Red and Yellow (Scorose)

'From Ancient Grudge Break To New Mutiny'

She had only been there a matter of weeks and yet Rose felt as though she had always lived at Hogwarts. The cobbled floors and pictured walls, the daily feasts and nightly parties, they all were natural parts of life. Though the halls were crowded with students and lorded over by teachers, it felt nothing like those muggle high schools Hugo and she had seen on the television. It felt like home and family. And she loved it.

History of Magic was by far her least favorite class. Everyone slept, even Rose, although not out of boredom, but for the fact that her mother had not turned to fairytales for bedtime stories, but to her beloved history books. Growing up on goblin wars and witch burnings, anything that Professor Binns said was old news.

But it wasn't only the lack of interest that made Rose hate this class, it was the fact that she shared it with the Slytherins. Rose was not one to judge by house, of course not, but when the only thing young boys can do is pelt your head with old Quibbler scraps, they don't hold back. All of Charms was spent brushing outrageous stories out of her hair and thinking about how offended Ms.Lovegood would be.

Herbology was in the afternoon. Professor Longbottom would let all the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors into the greenhouse with a wink at Albus and Rose, and they would line up along the tables to see the next horrors of botany. But it was impossible not to have fun; Professor Longbottom's enthusiasm was contagious.

Potions was the best class of all. Shared with the Ravenclaws, Professor Lackerty had them working hardest from the beginning. So many essays, so many mixtures, two students already had to send for new cauldrons, but all that was learned and all that was made was worth it. Albus hated it of course, and yes she had to write most of his parchments, but for some reason she loved it in the cold and smelly dungeon. Maybe she wasn't a true Gryffindor after all.

She saw him in the hallways and in the back of classes. Head down, mouth closed, he was alone and as sallow faced as ever. They had said his name was Scorpius. They had said his parents were criminals and he was dangerous. They had said he was destined for Slytherin and destined for darkness. But she didn't need to know his name anymore. That funny boy on the train wasn't bad or evil. He was just a normal person, maybe better than normal. Anyone who knew his name didn't know him at all.

And his face when the hat had said...

She would help him. She would find a way.
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Scorpius had never been so alone. Even at home where he was invisible and ignored it hadn't been so bad. Somehow loneliness grows when there are people around you who are laughing and smiling. It grows when you're no longer invisible, but some grotesque display for everyone to gawk at. Then you feel the barrier and know you can never have a friend. People aren't meant to like you. 

When they said his name people started whispering. The delinquent, the spawn of evil cowards, the devil. He knew it. When they put the hat on, all that went away. Just a peaceful darkness with the wisdom of ages humming above his head. Then it laughed. It laughed at him and said, "You know who you are. You know where you belong. Why must you keep pretending?"

And the shame of his lineage and his horrid reputation crept onto his face as he waited for the hat to tell them how he was evil. He waited for that fate he didn't want and the words meant for him to spill through the hall and set in stone the inescapable fact: Scorpius Malfoy was evil. And bad. And mean. And stupid. And stuck.

But it didn't. 

"RAVENCLAW!"

Everyone was quiet and everyone was confused. He was confused. And afraid. The hat was lifted from his eyes to reveal each table staring at him and daring him to tell them he had a right to be there. Betrayed by his Slytherin blood, his Ravenclaw title, his Gryffindor rivals, his Hufflepuff... Well, Hufflepuff just looked at him like scum. So he sat at the empty end of a silent table and didn't eat. He answered a riddle and went to his room and drew the curtains around his bed. He heard the other boys greeting each other and laughing together, but he knew he couldn't do it. He was nothing now.

What would his father think? Yes, Scorpius hated him, but what a disgrace. The first in the line of Malfoy's to ever not be Slytherin. He was a failure. As a son and a student and a person. He was always something wrong and now, the place so many misfits called home was his cage. 

Three weeks in and nothing had changed. No one moved on or got bored with their pointing fingers or whispering mouths. The Ravenclaw's viewed him as diseased, some curse set upon their house, and took to avoiding Scorpius at all costs. The left the common rooms and huddled in the dorms. He was partnerless and helpless, but he also realized that these children who were supposed to be so smart weren't intelligent at all. Look at them, eighth years running from the presence of an eleven year old, thinking that somehow this novice would whip out some unforgivable curse in the middle of a crowded hallway. And they thought he was a maniac.

But it was becoming a problem. Three weeks with barely any human interaction other than the occasional question answered. It's not like he was living it up back at home, but at least Winky would blurt out some stuttered speech as she folded the laundry. She was getting old, though. He had to help her with most of the work. Soon his only friend would be gone and it's not even like she was a real one. She was only forced to be.

Potions was the worst. Standing in the back, in the cold, learning some new useless recipe or other. When was he ever going to need to cure a cluster of festering boils? This dungeon was probably where he should be, talking with other boys about how they're so much better than the other kids... But he would have been alone there, too and he knew it.

"Mind if I join you?"

Almost dropping his vile of beetle urine, Scorpius looked up to see the familiar face of Rose Weasely. He looked over at where she had been to find Albus Potter scowling at him and trying to tame a smoking cauldron with some Scottish kid.

"Don't talk to me," Scorpius muttered, looking back down and continuing to add ingredients, "Do you want to get yourself shunned?"

Rather than shy away like a normal person, Rose took the stool next to his and grabbed one of his hands before it added the Merrythorn.

"Do you want to get yourself exploded? This is exactly what Albus did. Boys, they're just too thick."

Scorpius almost smiled, but caught himself in time. He yanked his hand away and started reading the instructions again:

16. Stir mixture clockwise eleven times. This should result in a marbled color of lilac and deep brown.
17. Add two sprigs of Merrythorn, one to each end of the cauldron.

"Whatever" Scorpius said as he stirred the cauldron. Way to make an idiot of yourself, he thought. He added the last two ingredients and, just as it began to hiss, he filled a vile and gave it to the professor who seemed quite surprised to find it hadn't broken.

"You could at least say thanks," Rose grumbled as Scorpius grabbed his bag and started to the door. He didn't turn around. 

The train had been a dream, so far away it wasn't even a memory.

He wasn't meant to be someone. He wasn't even there.

So it took a turn down, but I promise it's going somewhere!