Disclaimer: I own nothing but the OCs. Everything that you recognise belongs to J K Rowling.

Scorp barged in about two minutes after we pulled away from the station, panting heavily as he hauled his oversize trunk into the compartment and kicked the door shut. "I actually had to run for the train," he moaned, struggling to stow his trunk. "I hate running, and now I'm all sweaty."

I snorted and turned away from the window, watching him as he hoisted his trunk onto the baggage rails and elbowed it into place. Scorp is genetically blessed: he eats absolute rubbish and hates exercise and he's still boyish and lanky. I know that if I ever stopped running a mile a day, I'd end up looking like Grandpa Vernon.

Don't get me wrong; I love my Grandpa Vernon. But, I dislike the idea of being the size of a baby whale. Getting off the ground for Quidditch would become that much harder, and it just isn't healthy. All the magic in the world couldn't save me from that much pressure on my internal organs – which is basically what Grandpa's cardiologist bellowed at him the last time he went for a medical appointment for his cholesterol.

The door to the compartment slid open just as Scorp tumbled into the seat across from me. My wand was in my palm the moment the interlopers began talking.

"Clear out, Thunderthighs!" McLaggen shoved his way into our compartment, tailed by his posse. Even without craning my head, I spotted Carruthers, Crawford, and Benedict hulking about behind him like lingering flatulence.

I sat back and raised my eyebrows at him. "Fuck off, McFuckface. Scorp and I were here first."

McLaggen sneered and plonked his trunk onto the seat beside Scorp; Scorp curled his lip in distaste and discreetly got his own wand out and at the ready. "There are four of us, there are two of you, and the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few."

I scoffed. "In that case, I'd be doing the entire world a favour by hexing you all into next Sunday. Bugger off."

McLaggen had just opened his mouth to deliver what he probably thought was a cutting put-down when he was interrupted by a commotion behind him.

There was a split second of confused scuffling, during which Scorpius knocked McLaggen's trunk to the floor with a flick of his wand and I discreetly turned all of its contents chartreuse. McLaggen's expression contorted into one of fury –

- and then, he was sprawled out at my feet, groaning.

Lindsey Ouyang, who stood a full head and a half shorter than McLaggen (and Scorp, and I), shoved her trunk into the luggage space beside Scorp's and kicked at McLaggen's prone form. "I didn't even hex you that hard, you fucker. Get up and get out. I want to sit the fuck down and fix the chip in my nail that happened when I was dealing with your droogs on the floor outside."

McLaggen staggered to his feet, glowering at the tiny girl in front of him – an effect that was somewhat lost in the sea of multi-coloured warts that were starting to form on his face. Lindsey glowered right back and looked twice as threatening.

And, amazingly, without another word, McLaggen grabbed his trunk, shoved past Lindsey, and slammed the compartment door shut behind him.

Lindsey visibly relaxed as she plopped down beside me, sinking down into the red cushions. "I knew that the most expedient way of finding Slytherins was to find a herd of loutish Gryffindicks," she explained complacently in reply to Scorp's quizzical look. "And yes, I'm going to be here for the entire ride to Scotland. Corinth is at the prefect's meeting, and everyone else on this train is an imbecile. Hello, Scopius. Blair. How were your holidays?"

A brief shadow played across Scorp's face. I felt a pang of sympathy; he'd spent a great deal of time with his grandparents Malfoy this summer, and from what I'd gathered, he'd hated every minute of it. "Not much," he said, turning on his Wizscreen and loading a muggle movie with a tap of his wand. Muggles came up with all sorts of tech shit all the time, and the wizarding world (specifically, Malfoy Industries, which outwardly disdained all things muggle until it could make a profit for them when combined with magic) had found a way to move past the Middle Ages.

Well, in most things. We kept owl post. They're pretty cute, and they'd be devastated if we automated them out of their jobs.

I settled back into my seat and began rummaging in my bag for my Quidditch Digest. "Pretty good. Got a lot of flying done. You?"

"The usual. Bummed around, let my mother nag me about needing to pull myself together for the NEWTs, visited my relatives on her side in Malaysia, and went on a wizarding cruise with them. Lots of extended family bonding and shit." She flipped her hair over her shoulder and began examining her chipped nail. "I can't wait to get back to some peace and quiet. Thank Merlin's first fuck that you and Corinth don't feel a need to squawk about how skinny I am every thirty seconds, and thank Circe's left boob that there are only three of us in a dorm."

Lindsey was one of the two other Slytherin girls in my year. In fact, Slytherin house was now the smallest house in terms of student population in the school – Al hypothesises that it's because most of Slytherin house wasn't feeling particularly celebratory after the end of the war, which meant that there wasn't much joyful sex going on.

"What dirt do you have on McLaggen that got him backing down so damned quickly?" Scorp asked, digging a pair of headphones out of his backpack.

Lindsey smirked and pulled her own Wizscreen out of her tiny black purse. "I wouldn't have any dirt if I told everybody, would I? Anyways, trust me. It's pretty good."

I let it go. It'd come out eventually; Hogwarts was as porous as a sieve.

"So, Scorp, I discovered Weasley anxiously applying lip-gloss in the bathroom. Who's she dolling up for if it isn't you?" Lindsey waggled her eyebrows suggestively, earning a scowl from him.

His reply was brusque. "I don't want to talk about it." And he put on his brand new Malfoy Industries headphones and blocked us out.

Lindsey chuckled and turned her attention to her Wizscreen, pulling up a copy of Witch Weekly. "I don't know why he's still keen on her," she murmured conversationally, browsing through the magazine. "Weasley has terrible taste, which obviously means that she'll never go for him."

It was my turn to raise my eyebrows. Lindsey made an impatient noise in the back of her throat. "If you ignore the fact that his grandfather is a complete lunatic and the fact that every third Muggle horror movie is based off his ancestral home, he's actually quite a catch – I mean, apart from all the emotional pining. And he's such a sensitive guy that he's got to be incredibly cuddly in the sack – if you're into that sort of transcendent, lovemaking shit."

The thought of Scorp in a sexual way made me feel a little queasy.

Lindsey saw my expression and huffed, turning back to her Wizscreen. "Ugh. Let me know when you hit puberty."

I rolled my eyes and snapped my Quidditch Digest open, staring at a two-page spread of the Banchory Bangers ("Bang, Bangable, Banged – The Bangers on Bringing Bludgers to Blowouts") and ruminating on my best friend's unfortunate obsession with Rose Weasley.

I reckon that it started somewhere in third year – even before the Katerina Hendricks Disaster – during the summer that Al, Scorp and I stayed over at the Burrow for a couple of weeks while Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny went to Paris on a Ministry-Ambassadorial-Work trip (Uncle Harry) cum shopping spree (Aunt Ginny). I'd gotten permission from my parents to stay over, and by some miracle, Scorp's parents were finally less suspicious of our friendship and were chill enough to allow Scorp (a Malfoy) to set foot in a Weasley household. James was staying with Fred Weasley's family (the two are inseparable) and Lily was with Rose's family – so all the Weasleys would congregate at the Burrow every day and we'd just hang out and do ridiculous and potentially dangerous things, like play Quodpot with Grandma Weasley's Dutch ovens and a double handful of untested Wheezes fireworks.

To this day, James swears that the explosion that knocked him off his broom and resulted in five broken bones and nine fractures was less painful than the spanking he got from Grandma Weasley after he recovered.

Anyway, Scorp finally got to see Rose in actual social situations – laughing with her cousins, having fun, and above all, not being a frigid bitch. The night that she slipped up and actually passed him a slice of cake with a smile was the beginning of Scorpius Malfoy's downward spiral into Rose Weasley's cool, uncaring clutches.

And then there came a string of meaningless snogs and hook-ups as a pretty much desperate Scorp tried to get over the fact that she loathed him – and when news of how he wouldn't keep a girlfriend for more than a week started getting round, she disliked him even more for being a "heartless rake".

Heartless. Rake. Who the fuck still talks like that, other than Rose Weasley?

But, there you have it. The ultimate modern Romeo and Juliet, except that Rose wasn't so much as interested in pining over Scorp than she was in pinning him to the floor of the Forbidden Forest as a friendly gesture of goodwill to the resident acromantula.

I didn't understand her; if she only took the time to know Scorp – and believe you me, she had plenty of time to do that within the last six years in which we'd all pretty much hung around in overlapping social circles – she'd know that he's funny, disarmingly disarming, and genuinely nice. I'd heard Al mumbling about stupid war prejudices, but that was literally over twenty five years ago, and it's not like Scorp had actually tried to Avada her or deliberately make her life miserable.

Quite the opposite.

A flare of righteous indignation flashed in my chest as I eyed Scorp, who was completely engrossed in a muggle movie (I'd bet my broom that he was watching Spirited Away) and being the brother I've had since we teamed up to land McLaggen and Angus McFusty in the Hospital Wing two weeks into our first year for giving Al a concussion. (They'd been taunting Scorp about being a Death Eater and Al had leapt in front of him as McLaggen tried to smack him in the face with his broomstick. Apparently I'd gone into complete psychosis, and it was Scorp who later explained that I was under a full body-bind because I'd tried to ram my own broomstick down McLaggen's throat.)

Bottom-line: Scorp Malfoy deserved better than Bitchy Rosalind Weasley.

With a muttered oath, Corinth Fawley sank onto the bench at the Slytherin table as the rest of the school ambled into the Great Hall.

We're all fully aware that Corinth is a boy's name, but her pureblooded family was so convinced that she'd be a boy that when they discovered that she was, in fact, female, they decided to just carry on as if she'd been one anyways. This irritated Corinth to no end, which was why she responded by being the biggest flirt Hogwarts had seen in a decade. This dubious honour was to be distinguished from the biggest slag title – which went to Katerina Hendricks, hands and pants down.

Anyways, she and Al hadn't managed to make it back to the compartment during the seven-hour commute to Hogsmeade; her feelings about this were made clear by the ferocious glare that she levelled at a benign Rose and a stiff Albus who were bringing up the rear of a line of first-years (… and, I realised with a quick jolt, the Scamander brothers, who were casually ambling along, ignoring all the stares) queuing up before the Sorting Hat.

"The only thing longer than her long-windedness is the fucking Weasley nose," she hissed, flipping her cloud of glorious golden mane over her shoulder. Lindsey, caught in the wave, spluttered as some of it ended up in her mouth. "We basically got our entire academic year micromanaged, and she was still drawing up plans for commencement when we pulled into Hogsmeade. For fuck's sake; it's next year, and the seventh-years aren't even on duty. Why couldn't they have chosen Davies for the job, instead?"

"Because Davies gives head better than being it," Scorp offered brightly.

That's a joke because it's public knowledge that Davies, for all her academic brilliance, is quite socially awkward and has as much sex drive as a Yorkshire pudding.

Corinth gagged and was about to retort when Longbottom called the school to attention. The Sorting had commenced, with the two Scamander boys going first. Everybody was silent as they watched Lorcan plunk himself down on the rickety stool and silently confer with the Hat. We all waited with baited breath –

"SLYTHERIN!"

Our table exploded as the rest of the female population threw us sour looks. Lorcan Scamander shared a quick look with his brother before sauntering to the Slytherin table amidst jeers from the rest of the Hall. Beside me, Scorp looked marginally cheered at the fact that Lorcan was sorted into Slytherin, because then Rose would definitely not go out with him. He greeted Lorcan with a tentative smile as Lindsey glanced up at him and shuffled a little to let him in beside her.

"Lindsey."

"Scamander One."

"RAVENCLAW!"

My surprise at Lindsey and Lorcan knowing each other was somewhat drowned out by the roar from Ravenclaw as Lysander Scamander coolly lifted the Sorting Hat off his own head and moved towards their table.

"No surprise there," Lindsey muttered, narrowing her eyes at the way the Ravenclaw girls with pulses shoved each other out of the way. "They're fighting a losing battle; Scamander Two is just as asexual as Blair."

I kicked her, hard.

Scorp snorted as he craned his head around to get a look at Rose Weasley. She was engaged in a whispered conversation with Al, who looked like he'd really rather be anywhere else in the world – and I felt Scorp tense and look away as Rose shot Lysander a look.

… Too much sexual tension here.

Meanwhile, Corinth had leaned over to scrutinise both Lindsey and Lorcan. "You guys know each other?"

Lindsey shrugged. "A little. I met the Scamanders over the summer when I was visiting my relatives."

Lorcan smiled boyishly, and I wanted to kiss him on the nose. "We're friends with one of her cousins – we went to school together in Malaysia, at the Pulau."

Oh.

"Adam didn't mention that you were coming over, though." Lindsey glared at her empty plate and turned to transfer that same glare to the entire Sorting process. "Come to think of it, neither did you."

"Mum and Dad finished up their research, and decided to come back for our last year. We haven't been back here since we left when we were kids, so. It's like an adventure."

"Weren't you sad about leaving your old school behind?" Corinth ran her hand through her hair again and fixed Lorcan with a look that clearly conveyed that she was inquiring as to the presence of any competition.

Clearly amused, Lorcan grinned. "A little. I was more excited about coming here."

Uncomfortable with Corinth's predatory pheromones, Scorp interjected. "What was your old school like?"

"Y'know, same old, same old. It's the only wizarding school in the region, so we get a lot of people from different countries in Southeast Asia. It was pretty neat, actually, but after a while, a little change is great." Lorcan flashed him a grin. "What do you guys do for fun, around here?"

"Quidditch!"

I might have said that a little too loudly – case in point, Al and Rose swivelled around towards the source of the shout from two tables away – but everyone took it in stride. I tended to get very enthusiastic about Quidditch.

Al, who was just about shoving the line of unsorted First Years forward, threw me the dirtiest look I'd ever seen.

"Eh… I'm not much of a Quidditch player. Lysander's the one with a Beater's arm, but he prefers his books to his broom."

"Interesting. Beating. A Beater's arm." Corinth was starting to sound vaguely aroused.

Catching on, Lindsey leapt into the conversation. "Blair's Quidditch Captain! She plays Beater, too. I play Seeker, and Al – Al Potter with the bitchy face over there – he's one of our Chasers."

Lorcan's tickled expression seemed to be a permanent fixture. "I'd thought that the son of Harry Potter would play Seeker."

Lindsey smirked and made a show of examining her nails. "He's not the only guy around here with a Seeker for a parent."

Before Lorcan could inquire further, Professor Longbottom announced that the Sorting was over, packing the Hat and stool up and yielding the floor to Professor Sinistra, our Headmistress, who began announcing things like The Forbidden Forest is Forbidden and Fanged Frisbees are Forbidden and A List of Forbidden Items is Nailed to Mr Filch's Door. They are Forbidden.

Al moved so fast that I swore that he Apparated into the seat beside Scorp. "I love her," he breathed heavily, rumpling his already rumpled hair in agitation, "but only one of us will survive the year, and it's going to be me."

Lorcan smiled genially. "Don't angst, mate." He jerked a thumb towards the Ravenclaw table, where his brother seemed to be studiously ignoring his presence. "Your family's the one thing you can't get rid of, so you might as well get used to getting around them. You get pretty good at it, after a while."

Lysander seemed to hear this, because he looked up and narrowed his eyes at his twin.

Interesting.

I wasn't the only one who wanted to ask about that, but then the feast appeared, and all else was forgotten.

Except, for the rest of the night, Lysander Scamander did not look at his brother again.

A/N: HOGWARTS, HOGWARTS, HOGGY WARTY HOGWARTS!

Ouyang is a dual-character Chinese name. It's one of the most common out of the few dual-character names that still exist today, but it's still pretty rare.

Pulau - it just means island in Bahasa Melayu.