Chapter 1

I drag a comb through my frizzy orange curls and twiddle my wand through my fingers, careful not to accidentley cast a spell. I did that before my second year at Hogwarts, and the Ministry of Magic wasn't very pleased. McGonagall came up with my lawsuit, claiming I was still 'traumatised' by the death of my family. They were killed by Death Eaters for revenge after You-Know-Who lost power. People are still scared to say his name. I'm not scared of his name. Just saying it… it reminds me of my family.

Now, I live with my Mum's best friend (Sarah) who was practically my aunt when I grew up. Before living with Sarah, I lived with the Potters. They were too sypathetic, treating me differently just because my family was gone. And they reminded me of them way too much. All the red-heads, their love of Quiddich and how… nice they were. I felt too… out of place. So I moved here.

Sarah was nice for the first couple of years. I used to look up at her. Until recently. Before I was about to leave last summer for my fith year of Hogwarts, she got pissed off with me because she found out I had started smoking.

Ok, that was a real reson to be angry.

Now she wants to get rid of me. She got engaged 2 months back and is pregnant even though she's like, 40. She needs more space for her real family, not for a orphan who got dumped into her care. I only stay here with her because I know otherwise I would be sent off to the Potters. Which does not seem like such a bad idea anymore.

"Rose!" I hear her shrill scream echoing from the hallway.

"What?!" I snap back, immediatley on the defense. I can hear her stagger up the stairs, tripping up a couple of times but righting herself again. Looking through the mirror, I can see her resting on the doorframe, bottle of whiskey in her hand. My eyes widen in surprise having seen Sarah only drink on special occasions, and even then, so little that she would remain in her sober state.

I watch curiously as she tries to reach me. I smirk as she falls over her own feet. She stands up again, with no help from me. Swaying, her hand reaches up and comes in contact with my jaw and almost instantly sharp, dull pain rockets through my cheek.

I take four strides back before coming in contact with the wall, needing to get as far away as I can from this drunken cow.

I grab a pre-packed rucksack and walk straight out the door.

3 hours later

I sigh, my breath misting the freezing cold air. I really wish I bought a coat. I rub my hands together to stay warm but it really isn't working. I start to twirl my wand between my fingers just incase a random pervert tries to make a move on me, seeing as I am seated outside a bar, the hazy lights and drunken kareoke blaring into the sidewalk. The sky is as dark as hell and I would say it's 1:00am ish.

After Sarah slapping me, I stormed out and walked down to the bench a few miles down from her house. I've been here for a few hours, hoping for any type of magical transportation to aid me. I have no owl, but even if I did, who would I contact? Not the Potters. Not any friends. They are all from different houses, seeing as I don't really like hanging around with my Slytherin pals, but I couldn't see myself calling upon them during my time of need. I wait a while, wand stuck out, seeking refuge from the Knight Bus which never came. I guess 'Uncle' Harry just make that shit up about his third year adventure. But I haven't really given up on the Knight Bus idea, clinging onto any fragment of hope.

Smelling the tempting smoking and liqour fumes, I decide to walk down to the local park and hang around there for a while.

Seated on the park bench, resting my wand on my knee, I begin to search for any sign of food at the request of my unsettled stomach, to no avail. I sigh, aggrivated, before shoving all of my belongings back into my rucksack and tossing it onto my shoulder. I strech my frozen legs before walking, dodging some drunken teens that are slobbering over the paths. I reach the bus stop, and check my pockets for loose Muggle money. Yet again, I come up empty. I sigh, heaving my bag off my shoulders and sitting at the grafitted bus shelter. Placing my belongings next to me, I lean down and use them as a pillow and an extra layer between me and the artic bench.

Just as my eyelids start to feel heavy, a bang wakes me from my stupor. I sheild my eyes form the blaring light, then sit up and changing to a sitting position. A large purple bus rolls into view, the huge tires halting to a startling stop when they arrive, disturbing the pebbles which bounce joylessley on the floor.

"Well, look at what we got 'ere! Hey, sweeth'art, choo need a lift? I'm Jerry Cobbler, your conductor on the Knight Bus!" his uniform was a vivid purple colour, matching the bus, and his hair was tousled and unkept. I looked up at him.

"You do know what the Knight Bus is, lovvey?" he askes, grinning and revealling a gold glint of a tooth. I nod, unsure.

"Where are ya headed?"

"Diagon Alley," I say, my voice sounding stronger than I feel right now. I just want to jump into bed with a thick woolen blanket rapped around me. Not gonna happen.

"Well, jab your wand out and away we go!" he says chirply, although he must have repeated the same line one thousand times. I follow his instructions, fumbling with my wand before handing it to him. He snaches it out of my hand and yanks me onto the bus. I give him a handful of coins before he directs me to an empty seat.

Right next to Scorpius Malfoy.

Looking around, I try to find another empty seat. Jerry seems to notice my unease before pointing out that there was no other seat. I scowl, sitting down as far away form Malfoy as I can.

I drag my fingers through my hair before realising how knotty they are. I grab my hair brush just before Malfoy starts to speak.

"I don't bite, you know," he says, watching me closley.

I don't even bother to answer him.

A wide smirk breaks out over his features, and I'm not sure its because he's laughing at me. I tiredly rub my hands over my face, surpressing a yawn. He watches me closley.

"You're cold," he points out.

I look at him, tauntingly, "No shit, Sherlock."

"Who the hell is Sherlock?" he raises an eyebrow questioningly.

I shake my head, too tired to answer. He shifts slightly.

"What are you even doing here?" I ask him, drowsily.

"Diagon Alley," he replies steadily. "You?"

I look at him, and then think, what am I here for? Why did I say 'Diagon Alley' to Jerry? I shurg. "Dunno."

"You're tired."

I don't even bother to answer him this time. He understands that I'm pissed at him so he grabs a book out of him bag and starts to read it.

I begin to get curious. Why is little Scorpius without his Daddy? Isn't Scorpius too precious to be alone? "Where's your Dad?"

This time, he shrugs. "Wanted me to come on my own for the experience." He rolls his eyes. "That means he wanted to get rid of me."

"Oh," then, I force myself to stay awake, not trusting myself to get off at the right stop. Seriously, when I sleep, its like I've been knocked out by the Hogwarts Express.

"You can sleep." He says.

"And like you won't leave me here!"

"If you don't trust me, Jerry would wake you and get you off," he says camly, turning a brown crinkled page.

"He looks like a perv. So no, I don't trust him."

"Just shut up and go to sleep," Scorpius snaps, eyes leaving the book. When they meet mine, I realise that I can trust him. His pale grey eyes glint from the evanescent glow of the overhead lamp, flecks of green giving the illusion that they are made of smashed glass paintings.

I sleep.