The family bobbed towards the station, the midmorning sun glistening of of the slick metal train cars. The air was thick with black exhaust and crisp white breath as pedestrians bustled to their platforms. Sharp high whistles filled the air as passengers waved and smiled, desperate to be seen through the chilly autumn air. The boy's arms were piled high with books tilting precariously as he stumbled through the crowd. But if anyone in the station had bothered to look at the titles of the novels perched in his hands, they would likely have dropped their bags. In fact if they got over the very odd schoolbooks they may have looked over to the trolley being groggily shoved along by a slim white-haired man who was obviously the boy's father, and noticed the tawny owl and stately broom poking out the edges. And then they may have peered at the child's ostentatious mother, who was garbed in a regal black cloak. In fact if this passerby were startled by these oddities they might have looked around and noticed there were an awful lot of strange looking people drifting around King's Cross.

"Scorpius stop jumping." Scorpius winced at the sound of his name.

"Yes father," he mumbled with false sweetness that went unnoticed by Draco. His mother however, scowled, and Scopus let out his anger at being caught with a well aimed kick at a loose cobblestone. He glanced at his parents nervously, hoping they hadn't noticed, but they were busy muttering. Scorpius caught "disgraceful muggles" and "blood traitors". He glanced away, his big grey eyes slightly confused. He didn't agree with his parents views, after the war he really couldn't have cared less about muggles and "pure blood." His blood was just as red as Mindy's, his favorite house elf, though his parents seemed driven to find a contrast.

Scorpius never brought this up of course; there was a very big difference in thinking something and bringing it up, especially when you were a Malfoy, especially when there were certain...expectations.

The cold autumn air blew back his silver blonde hair, and he puffed at it, feeling a bit stupid but seeing no other option as his hands were full. They approached platforms nine and ten, both of which were crowded with chatting muggles. The family's conversation had quickly died out and he felt odd surrounded by talking and silence all at once.

They strode towards the barrier that separated the two platforms, making no attempt to be nonchalant. Well Scorpius tried a bit, but his heart wasn't really in it as he kept having to glance sideways at his parents to make sure they weren't looking. The barrier was growing very close now, and though he knew (at least, his father had told him) that all they had to do to get to platform nine and three quarters was stride confidently through, Scorpius had to admit it looked awfully solid to him. He winced as he glanced at the heavyset grey stone, and then again at his failed attempt to make the first wince into a cough.

His mother gave him a wavering glance but decided to let it pass with a soft hiss which Scorpius ignored. His father pushed the trolley into his hands, and gave him an awkward sort of shove. Better just get it over with, he thought wearily and with that he squeezed his eyes shut and barreled through the barrier.

He automatically waited for the crash, but it never came. There was a sensation like water trickling down his back and the hoots of owls and smell of sweets replaced the muggy station. Scorpius opened his eyes and whooped with adrenaline, punching the air with his fist. Unfortunately, his mother chose the same moment to glide through to the platform.

"SCORPIUS HYPERION MALFOY," He shook his head, one more moment, and he'd have been golden.

"Why are you dancing about in that unseemly manner!" His mother's english was crude at best, so thick with french that most of the people they knew in London couldn't understand her, but Scorpius had the wonderful pleasure of knowing her his entire life, and could pick out the words her just fine. He stared longingly at the scarlet steam engine, glittering through the crowd of men and women, all dawning cloaks and tearful expressions. They made him a bit uncomfortable. Scorpius had minutes at best until he was gone, and the Malfoys had done little more than yell at each other. He turned to her and mumbled,

"Sorry," She opened her mouth to continue, but at that moment Draco Malfoy came strutting onto the platform, an evil smirk plastered on his face. Scorpius, who hadn't particularly been looking forward to the lecture, had never been happier to see his father.

Suddenly, he felt a prickle up his spine, someone was watching him. In France, this had never bothered Scorpius much, but in London it was nearly always a predecessor to some sort of angry comment or furious glare. In France, Malfoy had just been another name, in London, they were infamous. Scorpius turned round, figuring it was best just to face this person, and immediately plucked out a tall man with tousled black hair, eyeing him curiously as he spoke to a small boy who resembled him nearly as much as Scorpius did Draco.

Draco turned and noticed the man. He gave a sort of grunt that only Scorpius heard and noded in the man's direction. Scorpius felt an odd warm sensation on his shoulder and was startled to see his fathers pale hand resting there. He stepped away automatically, but the dark haired man had already turned to a short woman with vivid red hair clutching a small girl's hand.

"Potter," Draco muttered in his usual drawling voice. Of course, Scorpius thought, tempted to slap his palm to his forehead, Harry Potter. He knew about Harry Potter of course, the man who saved the wizarding world. Draco, when he'd had a few shots of firewhisky, would drone on about famous Potter, and never, Scorpius thought sadly, in a very positive light.

Scorpius wanted a better look at the Potters but before he could crane his neck around the bushy afro of a woman who'd stepped in front of him, the train whistle sounded.

Draco stiffened, Scorpius' mother gave an odd sort of nod. Really Scorpius thought bitterly, what could you say? They were Malfoys, they weren't meant to be happy.

Steam clouded the air as the whistle sounded again, and so with one final glance at his uncomfortable parents, Scorpius turned on his heel, and teetering under the weight of his trunk, made his way to the Hogwarts express