Chapter Text
Albus Potter-Weasley had nowhere to sit. He had checked two carriages, and each and every compartment had been full of laughing students. Each and every one had stopped talking to stare as he walked past, and then leaned in to whisper as he shuffled away. Not a single one moved to make room. Nor did they invite him in to fill a seat currently held by owl cages or cats. If he was any other child, perhaps he would shrug it off as a coincidence. He was a first year on his first train journey to Hogwarts. The only people he had seen who were familiar on the train were his older brother James (who had run off as soon as they were out of sight of Platform Nine and Three Quarters, and therefore their parents) and his cousin Rose (who annoyed him, because she was arrogant about everything, and did not enjoy Wizard Chess). To any other student, this could simply be nerves, a general anxiousness that all first-years faced when thinking of their immediate future at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
But Albus was not just any boy. Albus was a Potter-Weasley.
Potter-Weasleys were recognised wherever they went. People knew the names of Albus’ parents, his aunts and uncles, his grandparents. They stopped to stare as they walked past, or they shook their hands. Potter-Weasleys were daring, brave, heroic, popular. Albus was used to feeling second best, or third. He knew his brother and sister were more like the idea others had of the infamous Potter-Weasley children. Lily was nine, and she already had pen pals that would one day be in her year at Hogwarts, two years in advance. James was a beloved member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and he was only going back for his second year. Their father had been beaming about it all summer long. But Albus was different. He hated flying (a fear of heights), he disliked loud, rancorous chatter (like his brother), and he preferred spending an hour quietly reading (rather than tearing about the place on a new prank, like his sister). He had spent the summer worrying about being a Slytherin, because he knew he wasn’t Gryffindor.
Albus was used to feeling like he wasn’t good enough. He had hoped for things to be different for him at Hogwarts. Even his father’s understanding didn’t get rid of the doubts completely (because as much as he was often as mischievous as his wife and siblings, he had Albus’ quiet thoughtfulness too. Still no good at Wizarding chess).
“We’ll try the next carriage,” Rose said primly, marching down the corridor away from the compartment they’d last checked. Rose had decided just after they’d left King’s Cross Station that they would be sticking together until they made their own friends, and had taken it upon herself (as usual) to find them a ‘suitable’ compartment; presumably one containing those from ‘good’ families or muggle-born.
Albus glanced inside – full of potential first-years, all awkwardly introducing themselves - and followed Rose with a sigh. Albus would have settled for a space in the luggage rack if it could save him from having to wander aimlessly along the train, or from Rose.
The next compartment they found had enough space for them. In fact, it only had two occupants. One Albus did not recognise; a dark-haired girl who was watching out of the window with a neutral expression. She was already dressed in her Hogwarts robes, which looked brand new, over a pair of jeans so tattered, the darned holes at the knees were coming undone. She looked worn, like she would blow away or snap in a strong gust of wind. The other occupant he did know. Scorpius Malfoy cut a startling comparison to the girl; he was still wearing the clothes Albus had seen him in on the platform, elegant in his black jeans and buttoned shirt. His platinum blonde hair had been combed and styled to perfection, not a hair out of place.
Albus had heard many things about the Malfoys over the years, though he had never seen them before today. Whereas Albus was revered as a Potter and a Weasley, the Malfoys had been all but cast out from the wizarding community after the fall of Voldemort. Narcissa Malfoy’s lie to the Dark Lord had been the reason that the mother and son had not been sentenced to Azkaban, as many of the Death Eaters had been, many personally by Harry Potter himself. However, that had not made them welcome in the wizarding community, nor had Draco Malfoy’s career as an infamous Healer, specialising in those cursed by the dark arts. The scorn and rumour surrounding the family had only grown worse when the son of Draco Malfoy had been born on the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts – the very day of the Malfoy family’s saving act of mercy. Scorpius Malfoy had been the subject of many foul and ridiculous rumours, one even going as far as to say he was the Cursed Child, the one destined to bring back Lord Voldemort.
Albus had been expecting a prim and proper boy, arrogant about his own family history. The exuberant, open grin on Scorpius’ face told a different story. On the seat next to him was a box of opened chocolates, and it appeared as if he had been using them to coax conversation from his fellow passenger.
“Hello!” Scorpius chirped. “How are you? Pleasure to meet you.”
Immediately, Rose’s nose crinkled with distaste and she sniffed (a sign she was about to say something she thought was very smart). Albus interrupted quickly. “Hi,” he said. “Mind if we sit in here? Everywhere else is full.”
Scorpius’ grin widened impossibly, and he looked ready to explode with excitement. “Of course!” he cheered. Scorpius waved a hand to gesture to the chocolate box, as if without this movement they were invisible. “I have chocolate to share.”
“Come on, Albus,” Rose snapped, glaring at Scorpius’ smile. She turned smartly on her heel and began striding down the corridor, heaving her trunk behind her. “We’ll sit somewhere else.”
Albus stayed at the door. He was watching Scorpius’ shoulders cow, and the way his smile wobbled. The girl at the window hadn’t turned towards them, but she did glance at Scorpius out of the corner of her eye. There seemed to be an expectant nature to the two occupants of the compartment, like they knew that he would not sit with them. No one that Albus knew - Weasley, Granger, Potter, or Lupin - would have sat with them.
Albus was not the typical Potter-Weasley child.
“Albus!” Rose called imperatively. “What are you waiting for? Come on.”
The girl at the window finally looked over to Albus. Her eyes were an electric blue so piercing, Albus felt as if he was being dissected. She took in the t-shirt, slightly crumpled from the car journey to the train station, the jeans, the slightly scuffed shoes. She blinked twice, long and slow, before she turned a little more welcomingly towards him. It felt challenging, like the look a cheetah might give a zebra before giving chase. “They’re all caramel or strawberry,” she spoke in a strong Welsh accent. Compared to drawling Southern of Scorpius and himself, it came as a surprise. She’d raised an eyebrow at him hovering the doorway. “I ate the raspberry ones.”
Albus stared for a moment before the comment clicked. “Raspberry chocolates?” Albus repeated. He felt as if he were trying to answer an exam question, but he couldn’t recall what it was he was meant to say, or if he had been asked to say anything at all.
Scorpius’ smile was wider than ever. “Would you like one?” He shook the box in what was supposed to be an inviting way. The chocolates rattled heavily. “There are a couple of raspberry ones left."
“Are there?” the Welsh girl said with a mix of curiosity and accusation, and Scorpius shot her a sheepish smile.
“Albus!”
Rose was standing at the end of the carriage. She was still scowling, a foot bouncing irritably on the carpeted floor. She looked ready for a rant, and Albus really, really didn’t want to be stuck with just Rose on his first journey to Hogwarts.
“I’m gonna stay here,” Albus replied, trying and failing to keep his tone polite. “There’s plenty of room.”
He was about to add that she could join them, but Rose’s reply was a sneer as she flounced off down the train. Albus shut the compartment door behind him. The three of them were quiet for a second as they each regarded each other. Scorpius’ smile was broad and giddy, but the girl simply stared, as if waiting for a sign that Albus was worth the effort of speaking again.
“Do you want a hand with your trunk?” Scorpius broke the silence. There were two trunks already in the overhead racks; a tattered, undersized one, and an ornately designed leather trunk with designs of flames and peacocks. “There is room up there,” Scorpius continued, pointing to the rack on the left side of the carriage. “We managed to move…um, what is your name?”
He’d turned to the girl, who was still sat by the window. She stared at the two boys for a moment, those big blue eyes steady and serious.
“Awena,” she answered slowly.
Scorpius beamed at Awena, as if she had given him an immeasurable gift. “My name is Scorpius,” he gestured towards Albus in a fluid, erratic sweep. “And…?”
“Oh, I’m Albus,” Albus said.
Awena stood. With her chin up, there was an odd grace to the way she moved to put her hands on her hips thoughtfully. When neither spoke (Scorpius was still smiling broadly), she continued with an oddly serious look on her face, “it took the both of us to lift the others. With three of us it will not be hard.”
Awena was right; with her stood on the seat, guiding and supporting the bottom, and Scorpius and Albus lifting one end each, they managed to slide Albus’ trunk onto the rack. Beside his, Awena’s truck looked even more threadbare. If she noticed however, Awena did not care; she simply stepped back into her seat in the corner and sank down to sit on the bench.
“Ah, thank Merlin,” Scorpius flopped back into his seat with a surprising lack of elegance. From the raised eyebrow Awena gave him, she noticed too. Scorpius looked at Albus expectedly. He sat uncertainly on the seat next to the chocolates. “I hate heavy lifting,” Scorpius continued, slouching in a distinctly defiant way and stretching his arms leisurely over his head. “I am not very useful at practical things, you see. Mother says it is because I am more imaginative than I am logical, but Father never knows what to do with me. He has been trying to teach me some basic Potions instruction, but he gave up after I nearly blew up the greenhouse the second time. I hope I will be more useful at things that are more theoretical, such as Astronomy. Not much wand-waving there, I hope. I would hate to start another fire. Chocolate, Albus?”
Albus, who had been listening intently as to not miss anything that might be vital, jumped when he realised he was being addressed. Scorpius had turned to him, raising the box of chocolates between them. “Oh, thanks,” Albus reached over for the proffered box. There were six types left in the box, though there were four indentations where previous chocolates had been. Albus selected a round, dark shape and popped it into his mouth whole. He coughed a second later when the taste of orange marmalade flooded his taste buds. It sent a buzzing through his body, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. He must have pulled a peculiar expression, because Awena’s mouth twitched as if she was fighting a smile.
Scorpius smirked. “Indonesian chocolates,” he reached in himself for a triangular shape, and studied it in the air between them. “I think they are the very best chocolates in the whole world. Well, except for the raspberry ones.” He sighed dramatically, and wiggled further down into his seat, dropping the chocolate into his mouth. “Bliss!”
“What’s wrong with the raspberry ones?” Albus asked.
Scorpius pulled a face. “They’re just so…so…juicy.”
“They were adequate,” Awena deadpanned. “I would have preferred the kiwi ones.” With this, she gave Scorpius a pointed look, who blushed but pouted playfully.
“I was nervous,” he said, his voice bouncing into a higher octave. “I stress eat.”
Albus huffed something close to a laugh.
“I like the raspberry ones,” Awena corrected with an uncomfortable roll of her shoulders, as if she were shrugging off a weight.
“Do you want a chocolate?” Scorpius asked, but before he had even completed his sentence, Awena had darted over, nabbed a chocolate, and shoved it hungrily into her mouth. She fell back into her seat, staring at both of them uncertainly. Scorpius laughed, but Albus felt a weird twisting in his gut at her discomfort.
“Do you want anymore?” Albus asked softly. He tried to copy the sweeping gesture Scorpius had used but ran a hand through his hair because he felt like an idiot. “I don’t actually like flavoured chocolate.”
Scorpius gasped dramatically and laid a hand over his chest. “You hate chocolate?”
“I never said that,” Albus protested. “I just don’t like it when they put other stuff in it. Chocolate’s better when it’s just…chocolate, you know?”
Awena raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s weird.”
“Exactly!” Scorpius gaped passionately at Awena and then Albus. “It is weird.”
“More for me though,” Awena continued, and darted forward for another chocolate. She popped it into her mouth with a melodramatic sigh and slouched into her seat in a surprisingly good imitation of Scorpius. “Bliss!”
Scorpius’ cry of “hey!” wasn’t as effective as he intended; the three of them had started laughing. Scorpius was an easy laugher; he opened his eyes wide and his mouth wider. Awena, however, was not; she covered her mouth with a hand as she giggled quietly, but her grin made her pale face seem to shine. Albus found that he didn’t have to force the grin he gave them. He just sat back and let Scorpius’ laughter roll over them.