dad, Granpa Weasley, and her assortment of Uncles. She never wanted to be married, unlike Lily and the other girls who had sets of dolls in wedding dresses and played house. She preferred playing with the boys, digging in the dirt, and playing Quidditch.

Now that she was standing in front of the train Rose was getting fairly desperate to board it. The curiosity was getting the better of her, and she also wanted to escape all the family talking about Hogwarts. Even though Dad had comforted her quite a lot, she could only think of how with every test they’d be expecting her to demonstrate her mother’s intelligence and her father’s ingenuity. Of course, her expectations were nothing compared to Al’s, who looked so much like his father that strangers would occasionally look to his brow for the scar. Al was looking paler than usual today, and Rose assumed he was thinking about the Quidditch expectations. James hadn’t ever seemed bothered by the same worries, which was an annoying habit of his.

“Hey!”

Interrupting conversations loudly was another slightly annoying habit of his.

“Teddy’s back there. Just seen him! And guess what he’s doing? Snogging Victoire!”

No one was particularly surprised besides James. Rose had already had a notion that the two of them were involved, considering how they’d been doing uncomfortably romantic things. Lily was the only one who actually had a reaction to the news. She had been planning Teddy-nuptials for years, and Victoire conveniently fit into her intricate plan for him to be officially adopted into the family.

“Time to get on board, Rosie,” she heard her Mum say, as Uncle Harry and his boisterous family animatedly chatted off to the side.

“Bye Mum,” Rose said, giving her a tight hug. “Any advice?”

“Just be yourself, no matter what,” said Mum, placing a kiss on her cheek.

Hugo gave her an arm-numbing hug, before biting his lip so as not to get emotional. Dad was the last to step in and give her a hug.

“Just promise you’ll blow all my grades clear out of the water, eh Rosie?” said Dad.

“I promise,” Rose laughed, remembering how Mum had always said he would have made a great scholar if he weren’t thoroughly uninterested in studying. Dad kissed Rose on the head, the turned her to the train carriage.

As she stepped onto the train, it gave a low whistle, and for a moment the steam coming from the locomotive blocked the sight of her many relatives, but out of the mist barrelled James, and then Al.

“Why are they all staring?”

Rose looked about to that many people, both on and off the train were, unsurprisingly, staring at Uncle Harry. She had been used to this phenomenon for years now and had learned to ignore it, but for some reason it always made Al get agitated and take notice.

“Don’t let it worry you. It’s me. I’m extremely famous,” Dad said with a quirked eyebrow, making them all laugh a bit. He always knew how to diffuse a situation with humour.

The train let out one last whistle before the train gave a small shudder and began to move.

Lily was starting to look red faced and upset as she waved; she’d be all alone this year, after all. Dad was holding up Hugo whose curly red hair merrily bounced with every wave of his hand. Not too far away from the crowd of her family, she spotted Teddy, his blue hair making him anything but inconspicuous. He seemed to be waving at another part of the train, though. He had a besotted look on his face, which meant he was waving at Victoire. Rose looked away, feeling embarrassed to intrude on this private moment between the couple.

James, who had gone off to see his friends, once again returned to the door. He gave furtive looks to make sure none of his friends were about, before wedging himself between Rose and Al, spastically waving and nearly hitting Rose in the face with his elbow.  Al’s spirit, which had been very uncertain earlier, seemed to have perked up.

Rose and Al were all smiles as they shouted their goodbyes.

“Bye Mum! Bye Dad! Bye Lily! Bye Uncle Ron! Bye Aunt Hermione! Bye Hugo! Bye Teddy! See you at Christmas!”

Mum threw a kiss to them and Dad gave a somewhat bittersweet grin he saved for ‘His Rosie’ every time she did anything that gave any indication she was growing up. The train began to pick up speed and the waving mass of redheads was lost amongst the crowd of other parents and siblings.

When the train rounded the corner, James gave a great stretch and patted them both on the back.

“Well, I’m off. Places to go. Funerals to arrange. See you at the execution— I mean the sorting ceremony!”

James was gone so fast neither Rose nor Al had time to utter a syllable back. The duo stood there, a bit like lost goslings, before returning to their compartment and taking a seat on either bench seat.  Neither pair of feet quite reached the ground, though Rose’s was considerably closer than Al’s. Rose couldn’t help thinking of the sorting ceremony thanks to James, and now the only thought occupying her mind was how she didn’t want to disappoint her parents, especially Dad.

“Want to play some Exploding Snap?”

“No.”

When Rose was younger she quite enjoyed the game. It’s loud explosions were always fun to watch, but due to her large amount of wild hair, she hadn’t been able to escape any explosion without at least one lock of hair on fire, which made her have very little affinity for the hazardous game. The fact that she was a fierce competitor and had never managed to win the game against anyone remotely good at it had no bearing on her loathing of the game.

“You just don’t want to play because you can’t win at it,” Al teased, making Rose’s cheeks turn a deep shade of red.

“That’s not it at all,” she said primly.

“It is!”

“Fine! Try and keep your eyebrows if you can!” she said with more bravado than she felt.
And so they played, she received yet another bad hand, and the smell of burning hair wafted around the cabin.

Rose was swatting at a particularly large flare when she noticed a small blonde figure, all in black, struggling to pull his trunk past their compartment door. His robes resembled the stuffy attires she’d seen some of the Grimmauld Place portraits wearing.

“Hah! That means I win again! It’s a good thing we weren’t playing for money, or you’d be completely bust, Rose!” Al laughed, rearranging the smoking deck.

They played another round or two. Rose had lost count of how many times he’d trumped her total, and was thinking of trying out her wand for the first time on his face.  She was about to tell Al as much when the small blonde’s head bobbed incredibly slowly past their compartment again. He was giving grunts of excursion as he dragged his large trunk behind him a second time. A frustrated look was plastered on his now pink-cheeked face.

Rose caught his eye for a moment. He quickly shifted his large grey eyes back to his trunk and dragged it away from their door as expeditiously as he could. Why didn’t he have a compartment? The train had left the station over half an hour ago.

“It’s your turn,” Al prodded. How he hadn’t noticed the boy outside their compartment, she wasn’t quite sure.

“If you don’t go soon, your cards are going to explode.”

It couldn’t have been easy for that blonde boy to lug his trunk up and down the passage, especially on his own. Perhaps she should go talk to him.

“Rose! Your deck!”

“What?”

With a loud bang her entire deck detonated, and purple tendrils of smoke blew into her face.

“Blast!” she coughed.

Rose exclaimed a few choice insults she’d heard from Dad, before sucking at her fingers that were burning something fierce.

“Whoever invented this game was completely mental!”

“Probably,” Al agreed sombrely.

“Want to play again?” Al asked, a wide satisfied grin on his face. He had somehow managed not to singe himself at all, while Rose looked like she had just escaped a burning building.

“No! I’d like to not be bald when we get sorted,” Rose bit out, trying to separate the tips of her burnt locks that had fallen out of her braid.

“At the rate you were losing, you’d probably be bald in the next five minutes or so, yeah,” he laughed, gathering up the scattered cards.

“I’m going to see where the food cart is!” Rose bit out, mostly as an afterthought, grasping for an excuse for a brief reprieve from the explosions and teasing.

She slid open the compartment door and saw the same blonde boy sitting on his trunk at the end of the train car’s small corridor. He looked quite lonely reading the book in his lap, his old fashioned black cloak up to his chin.

Rose cleared her throat and he glanced up from his book in surprise, but then looked to some point on the floor behind her.

“Your robe is smoking,” he said, pointing to the corner of her new robe that was indeed still slightly on fire.

Rose let out a yelp and beat at it with her hands before taking it off and stomping on it with her feet until the flames died out.

“I knew I shouldn’t have played that stupid game,” she said, giving the robe a small kick.

“Exploding Snap?” the boy queried.

“Yes.”

“I’m not all that good at it either.”

Rose felt a smile tug at the corner of her mouth.

“Though I don’t think I’ve ever managed to lose quite that badly,” he said with a smirk.

“Oh really?” Rose answered snippily.

“Not really. The last time I played Exploding Snap I burnt off my eyebrows and caught my father’s owl on fire.”

“You caught an owl on fire?”

“Yes,” he nodded, giving her a small grin. “Only a few tail feathers, though.”

She gave a hearty laugh in turn.

“That poor owl! Your parents must have been furious.”

“Not as furious as Angeus.”

“Angeus?”

“Our owl. He wouldn’t deliver anything for a week.” The boy gave her a playful beam she couldn’t help but return.

“Why don’t you come and sit with me and my cousin? We have plenty of room in there. He might try and pull you into a game of Exploding Snap, but besides that he’s fine.”

“Er… No,” he said, turning back to his book, looking suddenly sombre again. “That’s ok. I’m fine here, really.”

“What, in the corridor? You want to ride here the whole time? That’s bloody daft,” Rose giggled.

“I don’t have much of a choice,” he said with a furtive look to another compartment down the hall.

“Why? Do you have bad breath or something?”

“What? No!” He gave her an affronted look, before laughing.

Rose’s mouth twitched in amusement, but she put a stop to it almost as suddenly as the impulse came upon her. Her eyes had fallen to his trunk, and she suddenly knew full well why he couldn’t find a compartment. His name was emblazoned with gleaming silver letters.

Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy

Scorpius saw her fixated gaze, and flicked his cloak over the incriminating text. His pale cheeks started to flush as Rose stared at him.  This was the boy her father had warned her against. She had seen the looks pass between their parents whenever a Malfoy was mentioned; she knew the notorious reputation the Malfoys held and how no one in ‘good society’ would have a thing to do with them.

“Er… I said I’d check when the food cart is coming. Enjoy the rest of your book,” Rose said with a perfunctory smile. She picked up her singed robe and turned on her heel. She was ready to sprint away when she heard a small sigh from behind her as he opened his book again.

She thought back to the unimposing figure of Scorpius struggling to find a cabin, his large trunk in tow, and embarrassingly stuffy robes. Rose had never been met with anything but well wishes and fond compliments about her parents. The idea of getting rejected from every place just because of her heritage was a foreign and uncomfortable thought.

“I thought you were going to check on the food cart,” he said quietly.

She had no idea how long she had been standing there, thinking, but she now felt thoroughly ashamed of herself.

“I’m not all that hungry… I just wanted an excuse to get away from my cousin.”

“And me,” Scorpius added in a very matter-of-fact tone.

“Yes, ‘and you,’” she said shrugging. She suddenly decided her shoes were the most interesting things she’d ever seen.  He stared at her with an inscrutable expression that made her quite nervous.

“I’ve been told it’s daft to sit in a hallway for the whole ride. I suppose standing there would count too,” he said, before smiling at her in a sly sort of way.

“What’s really daft is wearing those robes,” Rose teased.

“What’s wrong with them?”

“Nothing, if you’re a vicar.”

“Well, at least I managed to comb my hair today,” he teased back.

“Ouch. That was ruthless.”

“Yes, I thought so.”

“It looked nice at one point.”

“Of course.”

“Rose Weasley,” she said offering him a hand he took quite lightly before shaking.

“Scorpius Malfoy.”

Description
“The big day is just around the corner.”

“Your parents must be so proud, Rose.”

“Aren’t you excited?”

No. Rose was decidedly not excited. The giddy anticipation she had once experienced had recently been invaded by an intermingling of doubts and insomnia, making excitement a far distant feeling. Every time she had slowed her thoughts enough to perhaps sleep, another worry would arrive to distract her. This was the day she should be looking forward to more than any other, but all she could feel was uncertainty. Her family, excluding Al, all seemed beyond jubilant about it. As each day passed, one more enthusiastic thought would somehow be turned into a panic inducing horror. The night before was the very worst she had experienced.

Around midnight Rose had fussed over whether she should wear her robes or not. She got out of bed to look them over, and decided that she’d not be out of place wearing them once on the train. At two thirty-five she decided to read up on the four houses and make sure she would definitely be a Gryffindor. At four forty-seven she checked to see if all her pertinent books were packed: this compelled her to organize them alphabetically by topic, which took over an hour.

By the time the sun was rising, Rose found herself absolutely compelled to reorganize her school supplies, minus the already alphabetized books. Remembering how James had managed to make all his new robes speckled with a sickly purple colour thanks to his haphazard packing of ingredients, she vigilantly made sure her potions ingredients were stowed so they wouldn’t leak into her belongings.

Only around seven was she finally able to doze off. She was having a strange dream where Mum and Dad had decided to disown her for becoming a Ravenclaw when she heard a piercing squeal of “ROSIE!” A heavy weight landed on her stomach, both waking her up and forcing all the air out of her lungs.

“Hugo!” she grunted with half-closed eyes.

He sat on her stomach and a look of innocent merriment played across his face. He seemed completely unaware of her discomfort. Rose tried to recover with the dignity and decorum her mother would have liked. She took a deep breath to calm herself, and abandoned the course of decorum for repeatedly hitting her little brother as hard as she could with her pillow.

“You’re going to HOGWARTS!” he giggled gleefully, unfazed by the pillow repeatedly beating his mop of unruly red hair. “It’s the best place ever and you’re getting to go there today, and be sorted, and learn stuff, and meet people, and do things!”

“Don’t ever jump on me while I’m sleeping,” she said, putting him in a loose chokehold and leading him to the door.

“But, Hogwarts, Rosie, Hogwarts! You’ll get to use your wand, and be sorted, and meet people!” Hugo said breathlessly as she tried to wrestle him out the door.

“You said that already. Now get out of my room, Hugo.”

“But––”

“Out, out, out!” she declared, slamming the door behind him.

“No slamming doors!” she heard Mum call from below.

“Yes Mum,” she called back.

Seeing the time, Rose hurriedly put on her muggle clothes, her robes, tied her large amount of red hair back with her favourite blue ribbon, and then ran down the wooden stairs for breakfast.

Dad read the paper while munching on what looked like his fifth helping of toast, gauging by the heaping pile of crusts seated at his elbow. Mum was scratching a purring Crookshanks who was sitting in Hugo’s long abandoned chair. The sound of him running back and forth upstairs and the occasional cry of ‘Hogwarts!’ abrasively fell down to their ears. Mum and Dad both ignored him with the ease only veteran parents could.

“I wish you wouldn’t let the cat sit at the table. I always manage to get some of his fur in my eggs,” said Dad from behind the Quidditch section of the paper.

“How do you know it’s not your own hair? You’re both ginger haired after all,” Said Mum with a smile.

“Half of it is grey, Hermione.”

“Like I said, how do you know it’s not your own hair?”

Dad gave her a scowl he immediately belied with a fond smile.

“Last I checked there are no grey hairs on my head, thank you very much.”

“Ron is just jealous. He’s not as distinguished as you are, Crookshanks.”

Dad gave a huff. Mum laughed and continued to scratch the ancient cat’s chin, making no attempt to stop the cat from putting his paws on the table.

“With the way you let him get away with things, he’ll take Rosie’s place at the table within a day, and by the time she’s back for the holidays, he’ll have taken MY place.”

Crookshanks took this as a cue to walk across the table to sit in Mum’s lap, all the while throwing haughty glances towards Dad.

“Oh you nasty old beast,” Dad muttered.

Rose sat at her place and started to dole some eggs onto her plate. They were still warm, as Mum always remembered to put a warming charm on their food in the mornings. Rose never seemed to be able to wake up as early as the rest of the family. The thought of her penchant for sleeping in leading to her expulsion flitted about in the transom of her mind, making her stomach lurch. She opted to force her way through the nausea, and started to shovel the eggs into her mouth with gusto.

“’Good morning’ to you too, Rose,” said Mum with a roll of her eyes. Rose swallowed the mouthful of eggs with a guilty look.

“Er, sorry. Thanks for keeping breakfast warm. Good morning. Nice weather,” Rose rattled off as she buttered her toast.

“Looking forward to today, eh?” said Dad, giving Rose a warm smile.

“Yeah,” she shakily said with as much energy as she could muster.

“You’re looking a bit pale,” said Mum.

“Didn’t sleep much,” she said, giving a shrug. Mum looked like she was about to placate her about worrying, so Rose quickly added, “I was too excited.”

“Of course you’re excited, you get to… oh how did Hugo say it?”

“‘Be sorted, and learn stuff, and meet people, and do things,’” her Mum recited.

Dad laughed.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say Hugo is more excited than either you or Al about going. He’s been talking about it non-stop for a week. Hermione, if he goes on for two, we’re turning him over to Mum.”

Rose silently hoped her parents wouldn’t notice how worried she was about school. She also wished they wouldn’t talk about it. Every time she was feeling remotely calm, someone would bring it up and get her mind in a tizzy again.

“What are you most excited about?” Mum inquired.

“Quidditch,” Rose supplied, stuffing a large piece of toast into her mouth. “Spiphing off whish. Whatch da Kidditch scorsh ferda Cannonsh?”

“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” Mum admonished as Dad perked up.

She had a long talk with Dad about how the Cannons were the superior team, despite their lack of wins over the past century. All the while her Mum put Rose’s unruly hair into a lovely plait and Hugo would occasionally interject nonsense moves he’d like to practice on the field.  When Mum had finished braiding, Dad tied Rose’s blue ribbon at the end of the plait.

“Blue for your eyes. Not any rival team or House,” he said, putting a finger to her nose.

“Ron!” Mum called out. “You know that any House or team is fine!”

“Hmm…” said Dad, waggling his eyebrows at Hugo.

“Gryffindor and Cannons forever!” Hugo cried on cue.

Mum rolled her eyes and went up the stairs to levitate Rose’s trunk to the car. Rose followed her up the stairs, but lingered behind to give her room one last look over.

As much as Rose was looking forward to learning magic, staring about her cheerfully painted room, she wasn’t all that keen to leave just yet. She enjoyed waking up to Hugo’s laughter every morning, listening to Mum and Dad playfully arguing as they made breakfast, and Crookshanks padding into her room to escape Hugo’s wild antics.

She felt a pang as she saw the blank eyes of her stuffed toys looking back at her. After much internal debate, she decided to not to take them, and felt heartily guilty for it. Mr Snuggles, her favourite toy bear whose nose had faded from black to brown, was the one she would miss the most. No one else would have a stuffed toy, though, so she’d have to make do. She fiercely cuddled Mr Snuggles and whispered a small apology before going down the stairs.

“Do you suppose everyone else will be wearing their robes at the station?”

“I don’t see why not,” Mum answered distractedly. Rose looked to see the surprising sight of Dad getting in the driver’s seat.

“Why is Dad driving? He doesn’t have a license.”

“Oh, he passed the test the other day. I don’t know how, but they gave your father a license… Ron, are you sure you want to drive?” Mum asked as they buckled their seatbelts.

“Quite,” Dad grinned, tossing his wallet into the backseat. “Look in there, you two.”

Inside was an ID with a very unflattering picture of Dad on it.

“Ooo! It’s plastic, Mum!” Hugo held it up into the sun to inspect it, making it glare into Rose’s eyes.

“Got it only yesterday. Was certified a few weeks back,” said Dad jauntily.

“I still don’t know why you wouldn’t let me go along with you for the test.” Mum was looking the card over as if it were somehow deranged. “Buckle those belts tight, you two!”

“Oh come on, Hermione. I’m a good driver,” said Dad pulling out of the driveway, and hitting a garden gnome that let out a string of curses for him.

By the end of their ride Rose was fairly convinced the card was a forgery and that Dad had never taken a driving test of any sort. They had nearly collided with no less than three cars, two busses, and five pedestrians by the time they arrived at the station. Somehow he always avoided them, though, which made Rose suspect he had mercifully charmed the car.  When they parked Hugo asserted how Dad should always drive (“That was wicked!”) while Rose and Mum clamoured to get out of the death trap.

“I’m driving back,” Mum stated very firmly. “Who in the world gave you the license?”

“A Mr Applefinch.”

“Did you Confund him?”

“Hermione, how could you ask that?” said Dad in a low voice, leaning in and giving her a kiss.

“Well, you did park well.”

Mum flushed and gave him a smile that made Rose want to already be on the train and miles away. Luckily Hugo was too busy trying to stand on the back of the cart he’d just pushed to notice the soppy looks passing between her parents.

They reached the pillar for Platform Nine and Three-Quarters rather quickly, and Hugo pushed her cart through the barrier without prompting, which earned him a quick scolding from Mum for not looking for Muggles first.

The steam obscured most of the people bustling about the platform, making the gleaming red locomotive an even more majestic sight. The way the sun glistened and made the steam become shining white ribbons was perfectly entrancing.

Rose was pulled out of her stupor by the sound of Dad saying, “How about that last carriage?”

Mum and Hugo stayed next to the train and Rose and Dad boarded the train. He found her a compartment and put her trunk in the rack with a quick wave of his wand.

“Lots of memories on this train. It’s where I met your Mum, Harry, and Neville.”

“Yeah,” said Rose, looking to her feet. She felt nerves tingling up her spine.

“You OK?” asked Dad.

Rose had so much she could say, but didn’t know how she could possibly put it into words.

“Rosie?” said Dad rather quietly, sitting in one of the seats so he could look her directly in the eye.

She shook her head and suddenly felt her eyes begin to sting.

“I was nervous before I went to Hogwarts too, you know.”

She gave him a sceptical look.

“Really, I was. I had five older brothers who had all done everything a person can do. They’d already been prefects, Head Boy, Quidditch Captain, and then the twins were about the funniest most popular people at the school. All I had was a nasty old rat for a pet, hand me down clothes, and the ability to play a mean game of chess.”

“But you’re a hero, Daddy,” Rose let out. “You were fighting Voldemort in your first year!”

Dad looked surprised at her outburst, then gave her a smile.

“Is that what’s worrying you?”

Rose stared at him with wide, pleading eyes.

“Rosie, you’re my wild girl. You know how good you are at Quidditch, and how smart and pretty you are.” Rose rolled her eyes at that last bit.

“How could you possibly be nervous when you have everything going for you?”

“I’ll never be able to do what all you and Mum did.”

“What?  All I did was skate by with my grades, and all your Mum did was annoy everyone by being a know-it-all,” he said with a laugh.

“Dad…” Rose said.

Dad adopted a very sombre expression.

“No. You’ll never be able to fight Voldemort, and thank God for that. I couldn’t stand for my little girl to be off fighting trolls, camping with two teenage boys in the middle of a war, getting cursed at and tortured by Deatheaters…”

Dad looked out the window with a strange, slightly haunting look in his eyes.

“We did all that so you wouldn’t have to, Rosie. Don’t wish for anything like that.”

Rose put her hand in his much larger one, which seemed to jolt him out of his reverie.

“I’ll miss you, Daddy,” Rose said.

“No you won’t. You’ll get so distracted by everything we’ll have to remind you to write. But we’ll surely miss you, Rosie.”

He gave her braid a good-humoured tug.

They left the cabin together and went down the hallway.

“There you are!” Hugo popped out of nowhere; startling Dad and nearly making him slip down the steps of the train.

“You know you have to write to me and tell me about the people, and the ghosts, and the elves, and the portraits, and the stairs, and the spells! You’ll have to tell us everything!”

“Well, not everything. A girl can afford a secret or two,” said Mum with a smile, straightening Rose’s robes. “I hope they get here soon, it’s nearly time for the train to leave.”

“I think that’s them, Al,” they heard Aunt Ginny’s disembodied voice say in the mist.

They walked up to find Uncle Harry, Aunt Ginny, Al and Lily. James, who had a penchant for running off, was nowhere to be found.

“Hi,” said Al, his thin face looking quite relieved to see Rose. She gave him a large smile. Knowing she already had a best friend with her at school, even if he was family, made her feel even more at ease.

She heard Dad say something about disowning her if she wasn’t a Gryffindor, and though it was meant in a teasing fashion, she couldn’t bring herself to laugh. Al looked every bit as dubious as she about the sorting.

“Look who it is,” said Dad to Uncle Harry. “So that’s little Scorpius.”

Rose stood on her toes to try and finally see the name she had heard Uncle Harry and Dad laughing about a few times before, but all she could see was the tall figure Mr Malfoy and his pretty wife’s dark hair. She had occasionally seen the Malfoys in Diagon Alley, but had never met their son.

She couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to marry Mr Malfoy after all he did in The War, despite what Mum had said about forgiving him for the mistakes he made as a ‘child.’ The thought that such a man could have children made her shudder. He had even named his son something that sounded like a fatal disease, or terrible monster that would eat off children’s toes.

“Make sure you beat him in every test, Rosie. Thank God you inherited your mothers brains,” said Dad.

“Ron, for heaven’s sake. Don’t try to turn them against each other before they’ve even started school,” Mum admonished.

“You’re right, sorry,” said Dad, before quickly adding, “Don’t get too close too friendly with him, though, Rosie. Grandpa Weasley would never forgive you if you married a pureblood.”

Rose intended on never speaking to the son of the Malfoys; that much she was very certain of. He’d probably be mentally subnormal too, so beating him at tests should prove to be very easy. As for marriage- the idea of ever marrying anyone was appalling. No one would ever be able to measure up to Dad, Granpa Weasley, and her assortment of Uncles. She never wanted to be married, unlike Lily and the other girls who had sets of dolls in wedding dresses and played house. She preferred playing with the boys, digging in the dirt, and playing Quidditch.

Now that she was standing in front of the train Rose was getting fairly desperate to board it. The curiosity was getting the better of her, and she also wanted to escape all the family talking about Hogwarts. Even though Dad had comforted her quite a lot, she could only think of how with every test they’d be expecting her to demonstrate her mother’s intelligence and her father’s ingenuity. Of course, her expectations were nothing compared to Al’s, who looked so much like his father that strangers would occasionally look to his brow for the scar. Al was looking paler than usual today, and Rose assumed he was thinking about the Quidditch expectations. James hadn’t ever seemed bothered by the same worries, which was an annoying habit of his.

“Hey!”

Interrupting conversations loudly was another slightly annoying habit of his.

“Teddy’s back there. Just seen him! And guess what he’s doing? Snogging Victoire!”

No one was particularly surprised besides James. Rose had already had a notion that the two of them were involved, considering how they’d been doing uncomfortably romantic things. Lily was the only one who actually had a reaction to the news. She had been planning Teddy-nuptials for years, and Victoire conveniently fit into her intricate plan for him to be officially adopted into the family.

“Time to get on board, Rosie,” she heard her Mum say, as Uncle Harry and his boisterous family animatedly chatted off to the side.

“Bye Mum,” Rose said, giving her a tight hug. “Any advice?”

“Just be yourself, no matter what,” said Mum, placing a kiss on her cheek.

Hugo gave her an arm-numbing hug, before biting his lip so as not to get emotional. Dad was the last to step in and give her a hug.

“Just promise you’ll blow all my grades clear out of the water, eh Rosie?” said Dad.

“I promise,” Rose laughed, remembering how Mum had always said he would have made a great scholar if he weren’t thoroughly uninterested in studying. Dad kissed Rose on the head, the turned her to the train carriage.

As she stepped onto the train, it gave a low whistle, and for a moment the steam coming from the locomotive blocked the sight of her many relatives, but out of the mist barrelled James, and then Al.

“Why are they all staring?”

Rose looked about to that many people, both on and off the train were, unsurprisingly, staring at Uncle Harry. She had been used to this phenomenon for years now and had learned to ignore it, but for some reason it always made Al get agitated and take notice.

“Don’t let it worry you. It’s me. I’m extremely famous,” Dad said with a quirked eyebrow, making them all laugh a bit. He always knew how to diffuse a situation with humour.

The train let out one last whistle before the train gave a small shudder and began to move.

Lily was starting to look red faced and upset as she waved; she’d be all alone this year, after all. Dad was holding up Hugo whose curly red hair merrily bounced with every wave of his hand. Not too far away from the crowd of her family, she spotted Teddy, his blue hair making him anything but inconspicuous. He seemed to be waving at another part of the train, though. He had a besotted look on his face, which meant he was waving at Victoire. Rose looked away, feeling embarrassed to intrude on this private moment between the couple.

James, who had gone off to see his friends, once again returned to the door. He gave furtive looks to make sure none of his friends were about, before wedging himself between Rose and Al, spastically waving and nearly hitting Rose in the face with his elbow.  Al’s spirit, which had been very uncertain earlier, seemed to have perked up.

Rose and Al were all smiles as they shouted their goodbyes.

“Bye Mum! Bye Dad! Bye Lily! Bye Uncle Ron! Bye Aunt Hermione! Bye Hugo! Bye Teddy! See you at Christmas!”

Mum threw a kiss to them and Dad gave a somewhat bittersweet grin he saved for ‘His Rosie’ every time she did anything that gave any indication she was growing up. The train began to pick up speed and the waving mass of redheads was lost amongst the crowd of other parents and siblings.

When the train rounded the corner, James gave a great stretch and patted them both on the back.

“Well, I’m off. Places to go. Funerals to arrange. See you at the execution— I mean the sorting ceremony!”

James was gone so fast neither Rose nor Al had time to utter a syllable back. The duo stood there, a bit like lost goslings, before returning to their compartment and taking a seat on either bench seat.  Neither pair of feet quite reached the ground, though Rose’s was considerably closer than Al’s. Rose couldn’t help thinking of the sorting ceremony thanks to James, and now the only thought occupying her mind was how she didn’t want to disappoint her parents, especially Dad.

“Want to play some Exploding Snap?”

“No.”

When Rose was younger she quite enjoyed the game. It’s loud explosions were always fun to watch, but due to her large amount of wild hair, she hadn’t been able to escape any explosion without at least one lock of hair on fire, which made her have very little affinity for the hazardous game. The fact that she was a fierce competitor and had never managed to win the game against anyone remotely good at it had no bearing on her loathing of the game.

“You just don’t want to play because you can’t win at it,” Al teased, making Rose’s cheeks turn a deep shade of red.

“That’s not it at all,” she said primly.

“It is!”

“Fine! Try and keep your eyebrows if you can!” she said with more bravado than she felt.
And so they played, she received yet another bad hand, and the smell of burning hair wafted around the cabin.

Rose was swatting at a particularly large flare when she noticed a small blonde figure, all in black, struggling to pull his trunk past their compartment door. His robes resembled the stuffy attires she’d seen some of the Grimmauld Place portraits wearing.

“Hah! That means I win again! It’s a good thing we weren’t playing for money, or you’d be completely bust, Rose!” Al laughed, rearranging the smoking deck.

They played another round or two. Rose had lost count of how many times he’d trumped her total, and was thinking of trying out her wand for the first time on his face.  She was about to tell Al as much when the small blonde’s head bobbed incredibly slowly past their compartment again. He was giving grunts of excursion as he dragged his large trunk behind him a second time. A frustrated look was plastered on his now pink-cheeked face.

Rose caught his eye for a moment. He quickly shifted his large grey eyes back to his trunk and dragged it away from their door as expeditiously as he could. Why didn’t he have a compartment? The train had left the station over half an hour ago.

“It’s your turn,” Al prodded. How he hadn’t noticed the boy outside their compartment, she wasn’t quite sure.

“If you don’t go soon, your cards are going to explode.”

It couldn’t have been easy for that blonde boy to lug his trunk up and down the passage, especially on his own. Perhaps she should go talk to him.

“Rose! Your deck!”

“What?”

With a loud bang her entire deck detonated, and purple tendrils of smoke blew into her face.

“Blast!” she coughed.

Rose exclaimed a few choice insults she’d heard from Dad, before sucking at her fingers that were burning something fierce.

“Whoever invented this game was completely mental!”

“Probably,” Al agreed sombrely.

“Want to play again?” Al asked, a wide satisfied grin on his face. He had somehow managed not to singe himself at all, while Rose looked like she had just escaped a burning building.

“No! I’d like to not be bald when we get sorted,” Rose bit out, trying to separate the tips of her burnt locks that had fallen out of her braid.

“At the rate you were losing, you’d probably be bald in the next five minutes or so, yeah,” he laughed, gathering up the scattered cards.

“I’m going to see where the food cart is!” Rose bit out, mostly as an afterthought, grasping for an excuse for a brief reprieve from the explosions and teasing.

She slid open the compartment door and saw the same blonde boy sitting on his trunk at the end of the train car’s small corridor. He looked quite lonely reading the book in his lap, his old fashioned black cloak up to his chin.

Rose cleared her throat and he glanced up from his book in surprise, but then looked to some point on the floor behind her.

“Your robe is smoking,” he said, pointing to the corner of her new robe that was indeed still slightly on fire.

Rose let out a yelp and beat at it with her hands before taking it off and stomping on it with her feet until the flames died out.

“I knew I shouldn’t have played that stupid game,” she said, giving the robe a small kick.

“Exploding Snap?” the boy queried.

“Yes.”

“I’m not all that good at it either.”

Rose felt a smile tug at the corner of her mouth.

“Though I don’t think I’ve ever managed to lose quite that badly,” he said with a smirk.

“Oh really?” Rose answered snippily.

“Not really. The last time I played Exploding Snap I burnt off my eyebrows and caught my father’s owl on fire.”

“You caught an owl on fire?”

“Yes,” he nodded, giving her a small grin. “Only a few tail feathers, though.”

She gave a hearty laugh in turn.

“That poor owl! Your parents must have been furious.”

“Not as furious as Angeus.”

“Angeus?”

“Our owl. He wouldn’t deliver anything for a week.” The boy gave her a playful beam she couldn’t help but return.

“Why don’t you come and sit with me and my cousin? We have plenty of room in there. He might try and pull you into a game of Exploding Snap, but besides that he’s fine.”

“Er… No,” he said, turning back to his book, looking suddenly sombre again. “That’s ok. I’m fine here, really.”

“What, in the corridor? You want to ride here the whole time? That’s bloody daft,” Rose giggled.

“I don’t have much of a choice,” he said with a furtive look to another compartment down the hall.

“Why? Do you have bad breath or something?”

“What? No!” He gave her an affronted look, before laughing.

Rose’s mouth twitched in amusement, but she put a stop to it almost as suddenly as the impulse came upon her. Her eyes had fallen to his trunk, and she suddenly knew full well why he couldn’t find a compartment. His name was emblazoned with gleaming silver letters.

Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy

Scorpius saw her fixated gaze, and flicked his cloak over the incriminating text. His pale cheeks started to flush as Rose stared at him.  This was the boy her father had warned her against. She had seen the looks pass between their parents whenever a Malfoy was mentioned; she knew the notorious reputation the Malfoys held and how no one in ‘good society’ would have a thing to do with them.

“Er… I said I’d check when the food cart is coming. Enjoy the rest of your book,” Rose said with a perfunctory smile. She picked up her singed robe and turned on her heel. She was ready to sprint away when she heard a small sigh from behind her as he opened his book again.

She thought back to the unimposing figure of Scorpius struggling to find a cabin, his large trunk in tow, and embarrassingly stuffy robes. Rose had never been met with anything but well wishes and fond compliments about her parents. The idea of getting rejected from every place just because of her heritage was a foreign and uncomfortable thought.

“I thought you were going to check on the food cart,” he said quietly.

She had no idea how long she had been standing there, thinking, but she now felt thoroughly ashamed of herself.

“I’m not all that hungry… I just wanted an excuse to get away from my cousin.”

“And me,” Scorpius added in a very matter-of-fact tone.

“Yes, ‘and you,’” she said shrugging. She suddenly decided her shoes were the most interesting things she’d ever seen.  He stared at her with an inscrutable expression that made her quite nervous.

“I’ve been told it’s daft to sit in a hallway for the whole ride. I suppose standing there would count too,” he said, before smiling at her in a sly sort of way.

“What’s really daft is wearing those robes,” Rose teased.

“What’s wrong with them?”

“Nothing, if you’re a vicar.”

“Well, at least I managed to comb my hair today,” he teased back.

“Ouch. That was ruthless.”

“Yes, I thought so.”

“It looked nice at one point.”

“Of course.”

“Rose Weasley,” she said offering him a hand he took quite lightly before shaking.

“Scorpius Malfoy.”