Rose Weasley and The Unfortunate Son of a Lunatic

A Long Awaited Ride

Scorpius Malfoy had gotten onto the train before most of the other kids in black robes or muggle clothes, bounding with excitement had. Unfortunate for Scorpius though, as he sat alone in the back compartment, uncomfortably aware of the eyes trailing him as they passed his glass door, was that he was eleven, eleven and already with a reputation that the world expected him to live to. Worse for this boy was that the reputation was not one to boast as the Potter-Weasleys had. In fact, it was one to be ashamed, and only to make this harder, was that he had nothing to do with creating it, but the status was his to bare.

In his case just beside his seat contained a variety of items such as pajamas, winter wear, shoes, books, a telescope, caldron and many such things that was supposed to be handed to the crew to be placed in the trains lower levels with the other luggage. However, it was lucky for Scorpius to have noticed a band of questionable students all feeling the trunks with slime and gunk as a clever joke. So, Scorpius' remained on the train with him. These questionable students wore green patches on their black robes and green and silver striped ties. This small detail made the boy feel sick. This detail being that he and those students had something in common; their trunks both contained clothes, winter wear, shoes, and quills that were green and silver. It had been decided before ever arriving to school that he would be doomed to share a house with those questionable Slytherins. Doomed? Well, perhaps not. Slytherin wasn't quite the dream house but there were perks and his father always warned him not to judge or conceive a solid idea of the house before he sees it. Before he sees it, as his father had resolved his son to be sorted into Slytherin already.

But Scorpius didn't think he was so cunning, conniving, resourceful, or determined. He had mentioned Hufflepuff not being so bad a couple weeks before term and his father had nearly fallen from his chair. But, it is what it is. When you're born into an infamous name that had been on the wrong side of the Great Wizarding war twice, it made no difference if a few apologized, but away that life and tried to lead a normal. It made no difference if you had been silent and away from the light ever since and now ran a successful business as stretched across the globe nor did it matter if one had been born after such events, never had a strike against him in pre-k through 5th grade, or that you were only an eleven year old boy, quiet and alone, shielding his face from the passersby so not to be victim of another act of parent revenge. If your last name was Malfoy, nothing of the sort made any difference from everyone's preconceived idea of you.

Scorpius peeked through the window then backed away fast. His parents were standing but three meters from his compartment, keeping a wondering eye for their only son. But Scorpius didn't dare reveal where he was. He didn't dare make a connection. Everyone around was staring at his father and his heart became angry because of it. If his father spotted him then the people surrounding would too. But it made no difference, yet again. He looked too much like his father to hide that fact. His face was pale and pointed, though, not as sharp as his dad's. His hair was a soft blond, mostly thin and straight but with a hint of his mother's curl that was usually forced away with gel or magic. He was gangling and awkward. "No, tall, Scorpius, you're just tall." No, ma, I'm just lanky. He even shared his father's steel grey eyes. His had inherited only his mother's fingernails, though that made no difference at all. No, none whatsoever. He sighed and rubbed at his eyes that had been open for six of his eight-hour night, freighting over this train ride.

He decided, with a look at how bulky his trunk was, that it ought to be placed on the top rack above his seat. He had neglected to do so before because he had decided that he wanted no one else to sit with him as they wouldn't if the majority of the seat was occupied by a massive trunk. But now, he wasn't so sure. To make a name for himself would be to talk to people and that had never been a problem until now. He lifted the trunk onto his arms. The immensely heavy object had him falter to his knees. He lifted the weight with a bead of sweat on his brow. What had his mother put in this thing? Forty-five pounds of her vile fruit cake by the feel of it. He struggled to lift the trunk where its bottom kissed the beam of the rack above, then broke that relationship and fell backward onto its rebound. Scorpius dropped the chest which crashed to the floor with an almighty BANG followed by a spurted curse word and Scorpius pulling his foot from underneath. He turned red-faced when his compartment door slid open.