I was ecstatic when I received my letter to Hogwarts. I squealed with excitement when I saw it sitting on top of the pile of mail, addressed to Miss Rose Weasley, First Bedroom on the Right. It was the first letter that had ever been addressed to me. I immediately snatched it up and tore open the seal.

Hogwarts School
of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall

Dear Miss Weasley,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,
Cho Chang,
Deputy Headmistress

I read over that at least one hundred times before moving on to the next piece of parchment, the materials list, which I breezed through rather quickly and handed off to mum. Then I read over the letter again. I read it over and over until mum told me it was time for bed.

All my life I had listened to my parents' stories about their magical adventures, how they had helped save an escaped convict using a hippogriff, and defeated the dark lord innumerable times, in many different ways. Now it was my turn. Finally, my turn to roam the castle grounds, my turn to go on wild adventures with my friends. Although, I doubt my adventures will be quite as exciting, seeing as how uncle Harry destroyed Voldemort years ago.

When the day came to get fitted for my robes I could hardly stand still long enough for the seamstress to pin them. I had my new wand in one hand and my materials list in the other. Every few minutes I would lift the materials list up so I could see it and mentally check off what I already had. This usually resulted in at least one stabbing prick from the seamstress, which she swore was accidental.

Many pricks later she was almost finished when another child entered the shop. He looked to be about my age with white-blond hair and a pointed chin. A second seamstress led him over to stand by me and he gave a curt nod in passing.
"Hello," I said as I extended my hand, earning a stern gaze from the seamstress, "I'm Rose. Rose Weasley. And you are?"
"Scorpius Malfoy." said the boy taking my hand in his firm grip. He gave a ravishing smile and I looked shyly away, returning my hand to my side.

When I arrived at King Cross a few days later with my parents I could barely contain my joy. I smoothed down my robes as Albus and I chatted excitedly about the coming year. When the mist cleared Dad pointed our attention in the direction of one white-blond haired, pointy chinned boy, Scorpius. I didn't pay attention to my father's comments about him but rather smiled at him and gave a small, barely noticeable wave. He waved back, glad to see a familiar face.