A/N: This is a new part of the fandom for me although I have been reading it since the epilogue, so helpful criticism is welcome and I apologise for any mistakes, let me know and I'll change them.

Hope you enjoy! R&R!

Easier to be Headmaster Than a Star

It doesn't matter what house I'm in. It doesn't matter what house I'm in. It doesn't matter…

This has been my mantra since the train, well, since the platform really. It became perfectly clear to my father early on in my life when I was confronted with an enraged peacock, that I was neither Gryffindor material, as I ran away screaming, nor Hufflepuff, as I left him to deal with it. So that left Ravenclaw or Slytherin, and though I know my parents would prefer I go into their house, there is no shame on being recognised for intelligence. Not that I could bring more shame on the Malfoy name really…

It didn't stop me fidgeting on the train once out of sight of mother, and blinking back anxious tears when I knew father wouldn't notice. So there I sat, alone, outcast almost, from the other students in a compartment all to myself and I really didn't mind the quiet.

Which means at the exact moment I accepted the quite ride a blur of blue robes burst into my compartment, dived under my seat and behind my legs as a stampede of boys, obviously a couple years older than me, ran right by the compartment door, hollering for all they were worth.

The sound slowly quietened as they obviously continued their crusade down the train, in search of what, I have a particular feeling, was hiding under me. Once all was calm yet again, I leant over and examined the blue robed stranger.

He sat, foetal, with a hand clutched over his mouth, either to stop his laugher escaping or himself breathing too loudly in the small compartment and gazed at me with brilliant green eyes. Playing along with the intensity of his reaction, I whispered, "I think they're gone now."

After that, he exploded into life. I really cannot find another word for it. He got out from under the bench so quickly it was like he'd been bombarda-ed out, and let loose. "Brothers! I tell you." He exclaimed while brushing off his hands, and for a moment I'm disgusted to wonder how long it has been since this compartment saw a thorough cleaning charm, "Look after him, Mum said. So what's the first thing he does?" He looks at me, and for a startling moment I think he may want me to answer, "He tries to hex me into a chicken! I mean, you know what I mean, right?"

I answer immediately with a shake of my head, "No, not at all." And then mentally curse myself because, really, he may stop speaking now, and go find his friends, and I'll be back to silence. Which, to be honest, I've decided isn't really that brilliant on my own.

Instead of leaving, the other boy looks bashful, "Yes, I suppose not." He ruffles his already unruly black hair and it makes me want to flinch towards the comb in my carry case, "No one has a brother as mental as mine."

"I don't have a brother." And I wish I could stop talking, but this new boy just looks intrigued by this.

"Really?" He says it wistfully, "You got sisters or something, or is it just you?" I have a feeling that this boy asks questions that he has no right asking, but his innocence probably lets him get away with it.

"Just me." I tell him. I stand and offer my hand, as I've been taught to do when greeting strangers and I don't think people come much stranger than him. "Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy."

He gives me a beaming smile that lights up his eyes as he grasps my hand in both of his. "Full name treatment? I must be special." He puffs out his chest a little as he announces his own name. "Albus Severus Potter."

I feel myself go cold. I know that name. Everyone knows that name. He's Harry Potter's son. The saviour's son. If figures that the only person to enter this carriage in two and a half hours would be the son of my father's childhood rival. It is only now that I look at him and see the resemblance in the legendary eyes – eyes that won the war, as romanticists had come to call them – and the dead hedgehog on his head. I quickly release his hand, but if he notices he doesn't say.

He continues to chat as he sits down opposite me. "Scorpius." He sounds it out like he's just eaten it. "That's not something you hear everyday."

I sit down stiffly, "My birthday is at the end of October." Albus gives me a glance which clearly implies I'll pretend that means something to me. "As in the constellation Scorpio."

Albus nodded sagely, "Wow, does that mean if you'd been born a Virgo, you'd be called Virgin?" I don't know whether to laugh or be insulted, but it doesn't matter as he is already chatting again. "I'm named after two of the greatest headmasters of Hogwarts."

I know that. Both of those names are synonymous with the Boy Who Lived. The name of Harry Potter's second son was still scandalous amongst the pureblood elites, although I noticed that my father very rarely got into the conversation. "A lot to live up to."

Again he ruffles his hair and gives a slightly breathy laugh, "Yeah," He agrees, looking up at me through his fringe with a grin, "But it's easier to become Headmaster than a star."

I feel myself relax as we start to banter. He isn't here to mock me or repeat history. He is merely a boy living in terror of his brother's transfiguration skills who happened to jump into my compartment. I had a good feeling about him.

We talk comfortably for the rest of the journey. He tells me about his brother, and it makes me shiver as the thought of ever meeting one James Sirius Potter, because even though, as Albus hastens to tell me, what James does is all in good fun, I can't help but feel that I will be on the less entertaining side of his humour.

I tell him about home, though I find myself a lot more interested in him than myself, even though he looks riveted when I tell him about our libraries and such, and I have a sneaking suspicion he may try to invite himself to the Manor one holiday, if I allow it.

Eventually, inevitably, we begin talking about houses.

"I don't know where I'll end up." He admits with a wrinkled nose, like it tastes bad to do so. "I mean, how clever do you have to be to get into Ravenclaw? And do you get into Hufflepuff because you lack everything else or because you work hard? But then why do the Ravenclaws not go into Hufflepuff? Are they lazy and clever?" He looks slightly crazed as he spits these questions at me and I feel his anxiety like a physical presence, "And then there is Gryffindor. I mean, I know the family would be ecstatic if I end up there, I mean bravery is great, and I'd like to think I'm brave sometimes, but James is in Gryffindor, and to be frank, I have enough of him over the holidays. The less access he has to my bed the better, as far as I'm concerned." Albus sits there then, worrying his thumb nail between his teeth as he curls up looking out the window.

"What about Slytherin?" I ask quietly. I want to come across nonchalant but I know I can't because I'd like to think that he will be my friend but I know that houses stop train friendships in their tracks, father told me it happens every year.

He looks back at me, studying me, and for some reason whenever he looks at me I feel like I'm sitting an exam, but I never know if I've passed. "Slytherin would be cool, I think." He says finally, "I mean, the common room is in the dungeon, how cool is that? Better than some tower. I mean, what if Hogwarts was under attack, like in the war? Would you rather be taken out by something that battered through thirty feet of rubble, and giving you time to prepare, first or a gust of wind because the house elves haven't been keeping up the charms?" Again, he looks at me like he wants an answer but continues speaking, "But then, I don't think my Uncle Ron would ever speak to me again, and James would use it as an excuse to come after me, but then he uses the excuse that I'm breathing so that doesn't really mean much, does it? So… I don't know what house I'll go into." He unfurls himself, "What about you?"

For the first time answering the question, I'm truly decisive. "Slytherin."

He nods and for the rest of the ride we talk about quidditch and chess.

I do like Albus Severus Potter, though I do think that is an unfortunate name to have to carry through your life with you. I find him funny and the way he talks about his siblings makes me grateful not to have any. He idolises his father and adores his mother which makes me think maybe he is just vying for their attention against his siblings.

He talks about quidditch in a way that I actually find myself getting interested in it even though I only really understand every third word, wizards chess is much more my game, and when he realises this, instantly switches the conversation to suit me and before I know it we are standing, side by side in front of a man I know to be the husband of the Leaky Cauldron's land lady.

His demeanour is welcoming, I decide. His plump features, sandy hair and happy smile make me think I will enjoy Herbology this year. He doesn't strike me as the kind of teacher to carry prejudice.

"When you walk through these doors, you will follow me up to the head table where you will be sorted into one of the four houses with the Sorting Hat." Professor Longbottom explains to the apprehensive ones amongst us. "They are Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin and Gryffindor." The wizard born children nod in understanding, while a few other look around at each other as if to say Hufflewhat?

"Your house will be important while you're here, they will be the people you likely turn to when you need help and will be like your family. Good behaviour will gain you house points, and misdemeanours will lose points. But before we go in, I just want to tell you what the Sorting Hat is probably already telling the upper years."

His face is serious as he looks over us, it doesn't suit him at all, "Friendly competition is encouraged, but when you step out of these doors in seven years time, no matter what people tell you, it won't mean anything. You are here to learn, and I think the best thing that we can teach you is cooperation, not segregation."

He smiles again, "So no matter if your family are all in one house," His eyes betray him by glancing at Albus and I, "Or all your friends get scattered, all this sorting will do will show you your strongest talents." He brushes up his sleeves as he prepares to open the doors to the Great Hall, "And perhaps an opportunity to work on your weaknesses, why not?" And with that we were lead into the Hall like cattle to the slaughter.

It only takes our group a moment to realise what everyone's eyes are searching for, and it's standing beside me. Albus seems to shrinks slightly under the attention, so as we come to a stand still I gab him in the ribs with a smirk and he stands taller to cover the fact he has now moved to stand on my foot.

The Sorting itself is boring, some names are familiar to me and the Sorting is not a surprise. Another McMillan in Hufflepuff? No really? But as we get further through the list, each child having the hat descend and ascend above them I begin thinking two things.

I am ferverently praying that none of these children have head lice, but that thought is only fleeting, if recurrent.

My next is why does P come after M in the alphabet? I don't want to be sorted first. What if I go into Slytherin and he goes into Gryffindor? I've lost the only friend I've ever made under my own steam and we are then going to have to become sworn enemies and it's just going to be our fathers all over again – but far worse because I'm quite a pitiful opponent for someone like Albus. Him – funny, charming, quidditch. Me – quiet, bookish, chess. I shall not survive this.

At least if he was to go first I would know what frame of mind to go up there with. He goes into Hufflepuff; I think loyal thoughts of following him into that house. He goes into Gryffindor; I bluff bravery. Ravenclaw I think up every riddle and book title I've ever even heard of. Slytherin, I just go up and get sorted.

So here I am, my name is next after Daryl Kirke who predictably gets into Gryffindor and all I can think at the moment is to curse Albus Severus Potter for not changing his name before he boarded the Hogwarts Express.

"Scorpius Malfoy." Professor Longbottom calls and I walk up to the stool, and hop on.

This is awful. Everyone it looking at me. I know how this is supposed to go, the hat is barely supposed to touch me before calling out Slytherin, that's how it was with father, but horrifyingly I feel it come to rest, snug on my head.

Why hello young Malfoy, I was wondering when I would be seeing you.

'Oh Merlin, what do you want?'

Impatient, no Hufflepuff are you? The hat sniggered at me, I saw some interesting thoughts buzzing round your mind and thought we could have a chat. Your head's full of him already.

I'm instantly wary, 'Who?'

Young Potter of course. I saw him in his brother's head not long ago. Strange that he be in yours too, and so quickly.

'Please can you just sort me and get this over with.'

I don't think so. I'm deprived of company most of the year, you can indulge me. I can't feel it, but I know that that hat is rooting around in my head. He's quite bright isn't he? Quick witted, and unusually loyal to a brother he proclaims to dislike. Hmmm… and to sit with you, knowing who you are, in full daylight. Quite brave, wouldn't you say?

I tense as the hat prattles on and all I can think is, 'Not Gryffindor. Not Gryffindor.'

Ha! Gryffindor is a fine house. His entire family came from there and you know that the pumpkin doesn't get far from the patch. The hat is silent for a moment, where would you have him then?

'Please Slytherin. Please Slytherin.'

Slytherin. As good a place as any from your mind but who is to say that even you will end up there?

'Please…'

I have a place for you. Had one from the moment I brushed your ears, but I cannot guarantee that Mr Potter will be joining you. He will have secrets in his head that you cannot see.

'You divide each year equally into four houses. You decide where they go and mix it up every year! Severus Snape was put in Slytherin because there was already four boys in Gryffindor that year and Slytherin was low!'

The hat sounded intrigued, if it was able. You think Severus Snape held no Slytherin traits?

I scoff, if only my mother could see me now. 'Of course he did. He survived as a spy for twenty years. He was cunning and ambitious. But Albus' dad said that Severus Snape was the bravest man he ever knew, and if anyone knows bravery it's Harry Potter.' I feel like crowing triumphantly but the urge is dampened when I remember I am arguing with an animated hat. 'So you can do it, I know you can.'

Again, the hat is laughing at me. I believe our time is through young Malfoy, good luck. "Slytherin!"

No time has passed really, I know that, but I feel that the Hat may have been on too long when I see the older Slytherin eyeing me as they clap politely. I sit at the end of the table with the other first years, giving them a wide birth as I watch, rivitedly, the hat make it's way through three more students (a Hufflepuff and two Ravenclaws) before Albus is called up.

Hallowed silence reigns as the hat rests, every teacher holds their breath, and I swear I imagine that the hat turns slightly to me on Albus' head before it announces, "Slytherin!"

The polite clap I received seems overzealous compared to the silence that greets Albus' sorting. A blush crawls up his face as he slowly starts to make his way over and so I do the only thing I can.

I jump to my feet, hollering, and clapping until my hands hurt to welcome him. He smiles at me, his tension eased, and as his brother follows me with a yelled, "Go Alby!" and encouraging his friends to do the same, the spell is broke and Albus sits beside me, no hint of a blush left, nudging me with his shoulder. "Long time no see." He jokes as the hall calms down for the sorting of the last few stragglers.

"A life time." I deadpan, but the effect is ruined by my aching grin.

We turn back to the front as the last of us is sorted into Gryffindor and I have a feeling that Uncle Stephen is not going to be pleased, however his daughter is the apple of his eye. I shan't be surprised the next time we visit if the whole of Greengrass Manor is red and gold.

"Hey Scorpius." Albus hisses next to me and I turn to see a mischievous look in his eye. "Have you realised where we live now?" He is basically humming with excitement; it's a wonder to see. "Dungeons."

I think my grin turns feral to match his and there is only one word I can use to reply. "Cool."