A.N: I appreciate that this has taken months to update, and I wouldn't be surprised if everybody has gotten bored of waiting. I'd lost all inspiration for this story up until a few days ago. I hope that this chapter was worth waiting for! Please tell me what you think! Thank you!

What greeted me the other side of the platform wall was a similar scene to that in Diagon Alley. Witches and wizards bustling around, gripping onto their children with a sense of urgency and pride, as they pushed around their trolleys ladened with suitcases and animals and other intriguing items that Cassie recognised from many of the wizarding shops she had seen. Many parents were crying, many hugging their children as though this was their last goodbye. None of the families seemed familiar, yet many regarded the sight of three icy blondes with loathing and disgust.

However, few children recognised Scorpius, and gave him a small smile or nod, to which Scorpius would gladly reciprocate.

"See Cassie, not everyone hates us," Scorpius joked, as a particularly pretty brunette with wide doe eyes gave him a shy wave.

I nudged my nephew, smirking. "How many more secrets are you going to keep from me, huh?" I exclaimed. "That girl definitely likes you."

Scorpius shrugged it off, nonchalantly. "She's nice, I suppose. Slytherin." The inclusion of the girl's house was clearly an important factor for him, though I failed to see what it had to do with possible romantic partners. Both of us growing up Malfoy's, it was instilled in us from early ages that blood, status, and house was everything - though I thought we had both ignored Lucius Malfoy's 'words of warning'.

"But no Rose Weasley," I whisper into his ear, causing a slight tinge of pink to flush across his cheeks.

"What are you two muttering about?" Draco asks from behind us.

Scorpius and I glance at each other, his eyes wide, as he reminded me silently of the promise I made to keep his secret. "I was just asking him if I could sit with him on the train, and he's worried that I'm going to cramp his style."

Draco chuckles, shaking his head. "Let your sister sit with you, or else I'll insist on boarding too."

Looking around me, I can see people keeping their distance, and muttering things to one another about us. I was never going to get used to the whispers, but I understood the desire. Here stood three Malfoy's, one that people weren't even aware existed; tongues were bound to be sent wagging. Just because I understood, however, didn't mean I liked the attention at all. On the contrary, I wanted it to cease, and to fade into the beige bricks behind me. Scorpius took it all in his stride, brushing off all the nasty sneers and stares.

Suddenly, I could hear smalls meows coming from my trolley, and shining, silvery-grey eyes peered over my trunk. Smiling, I reached out a hand for Padfoot to sniff, and he nuzzled me gently. I picked the cat up, and he perched his head on my shoulder, atop of my denim jacket, purring softly.

"I think he's taken to me," I say happily, as Scorpius reaches over to stroke Padfoot's back. His fur is charcoal black, and as soft as silk.

As we fawn over the cat, I hear footsteps approaching us. Looking to the side of us, I spot three children of different ages pushing trolleys, followed in tow by none other than Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter. He's every bit as impressive as you'd imagine the saviour of the wizarding world to be, with dark, unruly locks and a firm build. He was holding his wife's hand, and I could sense the apprehension he had in coming over to us. Clearly, twenty-two years weren't enough time for Draco and Harry to iron out their differences and forgive one another. Ginny, however, smiles warmly at me.

The three children with them I could only assume were theirs, having already met the two sons. Both looked strikingly like their father, whilst the youngest, a red-haired girl of perhaps twelve, looked very much like her mother. Albus gave Scorpius a weak grin, and I could tell that it was his first grin in weeks. James was just as dashing as he had been yesterday, if not more so. He grins at me, and I can't help but be taken aback by his positivity at meeting us, not whilst his father seemed so uncomfortable.

"Thought we'd pop over and say hi, before the the kids have to go," Ginny says, kindly.

Harry looks at me, with a furrowed brow. "Malfoy, this must be your mysterious daughter Ginny and Jamie were gushing about yesterday."

Draco smiles icily. Clearly he wasn't all that comfortable being around Harry yet, the guilt still not gone. "It is. Cassiopeia, say hello."

I grin, slightly dumbstruck. I extend my spare hand to him, which he takes, tensely.

"It's just Cassie," I say. Harry just nods, rather tight-lipped.

"Who's this?" Ginny asks, her eyes lighting up as she notices the cat resting in my arms. "I've got a bit of a soft spot for animals, you see. Lily too."

I grin, and hold out my new pet for Ginny to hold. Her red-haired daughter, Lily, tenderly watched as I passed the cat over. "His name is Padfoot," I say, and then immediately regret it. Harry turns a shade whiter, and Ginny gulps. Clasping a hand over my mouth, I gasp. "Oh Merlin, I don't mean to be insensitive. Sirius he is . . . was a relative, and a somewhat hero of mine, and in a family like ours there's not many people to look up to. What I'm trying to say is that it's people like him that make me not so ashamed to be a Malfoy and a Black."

At first I'm afraid that I've put my foot in it, and Ginny and Harry will whisk their brood away, leaving us in the dirt. Harry is speechless, and all colour seems to have drained out of him.

"He'd be flattered, I think, that he's managed to influence a whole new generation of Malfoy's," Ginny remarks instead, beaming. "And he'd find it amusing that a cat was named after him."

I smirk. Ginny scratches Padfoot behind the ears, and he starts to purr affectionately. The youngest Potter looks up at the cat with wide eyes, and reaches out an eager hand to stroke him. She giggles as Padfoot starts to rub his cheek against her palm. He's clearly taken a liking to the smiling redhead.

"I was wondering if you wanted to stay with us in the October holidays, Scorpius?" Albus inquires, turning to his best friend.

Harry's eyes widen, and he places a hand on Albus' shoulder. "Shouldn't you have asked me and your mum first, Al?"

"Oh, I said he could," Ginny said, offhandedly, throwing it off. Harry seems somewhat surprised at his wife's sly antics, whilst Albus doesn't meet his eyes, instead choosing to look at us instead. I sensed some unresolved tension between the father and son, and I could see that Scorpius had picked up on it too.

"How's about it, Scorpius?" Albus asks, shrugging off his father's hand.

My nephew grins at his friend, and then up at Draco, who also appears to be very uneasy, and almost unwilling to say yes.

"He'd love to," I finally say, when nobody says anything. I ruffle Scorpius' hair, beaming down at my pretend-brother, who beams back at me.

"Brilliant," exclaimed Ginny, who ignored her husband's attempt to interrupt her, and rather reluctantly handed me back Padfoot. "We'll send an owl, Draco, with dates. Scorpius will be well taken care of, we promise."

Thin-lipped and taut, Draco inclined his head in a countenance of understanding, just as our father does when he feels he has no voice in a matter.

The Hogwarts Express let out a piercing whistle as steam started to flood the platform, and children started to pile into the carriages, mothers and fathers waving them off. Ginny put an arm around her daughter, Lily, and shot the three of us a bright smile. "Good luck, Cassie," she says with a wink, and leads Lily to the nearest door. Albus and Scorpius push their trolleys in unison, chattering away between themselves. Jamie steps forward as if to say something to me, however Harry takes his eldest son's cart and starts to push it for him, motioning for him to follow. Jamie's face falls slightly, though he fixes it in a flash, and shoots me a wide grin.

"See you on the train, yeah?" he asks, with - I am shocked to hear - a hopeful expression across his handsome features.

"Definitely," I reply, smiling widely.

Feeling somewhat optimistic that I may have made a new friend already, a Potter at that, when I turn and see Draco's stern gaze. I tilt my head, furrowing my eyebrows.

"I thought you liked James?" I inquire, studying his expression.

"I never said I liked the boy," Draco answered. "I only remarked on the notion that you're the only person I know who could match him - meaning you two are more alike than most."

"I see." I begin to push my own trolley towards the train, Padfoot resting nicely atop of the Black family suitcase, when Draco reaches out and places a hand on my shoulder.

"You saw Potter's face, he's hardly been happy that his youngest son is friends with a Malfoy, do you think that he's going to let his oldest fall into the same trap?" he sighed, and his voice softened. "I don't want this experience ruined for you by a smug Potter, that's all. Just be wary. Please."

Draco then rummages in his pocket, and pulls out a brown paper bag. He hands it to me, rather sheepishly, and waits for me to see what is inside. "Sweets?"

"Astoria's idea. She gave some to Scorpius on his first day too. She hoped it would make it easier for him to make friends. Couldn't bear the thought of him struggling."

I look down at the bag, and then back at Draco, who had glistening tears forming in his eyes at the thought of his late wife. I wrap my arms around him, squeezing tightly. "I'm glad I get to tell people you're my dad, and Astoria my mum, because I've always wished it to be true," I mumble into his chest.

Then, I pull myself away from Draco, and push myself towards the train. Lifting the raven-coloured suitcase off the trolley, and holding Padfoot in the other, I climb aboard the Hogwarts Express, with the rest of the stragglers, and watch as we pull away from the station. Draco sticks out like a rose in a cornfield, his icy blonde hair, crisp suit and pale complexion causing him to resemble a ghost of some sorts, in comparison with the colourful robes and rosy cheeks of the other wizards and witches around him.

He gives me a small wave, and then he's gone, the steam engulfing the station.

I then started to move away from the door, and shuffle through the small gap between the carriages. People gasped when they spot me shuffling past their compartments, and soon heads start to crane out to see the mysterious Malfoy daughter for themselves. I try and smile, but it's difficult when no one is smiling back. It was quite intimidating to say the least.

Dragging my suitcase behind me, with Padfoot curled up in my arms, I breathe a sigh of relief when I spot a familiar mop of silvery blonde hair in one of the compartments. I slide the door across, much to the shock of the two inhabitants, who snap their heads up from a magazine they had spread between them.

"You don't mind if your sister slums it with you two, do you Scorpy?" I tease, already placing my suitcase up on the rack. Padfoot jumps out of my arms and over to Albus, curling up beside him happily.

Scorpius hastily chuckles, whilst trying to slyly sneak the magazine behind his back. I raise an eyebrow, and place a hand on my hip, doing my best imitation of an older sibling scolding those younger. "That better not be anything inappropriate."

"It's just The Daily Prophet . . . Albus was showing me an article about . . . about his dad," Scorpius stutters, looking to his friend for help. "You won't like it."

I frown. "The Daily Prophet? That's the newspaper that's always publishing false stories about people - us in particular. Why are you reading it?"

"Like I said, Albus said . . . he said that uh . . . there's something about Harry Potter in . . . in there."

One of the things I took pride in, regarding my nephew, was his inability to lie. That was a trait most Malfoy's had inherited, sadly including me and Draco.

I hold my hand out, and he rather reluctantly gives me the magazine. "I know it's about us, Scorpius," I sigh. "But it can't be any worse than that story Rita Skeeter managed to spin for three months about Draco - I mean father, being a werewolf."

"Oh I don't know, this one pretty much takes the cake," Scorpius grimaces. "It says some nasty stuff about you, Cass . . . "

He trails off as my eyes scan the page. I can barely believe the words I was reading.

"BELLATRIX LESTRANGE DEAD RINGER REVEALED TO BE MYSTERIOUS MALFOY"

Draco Malfoy's elusive daughter OR Bellatrix Lestrange's long-lost love child with Voldemort himself?

Just yesterday witnesses reported seeing a girl who looked remarkably like the long since deceased Death Eater, Bellatrix Lestrange, wandering the streets in Diagon Alley. "It was as though I saw her ghost," says a shaken Mrs Padma Goldstein. "Everything about this girl reminded me of the woman who had killed my sister - save for the hair. It's the eyes; they're just as cold and venomous. She even had the nerve to brandish her wand around, threatening all those who looked in her direction. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, if you ask me."

Mrs Goldstein isn't alone in her worries. Another witness, who prefers to remain nameless and rightly so, stated that he was present when the girl in question harassed the employees in Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions. "She terrorised the poor Malkin twins," says a frightened witness who would prefer to stay anonymous. "Demanding she have preferential treatment because of her status, throwing money around. If you could have heard the vile things that girl screamed at them, I fear for the unsuspecting wizard who had the misfortune of meeting her next."

Another anonymous source has recently written to us here at the Daily Prophet to confirm that the Bellatrix Lestrange dead ringer is in fact her great-niece, sixteen year old Cassiopeia Malfoy.

OR IS SHE?

Rumours of Scorpius Malfoy's - supposed son of infamous Death Eater Draco Malfoy - true parentage have been floating around ever since he was born. Witches and wizards speculate that the youngest Malfoy is in fact the son of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and Bellatrix Lestrange, both deceased. Now that we can exclusively reveal that another Malfoy has been kept in hiding for sixteen years, this suspicious action has only added fuel to the fire.

"Well that only proves the fact that the Malfoy brats aren't who they say they are," claims current Hogwarts Muggle Studies Professor, Ms Carole Penhollow. "If they've had to keep one locked away, then surely they've got something to hide? Why keep this girl a secret? I say it's because all the rumours are true."

Of course, some skeptics say that this claim is nonsense, due to the fact that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and Bellatrix Lestrange died on May 2nd, 1998, which would mean that Miss Malfoy would have to be over twenty-two years of age. However, others aren't quick to assume the worst.

"I wouldn't put anything past old Lucius," says former Minister for Magic, Mr Cornelius Fudge. "If he wanted something badly enough, he'd manipulate and curse anyone in his way to wrap his claws around it."

Well, whomever this Cassiopeia Malfoy may belong to, the magical community has made it very clear that she's not welcome here.

"Cass, are you alright?" Scorpius finally asked, as I brought a hand up to my mouth, stifling a gasp. "You've gone very pale."

I throw the paper down on the seat beside me, feeling my veins turn to lava. Is that what people truly think of us? 'Cold and venomous'? 'Vile'? 'Brats'?

"This is poison," I spit, furiously. So angered by the words I had read on the page, I was left unable to string two together to make a sentence "Those . . . those accusations are empty of all truth. In . . . Madam Malkin's shop they . . . they were rude to me!"

"I believe you," Scorpius assured me, with a slight smile, turning to Albus to wait for his encouragement also. However, he was bust tucking into a Pumpkin Pasty. Scorpius nudged his friend sharply in the ribcage, sending the pasty flying.

"What was that for you . . . !" he trailed off, as he noticed my red-faced state. "Oh, sorry Cassie. If it helps, I think the Daily Prophet has been struggling for material lately. Last week they made some rubbish claims that mum was having an affair with the lead singer of The Weird Sisters."

I chuckled at the thought, despite my fiery composure. "I can't believe they can get away with writing shit . . . sorry, rubbish like this. I mean, saying that me and you are actually the Dark Lord's children! Where did that come from?"

Scorpius didn't say anything this time, and I narrowed my eyes at him. "Scorpius? Where would they get this idea from? And what does it mean by rumours have been floating around since you were born?"

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Scorpius couldn't meet my eyes. Instead, he took to picking the thread out of the armrest. "Well, people seem to think that a time turner was used in . . . in order for me to be conceived. By the Dark Lord."

"It's a popular theory," Albus adds. "Despite all the obvious loopholes, people really seem to think it possible."

My jaw falls open. "Merlin's beard, why didn't you tell me Scorpius?"

He shrugs. "It didn't seem important. I mean, we know it's not true."

"Of course it's not bloody true!" I slump back in my seat, huffing. "Brilliant. So not only am I Malfoy, but the newspapers claim that I resemble Bellatrix Lestrange's ghost, and people are going to think I'm hers and the Dark Lord's daughter. Bloody brilliant."