Author's Note: This fanfiction was written by three collaborators including myself, Fangirl Defenestrator, and eclecticfangirl99. Please note that we are seeking out a beta reader if you spot any horrifying grammar mistakes below. If that's the case, feel free to point them out in your feedback (which we do love so much). We had fun writing this (all on facebook chat initially) and hope you enjoy reading it!

Additionally, this is Scorpius and Rose in first year, so we'll have to disappoint you when it comes to immediate heated romance. ;)

Disclaimer: We do not own Harry Potter (as much as we might wish to). It belongs to the ever-brilliant J.K. Rowling and her crew, and we absolutely lay no claim to her fantastic imagination.

Chapter 1

Scorpius

Scorpius strolled into the cavernous Great Hall with confident strides. "A Malfoy aura of owning Hogwarts is to be projected," his father had jokingly told him at King's Cross, "despite being a tad bit nervous." Scorpius scoffed at the thought. Nervous? As if. After all, it was a family tradition to keep Malfoy cool intact while others scurried in anxiety.

Sadly, no one seemed to pay him any heed. They were all either too absorbed in their own shaky nervousness or in the breathtaking Great Hall. Despite all he had seen of Malfoy Manor's grandeur, Scorpius couldn't help but look around with a bit of admiration as well.

He craned his neck to catch sight of the enchanted swirling sky above. Great banners adorning the walls equally battered for his attention, each vibrant in its promise. Tables just beneath each house symbol were full of students donned in black robes, emblems proudly stitched of the identities they had come to know. His eyes flickered across the red, blue, and yellow without elicited interest. It was the green that caught his eye, of course. Ah, yes, Slytherin. The house of real wizards: purebloods. That was where he would be sitting in a few hours time— among his rightful equals.

The thought sent a reassuring jolt through him, and a smirk quite like his father's spread across his features. There was nothing to fear. The sorting hat would be able to see he deserved Slytherin. It was his birth right, after all.

While the other first years looked about ready to soil their pants, Scorpius waited patiently in line until it was his turn. He quickly tuned out the sorting hat's song; it was useless and irrelevant. He didn't know why the hat even bothered with it.

"Adkins, Clara!" a stern, severe-looking witch announced to start the night off.

A pretty looking girl with blonde hair and gray eyes strolled up shakily, looking like she was about to be sick. The hat situated and seemed to ponder for an agonizing amount of time. Clara's eyes were squeezed shut through the entire ordeal, as if she was having a conflicting debate in her head.

Finally, "Ravenclaw!" was announced, and she was swallowed by the table of clapping blue and bronze.

A few more followed suit, each coaxing a quick response from the hat. Scorpius observed each shaking victim with amusement.

At last, it was Scorpius's turn and his confident gait did not go unnoticed by the onlookers. They knew as well as he did what the outcome would be, mutterings in the hall sounding mostly from the Gryffindor table.

He planted himself on the stool and tried not to cringe when the prospect of lice popped up in his mind. Hopefully a jinx was placed upon the hat to safeguard against such dangers. Who knew what sort the hat had the pleasure of meeting?

The sorting hat rustled his white-blonde hair as it plopped atop his head. For one tiny, minuscule fluke of a moment, he worried.

Then it passed, and the hat's taunting voice filled his ears.

"A Malfoy!" it screeched. "It's been a long time since I've been on one of your lot, you know. You're much like your father, dear boy. Ambitious, Slytherin to the core. Hints of bravery as well, of course, but..." The hat paused and Scorpius' gray eyes widened. "Ah, yes," the hat continued, apparently sensing the panic. "You're like him there too. Proud of the green, yes? Well, I'll give you what you like. You'll go in Slytherin!" The last word the hat proclaimed loudly. Judging by the cheers of the table in green, it was heard by the whole hall. Scorpius dutifully pulled off the sorting hat and set it on the stool. He made his way towards the table with a smug half-grin on his face.

A few boos and snide remarks echoed from the Gryffindor table, but it was nothing that could bother Scorpius. Not when he was already starting to live up to his potential— a real Slytherin! He kept his face blank and strode past the other tables without a second glance. Surely they were only jealous of his high standing- his talent and blood right.

Scorpius finally made it to the edge of the Slytherin table and sat at the end. A burly boy a few seats away gave him a nod of approval, and Scorpius nodded back. These were his people now.

Other first years came and went, each assigned to their respective houses. Some were excited, others less so. Unsurprisingly enough, the Potter boy was welcomed by the Gryffindor lot with whistling and stamping of feet, but Scorpius paid him no heed. One boy named Gordon Goyle, however, especially stood out to Scorpius. He was muscular, slightly intimidating, and vaguely familiar. He chose to sit in the middle of the upperclassman, interestingly enough. Scorpius made a note to speak to him later.

The remaining unsorted first years trickled down until there were only a few students left. And before he knew it, there was only one. "Weasley, Rose!" A professor called out. Scorpius had been told of the red-haired bunch- the Weasleys. The girl's parents had known his father when he was at Hogwarts himself.

Father's comments on them were typically rather vague. They obviously had a history, but he wasn't all too eager to complain about them the way one might expect of a Slytherin regarding a blood traitor. Scorpius didn't dare ask, so the fact remained a mystery.

The Weasley girl held an overall nervous but excited anticipation. She gave a dull smile of obviously feigned confidence and walked to the stool. Sitting down and taking a deep breath, the hat settled onto her head.

Gryffindor, no doubt, Scorpius guessed. It always was with the Weasleys— he had gathered that much. The girl looked somehow even more worried as she apparently listened to the hat. It was taking rather long, Scorpius marveled. Or was he simply paying more attention because he had heard of her?

Perhaps she hadn't even the ounce of bravery supposedly required for Gryffindor. Scorpius half-expected the hat to screech, "Hufflepuff!" and suspected he might laugh if it did.

The girl was tapping her feet now, possibly a nervous habit. Her eyes darted around the room; she appeared to be lost in the tellings of the hat. Finally, a crease in the cloth widened, and the booming voice rang out, sounding a bit surprised at its own proclamation. "Slytherin!"

Gasps around the hall ran out, Scorpius's among them. A Weasley in Slytherin! The girl hadn't even the good sense to look proud! In fact, her face was a mask of horror and guilt, the look a child would make when caught doing something they shouldn't.

She closed her eyes tightly for two long, agonizing seconds and then walked, irritatingly slowly, to the Slytherin table. She scanned worriedly for an open place to sit, probably one away from other people, and finding none, she sat next to Scorpius. He could help it; he scooted himself a few inches away. It was subtle, but she noticed.

She narrowed her eyes at him and looked him over before turning back to her plate.

Rose

Rose's heart rose up to her throat as she forced herself not to burst out crying. Slytherin. Of course. As if she wasn't already an outcast in her own family— she enjoyed reading and learning about new things, not jumping off roofs to prove how resilient she was to gravity. So, yes, something had always told her she wasn't exactly Gryffindor-material. But never, not in her wildest nightmares, did Rose picture herself at the table she sat at right now.

Rose bit her lip and ducked her head down, trying to tune out the whispers of everyone in the hall. Already she could hear rumors starting to form and circulate around the room.

Thankfully, their gossip was cut short once McGonagall rose from her seat in a regal demand for silence. The headmistress, ever the role model, was a female figurehead that Rose had always looked up to. However, when Rose snuck a glance, she couldn't help but notice McGonagall's alarmingly thin skin stretched gauntly over her cheekbones. The Headmistress was looking particularly sickly, and Rose wondered with dismay if the rumors of her swiftly approaching retirement were true.

Her eyes quickly dropped to her gleaming plate soon to be filled with food when McGonagall's piercing gaze swept over the Slytherin table. Best not to meet those eyes for fear of disappointment, especially with the epitome of a true Gryffindor… Rose swallowed back a lump in her throat.

"Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts to pursue a magical education," McGonagall began, not at all ruffled. "However, I see the importance in placing a few ground rules so we may go off to a good start to this wonderful year I foresee."

"Auto-answer quills, invisibility cloaks," Professor McGonagall started, with a quick glance towards the Gryffindor table, "and anything from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes are all forbidden. The third corridor and Forbidden Forest are both off limits, as usual, and we caution you to stay out of the old girl's lavatory."

A few snickers came from the direction of the Gryffindor table, and Rose sighed. If she was over there she would have laughed too, with a smug smile on her face due to the fact that she knew the backstory behind everything banned.

"And with that, students, I welcome you to Hogwarts. Let us delay no further from the great feast that will begin shortly." She offered a smile, taking a seat. With a wave of her hands, the gleaming plates situated at every table were soon lavished with an array of foods that normally would have coaxed an appetite never seen before out of Rose, but she found that she possessed none after what had just happened. Shame, seeing as everyone else was stuffing themselves silly.

But so as to not attract attention, Rose spooned a little bit of everything onto her plate. Mashed potatoes, lasagna, minced meat pies, pudding… and to her disgust, a pie with accusing fish heads protruding from the top. What little appetite she might have conjured up was definitely stamped out.

Students chattered all around Rose, discussing their summers and parents. It seemed most of them were pureblood families at their finest, all interconnected and knowledgeable of each other. Rose stared mostly at her food, seeing no adequate place to join in. Occasionally someone would ask her a question or two like visitors towards a foreign animal on display, but besides that, her night was full of listening to others laugh and reminisce about elite pureblood-only parties.

At last (and not a moment too soon), once trouser buttons were threatening to burst, the plates were cleared off the tables with another wave of McGonagall's hand. Rose noticed the drowsy blinks her fellow table-mates were all sporting, probably from scarfing down so much at one time. Her own state of mind was wide awake and alert from the pounding of her heart from dread, a token of the sorting that still hadn't subsided.

"I'm afraid I'll have to bring this merry night to an end." McGonagall herself seemed to have an added color in her cheeks from the feast, or perhaps that was from the wine the staff was known to sip during celebrations and on special occasions. "But it is time for us to part to make your way to your respective houses. It will be the prefects' duty to see to that. I bid you all an invigorating sleep for the classes tomorrow!" And with that, the entire hall started to rise.

Rose gulped as she let the wave of students carry her to the great doors, prefects ushering not far behind. To think she was heading towards the infamous Slytherin common room that Dad had apparently infiltrated... That was not where she had envisioned herself lounging about tonight. She recalled the hat's surprise when he read out the house name. If it was not for the flaming red hair, she wouldn't believe herself to be a Weasley at all. Even so, it would seem she had failed her family. She scanned the room for her cousins James and Albus to gauge their reaction, but soon gave up trying to discern the rowdy bunch of scarlet and gold in the distance.

Throughout the entire walk to their dormitories, the words of her father played in her mind. "If you're not in Gryffindor, we'll disinherit you," her father had said at the station. At the time it seemed silly, even humorous, and her mother and aunt had dismissed it with a wave of their hands, assuring her that he was kidding. But was he? Was he really?

She hardly even noticed when they came to an abrupt stop at a wall and nearly collided with a few girls who gave her vicious looks.

The Slytherin prefect informed them of the current password: snapdragon, and the entrance moved back to reveal a corridor lined with torches leading into a dark common room. Rose couldn't help but shiver when she eyed what was supposedly her "hang out" for the next seven years and spotted the disdainful taste in decorating. The room was also flooded in green light, leaving Rose to wonder what enchantment had been placed until she spotted the windows near the ceiling. It was definitely… charming. A bitter smile stole across her features.

The room had not taken her by surprise though, as she had already seen a picture of it in Hogwarts, a History. Rose couldn't help compare it to all the other common rooms based upon their illustrations, which had contrastingly appeared warm and inviting. A longing stole across her for the prospective lives she would never experience: warm talks by the crackling Gryffindor fireplace; intelligent debate by the bookshelves of Ravenclaw; merry banter in the arms of Hufflepuff house. Instead, she was to experience the coldness of the house known for its great production of dark wizards.

Rose desperately recalled her sorting to see if she had given an indication at all to seal her fate.

"Oh, so many possibilities I see," he had spoken aloud rather ponderously once nestled in her ginger curls.

Rose had bitten her lip in response and scanned the hall to distract herself from the impending verdict. The hat was silent the entire time, even when her eyes fell on Gryffindor and a bit of dread filled her at the expectations she would have to fulfill. She wasn't brave by any means, and couldn't help it when the thought crossed her mind.

That was probably the biggest mistake of her life, Rose realized with regret as she trudged into her assigned room toward a lavish bed.

The bed looked inviting at least. Slytherins were known for their indulgence. She took a seat with a sigh and promptly fell flat onto her sheets, all energy seemingly seeped out of her. Rose closed her eyes and tried to envision the newest book she had read and imagined the conversation she'd be having with her mother about it if she were here— anything to distract her from the traitorous dormitory she had never even imagined herself sleeping in.