Authors note: I am playing fast and loose (if that's how the expression goes) with the ages and names of characters. Mostly because I'm too lazy to look it up. So this is basically a mild AU.

The train shuttered along the tracks. The compartment was empty except for one boy dressed in black. He had a sullen look on his face that discouraged anyone else from even entering.

Almost equally off-putting was the fact that he was smoking, and a thick haze of stifling vapor clogged the air in the small room.
Whispers spread down the corridor.

"You'll never guess"

"Did you hear?" ...
"Son of Malfoy.."

"Transferred here"

"why now?" ...
"Anyone seen him?"

"Don't want his kind here"

The boy took a long drag on his cigarette and turned to watch the cold rain pelting the window until it stopped.

Thirteen year old Rose Weasley sat with her cousin Albus. They were playing cards.
The window was open, and a chill autumn wind swept through the compartment, blowing her long auburn hair around her head. They were currently playing a game they had invented themselves (or rather, Rose had invented it, and Albus was the only one who understood it) It was a confusing mashup of poker and a very violent version of exploding snap. This was the reason why Rose and Albus had perpetually bandaged hands. In the pot was a bottle of red nail polish (Rose's) An illicitly obtained flask of firewhisky (also Rose's) a bundle of fireworks (Albus's) and a large sum of money (Albus's) Abruptly a card exploded. Albus jumped back, swearing. He didn't move quite fast enough, and his pinky was caught in the explosion.
Rose was doubled over laughing.
"The look on your face!" She crowed. "Episky" he waved his wand, and the finger snapped back into place. "These cards seem to explode more frequently when I'm the one holding them." He complained, peeved.
Rose held up both her hands, covered in a total of nine band aids. "Yeah? That right?" He rolled his eyes, and changed the subject. "I don't know why I even bother. I never win." "But just think, this could be the time that you do!" She cajoled. "Come on, don't be such a wet blanket."
Albus wasn't even looking at her. Augusta Longbottom had just sashayed down the corridor, leaving behind the scent of expensive French perfume.
A very popular sixth year, and best friend of Dominique Weasley, she was tall, curvaceous, and charmingly clueless (about everything except how to look like the cover of a sports illustrated magazine, it seemed) Rose snapped her fingers in front of Albus's face. "Earth to Al." She rapped him on the head. "Knock knock, anyone home?" "Uhh, what?" He said, gradually coming out of his stupor. He rubbed his head. "I wish you wouldn't do that, Rose. It bloody hurt."
"Oh honestly," Rose rolled her eyes, "you'd think she's Venus incarnate, the way people act." She sat back in her seat and propped her feet up on the opposite side. It wasn't that she was jealous of Augusta, she wasn't. Really. She was fine with having the body of a twelve year old boy. Really, she was.
She glared down at her hands, fingernails currently painted dark purple, and twisted one of her rings around idly on her finger. It was her favorite ring, shaped like a skull and enchanted so that the eyes glowed red whenever she was about to put poisoned food in her mouth (this happened more often than you'd think) it was a gift from Zappor Zabini, who had been her boyfriend in second year. It had been the shortest and oddest relationship of her admittedly limited romantic experiences (Of which there were only two so far. Her older cousins assured her that this was a perfectly acceptable number for someone her age. More than acceptable, actually. Molly was a fifth year, and she still hadn't gotten a boyfriend.)

James poked his oh-so-carefully-mussed head of hair into their compartment. "Hey, you two dips heard the news yet?" "What, that you were caught in a tornado on the way here?" Said Rose in reference to his hair, which he either didn't acknowledge or didn't get. "Draco Malfoy's son transferred to hogwarts." "Mm-hm. Yeah, okay." Said Rose, raising an eyebrow.
"No, I'm not joking! I'm dead serious, ferret junior is somewhere on this train right now." Protested James.
"I'll believe that when I see it. No way old man Malfoy would ever send his precious spawn to hogwarts." Rose scoffed. "Nice try though, Jamie. The first years down the hall'l probably buy it."
"Wait, what?" Said Albus, looking confused. "What are we even talking about?" "Wake up major Tom." Said James, slapping Albus upside the head triumphantly. "That right there is what I'm talking about when I say you'll never make the quidditch team. And fine Rose, don't believe me. Doesn't make a difference, you'll find out soon enough. He'll be in your year. How I pity you.
See you later space cadet, hellcat." he nodded to Albus, saluted Rose mockingly, and left.
A few moments passed, then a scream could heard echoing down the train. "That git!" Shrieked Rose. "He stole my firewhisky!"

As they were getting off the train, with Rose single-mindedly ranting about James, someone bumped into Albus from behind.
"Hey, watch it." He said, in a mild tone. The kid was obviously muggle born, he was dressed in a pair of loose, ripped up dark jeans and a faded black tee shirt, with an obviously secondhand robe thrown overtop of it.
The boy aimed a dirty look at him; he smelled of cigarette smoke, and his hair was a shaggy, tangled mess that hung in his eyes.
Albus got a bad feeling from him. "You might want to change into uniform, mate." He advised. "The name's Albus. I don't recall seeing you around here before. What year are you in?"
The kid walked off without replying, shoulders hunched.
Albus stood in confusion a moment, then put the encounter out of his mind and followed Rose to the carriages.

The two of them were seated at gryffindor table. Albus was still trying to reason with Rose.
"Come on Rose, its not like you didn't steal it yourself from uncle George. And let's be honest, you wouldn't have drank it anyway."
"Yeah? How do you know that? Maybe I would have. And anyway, I could have traded it to one of the sixth or seventh years for something cool." Rose was determined to be in a bad mood, snorting rudely as the sorting hat sung, and making fun of particularly ridiculous sounding verses beneath her breath (at least, she thought it was beneath her breath. Rose wasn't the best at being quiet or subtle)
Albus tried not to show it, but he was getting annoyed. Rose could never let anything go. He tried to think of something to take her mind off of the stolen firewhisky. "look, it's that muggle born kid who bumped into me getting off the train. I see he's changed." He commented. Against her will, Rose turned to look. The boy was approaching Gryffindor table. As he sat down they caught sight of a red and gold tie around his neck.
"That kid's in gryffindor?" Exclaimed Rose, "how have I never seen him before? Have you ever seen him?" Albus shook his head. A sneaking suspicious was beginning to creep up on him, but he kept quiet about it.
"There's something familiar about him." Continued Rose. The kid was sitting with his elbows on the table and resting his head in his hands, like he had a headache. "I know I've seen him before, or someone who looked like him!" Rose grabbed a piece of bread out of a basket and chucked it at him. The bread bounced off his shoulder. "Hey kid, what's your name?" She called across the table. Albus shook his head.
The boy looked up, an expression of absolute fury on his face. He didn't reply, only glared for a few minutes, then pointedly looked away. "Bloody hell, talk about mental." Rose said, looking torn between anger and confusion. "What's his problem? What'd I do?"
"I dunno, Rose. Maybe some people don't take kindly to being pelted with bread and shouted at. Look, don't worry about it. The kid's obviously got problems. He wouldn't talk to me either, before."
At that moment, the sorting apparently done (neither of them had paid much attention) headmistress McGonagall stepped up to give to the usual announcements. Rose muttered along with her, quoting the exact words perfectly, complete with over exaggerated facial expressions. Albus began to snicker, half irritated, half amused.
"Those wishing to avoid detention would do well to keep out of the forbidden forest. Hogsmeade is off limits to first and second years-"
Rose elbowed Albus, wiggling her eyebrows up and down. "Of which lowly and despised ranks we no longer belong to. Sweet freedom!" She threw her head back and her arms out, accidentally clocking someone in the face. Luckily it was only their cousin Lucy, who had a friendly, quiet disposition. "Sorry." Said Rose, not sounding terribly sincere.
"It's alright." Lucy sighed, readjusting her glasses and scooting away a bit.

Albus had just begun to eat, when McGonagall unexpectedly continued.
"As some of you will no doubt already have figured out for yourselves, we have a new third year transfer student this year. I trust everyone will give a suitable welcome to Scorpius Malfoy." Instantly a chorus of whispers arose from all four tables.
Immediately all heads were craning toward slytherin table.
"Mr. Malfoy has been sorted into Gryffindor. Now then- " nobody was listening.
All heads spun to look at gryffindor, and the whispering and muttering reached a dull roar. There was a pause as the entire Gryffindor table went into shock before all at once realizing the same thing.
The strange, unfriendly boy nobody could seem to remember seeing before was the son of Draco Malfoy!
It seemed to Scorpius that hundreds of pairs of eyes had all focused on him with a blistering intensity. Albus and Rose exchanged an incredolous look. (a bit more so on Rose's part than Albus's)
"That kid is Scorpius Malfoy?!" Spluttered Rose. "But... But why is he in gryffindor? Why was he dressed like a muggle before? Why is he here? Bloody hell, James was right! I can't believe it!"

And once the connection was made, it was obvious.
The boy was pale and fair haired, though not so ghost-like as his father, with an arrogant cast to his features that was painfully familiar to most of the teachers. It was just that nobody had been looking for a Malfoy with baggy, worn out robes that were literally patched together, and overgrown, unkempt hair that obviously hadn't seen a comb in some time. And certainly they hadn't been looking for him in the direction of gryffindor table.
Scorpius met the stares with a hostile expression. "What? Haven't you lot got anything better to do than stare all day?" He stabbed a piece of meat on his plate violently, and shoved it in his mouth, looking back down.
"Easy there, Malfoy. No need to get defensive. People are curious about a new student, thats all." Said Molly, also their cousin, and a prefect. Malfoy ignored her, and didn't say another word the entire meal. Nobody tried talking to him after witnessing both Rose and Molly's failed attempts.