Scorpius is nervous. He doesn't like to admit it, but he's fairly certain that he's not doing a very good job of hiding his feelings anyway. It's one of the Things He Has To Work On If He Wants To Be Successful In Slytherin, at least according to his father. His mother doesn't say anything whenever Draco goes on one of these rants, but she seems to understand that an overexpressive face is just as good of a mask as a blank one.

Scorpius wonders if his friends will understand. He wonders if he'll make any friends. He wonders if he's destined to spend every train ride to Hogwarts sitting by himself in a compartment meant for six and pretending to read a brand-new copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1.

Three people have already opened the door to the carriage, taken a good look at him, and closed it again, so when a boy and a girl around his age come in, slamming the door behind them, Scorpius doesn't look up from his book. They'll leave soon enough.

The red-headed girl, having put her luggage away faster than the boy, plops down directly in front of Scorpius, forcing him to catch her eye.

"I'm Rose Granger-Weasley," she says, "and you're Scorpius Malfoy. My dad said not to talk to you, so I assume that we have to be friends."

"Pardon?" Scorpius asks. Granger-Weasley... that means her parents are Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, who basically saved the entire wizarding world. And that means that the messy-haired boy, who is still struggling to heave his suitcase onto the storage space above the seats, must be Albus Potter, the younger son of the Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived himself.

"We're going to be friends," Rose repeats, shaking Scorpius our of his thoughts. "Although you should know that Mum said that if you call me, or anyone else actually, the m-word, I have her full permission to slug you, but she also said not to tell Dad she that said that because she's sure that you won't be at all like your father and miracles have happened but just in case they don't she trusts my judgement." Rose takes a breath. "Also, pleased to meet you."

Scorpius stares at her, struggling to decide which part of that speech he should respond to. "I... I'm not going to call you the m-word," he finally says.

The boy— Albus Potter— has at last finished with his luggage and sat down next to his cousin, and he now laughs. "She has that effect on people."

"What effect?" Rose turns the full force of her gaze— and mouth— on Albus, and Scorpius tries to collect his thoughts as the two bicker.

They seem nice, Scorpius decides, and it's not as though he has many options at the moment. Best stick with these two, and if he meets someone better, then— well, he's sure they'd ditch him at the drop of a hat, so no need to get attached. He knows how the last war ended, knows that Malfoys don't have much goodwill with the general population at the moment, Hogwarts included. Being seen with the children of the Golden Trio can only help.

Yes, that's a perfectly rational reason. The words "lonely" or "scared" doesn't show up in it even once, which is a huge bonus. He'll be testing out his newfound excuse— that is, reason— for the first time tonight in a letter to his father. Meanwhile...

Scorpius schools his face, with just the slightest effort, into a nervous-but-eager smile and turns to face his new friends. "So," he says, interrupting Rose's tirade, "what do you know of the Sorting Ceremony?"