A/N: Hi! This is my first fanfiction so feel free to tell me if I've done something terribly wrong or just give constructive criticism. Enjoy :)
For several years, Scorpius was one of those people that Rose felt as if she had some kind of inexplicable connection with, despite the fact that she had no realistic right to lay such a claim on the puzzling pureblood. She supposed it had first begun at platform 9 ¾, in their first year, where she had noticed Scorpius standing between his equally blond and regal parents. Draco Malfoy looked supremely uncomfortable, the scrutiny of the public eye making him pull on his sleeves in way that made the proud man look like an insecure teenager once again. Scorpius had inherited a lot from his father; his eyes were a deep gray and he, of course, had the trademark Malfoy locks. However, he lacked the aura of arrogance that seemed to be genetic in previous generations. While Scorpius stood oblivious between them, Draco and Astoria were unconsciously leaning over their son, their protective instincts on high alert. Of course, as a naïve 11 year old, Rose had caught none of these subtleties. Only looking back as a much worldlier teenager could Rose really understand the burden the Malfoys knew they were placing on their young son. That day Rose and Scorpius had begun their journey together, when she, starry-eyed with the possibilities of her future at Hogwarts, had happened to catch eyes with a similarly overwhelmed Scorpius Malfoy. And contrary to any expectations she held of him, he offered a sincere, if somewhat cautious, smile. For a moment, Rose was caught off-guard (a rare occurrence) but soon offered her own shy smile.
Rose's thoughts were turned elsewhere as her cousins whisked her away amid desperate cries of "I love you Rosie!" from her parents and impatient, and slightly sarcastic, promises of "Yes, I'll write everyday!". She grabbed the corner of Albus's shirt and hung on for dear life as her cousins elbowed their way through hysterical parents to a compartment.
Rose, an introvert by nature, did not like the sheer amount of attention that came with being a Weasley, but she was cursed by her auburn curls to be perhaps the most identifiable of the Golden Trio's children, with the exception of Albus, who was practically a clone of his father. She and Albus ducked away from barely concealed pointing fingers and almost humorously loud whispers all the way to their compartment. Rose laughed to herself as she practically saw Albus's head swell with each gossip they encountered.
On the train that day, Rose could almost see herself following in her family's footsteps and becoming the Gryffindor she could never before quite imagine. The comfort her family radiated was familiar and homey, but Rose still found the excessive warmth somewhat stifling, a feeling she had not detected in any of her boisterous cousins. She longed for an identity separate from the stereotype her huge family had established, no matter how complementary it was. Rose, while courageous enough to hold her own against her many male cousins, did not have the confidence to think she was really one of "the brave at heart". However, being sorted into any other house could only make her more noticeable, she feared. How many generations had it been since a Weasley broke the mold?
Much too soon, the first years were being shuffled into alphabetical order. The train ride, the arrival, and the amazement at the castle had seemed to happen in a matter of seconds. Scrorpius's name was the first she recognized Headmistress McGonagall proclaim. At first, he walked with his head down, aware of the noticeable increase of whispers. But halfway up the stairs, something changed in the young Malfoy's attitude. He held his head up and walked across the stage, as if daring the wary student body to tell him he had something to be ashamed of. "He'll be a Slytherin for sure!" A not particularly friendly voice hissed from the Gryffindor table.
Some sortings were immediate, Rose had realized. It seemed like these young witches and wizards oozed loyalty to their future house. The hat barely touched the hairs on their head before it made its decision. Scorpius was not one of these. The Sorting Hat sat silent, at least from the eager audience's perspective, for longer than any of the students before. "RAVENCLAW" it finally boomed. Scorpius, wearing a look of complete relief, hurried down the stairs to his dumbstruck new housemates.
A similarly shocking choice was Albus being sorted into Slytherin. He looked positively green when he stood up and Rose tried to give her favorite cousin a reassuring smile. His return expression was more grim than grateful. She knew he would be fine though, Albus could make friends with a troll.
So when her name was called, a slightly more relaxed Rose breathed deep breath and started forward. But she still fumbled up to the stage, and was careful to take notice of each and every stair, unwilling to attract unnecessary attention. But really, who was she kidding? The sorting of the firstborn of Ron and Hermione Weasley was bound to draw every eye in the Great Hall. As she felt the hundreds of eyes rake across her, Rose welcomed the protection of the Sorting Hat as the dark fabric shielded her from the eyes of curious strangers and supportive friends alike.
"That's curious…" The Sorting Hat murmured into her ear, "A Weasley who sometimes prefers her own company over that of her family's…Oh, don't misunderstand me. I only meant to say you are not like the others…Brave, but not ostentatious, determined, but practical. And then there's that spark…Better be "RAVENCLAW!"
As Rose's eyes re adjusted to the bright light of the Great Hall, she tried not to be disoriented by the loud applause and older students clapping her on the back. She plastered on a calm look but was beyond relieved to see an empty seat amongst the chaos. The blond boy to her right turned around and offered a smile that was beginning to become a familiar and welcome sight.