Hi! *waves* So, this is my first venture into the HP fanfiction-writing domain, even though I have been reading them since forever. Hope you enjoy this attempt at a non-enemies ScoRose fanfiction!
The first time Scorpius Malfoy saw Rose Weasley, it was at Platform Nine and Three Quarters, with his mother pointing her out - really, gesturing discreetly at her entire family, the whole red-haired, Weasley-fied brood of them - and saying, "Those are the ones you'll want to watch out for, Scor. The Potters and Weasleys have never been fond of Malfoys or Slytherins, and you'll most likely be both."
Scorpius, eleven and nervous and a little drunk on the vestiges of freedom and independence he could feel sliding into his grasp, had said, "I don't have to be a Slytherin, Mum, do I?"
"You don't have to." Astoria Greengrass smiled down at her son, smoothing her hand over Scorpius's cowlicks. "But it's likely you will be."
"And it's likely they'll - " he jerked his chin over at them. "Hate me, but that doesn't mean I can't defy the odds, does it?"
"No, Scorpius." She wasn't looking at him anymore; both his parents, hands still clutching the trolley's handle, were staring across King's Cross Station at the Potter-Weasley clan. "No, it doesn't."
And the rest of the walk towards the Hogwarts Express had been uneventful as it could be for the first time; smoke billowing as it obscured his parents' faces, them saying tearful goodbyes, promises to write echoed with owls hooting, embarrassment and nerves and anticipation all warring together in his chest. Until he'd gotten onto the train, and realized he didn't know where to sit.
All the carriages he walked past were full, full of whispers and stares, gossip and gazes. "Malfoy - Slytherin - evil - pureblood." He scurried past a compartment full of pureblood children his grandfather sometimes forced him to play with, and finally found an empty carriage near the back. Scorpius may have been alone, but at least he wasn't mocked or treated like a zoo animal with an obvious deformity.
He took out one of his sketchpads and a pencil, thinking to draw the outline of the Hogwarts Express as it rolled out of the station, the clusters of parents and the groups of children, separated by its windows, when he heard voices. "Look, Al, here's an empty - Oh, hullo."
Scorpius looked up anxiously. "Hullo. I'm Scorpius, Scorpius Malfoy."
There were two people, a boy with dark hair that fell in front of his glasses, and an auburn-haired girl who he thought might have been a Weasley. She had been the one to speak, all easy chatter that vanished now and twisted into a surprised squawk. "Malfoy?"
"You don't need to do everything your father says, Rosie." The boy next to her - Al? - nudged her, and sat down across from him. "I'm Albus Potter."
Rose opened her mouth, closed it, and, seemingly reluctant, took a seat next to Albus. She didn't meet Scorpius's eyes, which was fine by him. "Don't call me Rosie, cousin."
Cousin. If Scorpius remembered correctly, then Rose-Not-Rosie was a Weasley. The daughter of legendary Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, cousin of Albus Potter, niece of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley. Famous in a good way, not like the dark taint that followed Malfoy everywhere that his father did his best to keep Scorpius from noticing.
As he and Albus settled into an animated conversation about Quidditch, he thought he might have just made his first friend - and perhaps his first enemy. He eyed her - Rose was reading a Muggle book, one whose title he didn't recognize from the handful his mother had read to him over the years. She coiled a strand of reddish-brown hair around her fingers as she turned the pages of the book on her lap, humming tunelessly. The Weasley was completely engrossed; he was certain that she would have lambasted him for staring at her otherwise. She seemed that type of girl, firm and resolute in her beliefs, completely immovable once she decided on a stance. And her stance seemed to be complete hatred of all things Malfoy.
"Oh, there's the trolley witch! I'm going to see if James will give me any of his pocket money, either of you coming?" Albus asked, darting up from his seat. Neither of them moved. Rose put down her book, tucking a slip of parchment between the yellowed pages with a happy sigh, stretching her arms over her head. She appeared to have forgotten her presence until she looked forwards. Her face hardened, and she said nothing but her expression said it all.
I don't trust you.
You Malfoy.
You future-Slytherin.
You most-likely-complete-git.
"What book are you reading?" Scorpius worked up the courage to say. The tension thickened.
"Nothing you'll have heard of." Rose snapped, closing her book with an audible thump. He resisted the urge to gulp, instead stiffening his spine.
"You'd be surprised," he insisted.
"It's a Muggle story, so I doubt a pureblood like you would have heard of it," she argued.
"Then tell me, Rosie," Scorpius said. "Tell me what the book's called."
She seemed infuriated by both his use of the nickname and the fact that he was being so patient. He resisted the urge to smirk; she'd probably use it as more fodder against him. "It's called A Tale of Two Cities."
"By Charles Dickens?" He asked, savouring her look of surprise. His mother had read him all the Muggle classics, and Astoria Greengrass's favourite had been A Tale of Two Cities, her favourite character being Sydney Carton. She'd always told Scorpius that he reminded her of his father.
"How would a - " he saw her choke on the name Malfoy - "How would you know about Muggle literature?"
He shrugged. "I've got eyes. I read, and my Mum likes the books. She read them to me when I was younger."
"So, who knew Scorpius Malfoy was a mummy's boy?" she teased, although there was no malice in her tone. He relaxed. Their banter went on, although remarkedly less tense.
By the time Albus returned with armfuls of chocolate frogs and pumpkin pasties, Scorpius and Rose had decided that maybe, it was possible for a Malfoy and a Weasley to be friends.
Just maybe.
...
The first time Rose Weasley stood up for Scorpius Malfoy, it was on the train ride home for the holidays, and Albus was standing down to his older brother, who clearly had his priorities out of order.
"How could you, Albus?" James demanded, sticking his finger in his brother's face. "How dare you make friends with a Slytherin? And not just any Slytherin - Scorpius Malfoy!"
"You don't actually care that I, myself, am a Slytherin, Jamie?" Albus asked, keeping his tone nonchalant. Rose knew, however, that both his brother's approval and Scorpius's friendship meant a great deal to him. She supposed they would see which one meant more.
"No, of course I don't care!" James snapped. "It's going to be useful having a Slytherin in the family for pranks and things. And don't call me Jamie, or try to change the subject. Why Malfoy?"
Albus shrugged. "He needed a friend."
James turned to Rose. "C'mon, Rosie! Talk some sense into him."
Rose looked torn. "I don't know, James..."
"What would Uncle Ron say?" James wheedled, nudging his red-headed cousin.
"I'm not going to tell Al what to do, James. Alright? He can make his own friends." It was a neutral statement on the surface, but Albus knew it was more than that.
James left in a huff, muttering that all his relatives had gone mad. Rose smothered a giggle as se watched him leave before turning back to Al.
"Thanks, Rose." Albus squeezed his cousin's hand awkwardly. "But why'd you do it?"
She answered casually. "None of you lot read the same books as I do."
"It's just books?" Albus asked.
"It's just books, Al." Rose got up from her seat. What was there to say? He's friends with you, and you're my favourite cousin. He always lets me have the last chocolate frog. He has a dimple when he smiles. None of those were answers she could spout without being teased mercilessly, and besides, those were feelings she didn't want to get into. "I'm going to the loo."
He grunted, looking out the carriage window at a pretty Ravenclaw girl passing by. Rose rolled her eyes, and bumped into someone. Startled, she jumped back.
"Malfoy." Rose greeted Scorpius with a nod, her heart stuttering oddly.
"Weasley," he said, faux-solemnly, as though they were long-suffering rivals.
"Got any sweets on you?" she asked, nodding at his pockets. Since he couldn't go home for Christmas this year, his Nan had decided to send him the amount of candy, chocolate, and all around sugar that he would have normally consumed. It had fit in three boxes and had to be lugged onto the train.
"Sure." He pulled out a chocolate frog from the pocket of his robes, which always seemed to have room for something or another despite the fact that he constantly had his hands in them. "Here - it's the last one."
"Thanks, Scor." She unwrapped it, watching him brush his hair back from his face - it was pale, silvery-gold, like spun moonlight from the fairy books Lily liked to read sometimes. Where had that thought come from? "Walk me back to the compartment? I think they're done arguing."
"Sure." He nodded, gesturing for her to go first. And then Scorpius moved, for a moment, as if to twine his pale, long fingers with her own, or rest his hand on the small of her back, but instead he stuffed his hands in his pockets and they walked back to the compartment they were sharing with Al.
Things went on as normal, and Rose didn't think about that moment for a long, long time.