AN: I started this so, so long ago. It was actually supposed to be my first Harry Potter story, and I've only just finished it. It's probably not my best work, but I thought I'd share it anyway.

It has nothing to do with any of my other stories, although I suppose it could be taken as taking place sometime in the future of the same timeline. (It has nothing to do with the Rose/Scorpius in Broken Wings, definitely.)

Rose slides open the compartment door hesitantly, poking her head through the gap, smiling shyly at the blond eleven-year-old boy within.

'Would you mind if I sat here? Everywhere else is full, and I'd like some peace and quiet for once. My cousins...'

He smiles dryly.

'Well, you're welcome to, but you may find that I'm a little too rowdy for your tastes.'

She laughs half-heartedly.

Of course he isn't.

She's been watching through the glass for almost five minutes, and all he's done is stare out the window in silence.

Somehow, she thinks he noticed her.

So she slips in and sits down on the seat opposite him, and pulls out her copy of Hogwarts: A History, and begins to read.

Or at least, tries to. Her thoughts drift, as they often do, to what one may consider deep and depressing thoughts.

Eleven years old, and off to Hogwarts for the first time. She's the daughter of two war heroes, of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. She's part of the massive Weasley-Potter clan, and she knows what that means.

She is to be a Gryffindor. She is to be clever, top of her class. She is to achieve great things. She is to be a Professor's favourite, to be popular and well-liked by her peers. She is to play Quidditch, and play well, like her father, and Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny, and Uncle Charlie, and, well, most of her family. And, maybe, she is to get up to a little mischief, adventure, get into trouble occasionally, like the rest of her family.

She has quite the reputation to uphold. She has many expectations to fulfil.

Including beating the boy sitting opposite her, who is still staring out the window, in every test.

And, she thinks, from everything she has heard, being his rival, and in general, not liking him very much.

Which is a shame, because he seems alright to me.

A bit of a loner, and a bit quiet, but alright.

I don't see why I should not be his friend. I don't agree with what Daddy says.

And that might well be the crux of the matter.

Rose was a little out of place with her family, at times. She did love them dearly, but all the same, she could be a bit of a black sheep.

Perhaps it was not so much that she was too different, for she had been told that she was much like her mother, but she wasn't typical.

She, for one, didn't have the vibrant Weasley hair. Instead, she had something more resembling her mother's bushy brown.

She didn't join in the apple-Quidditch matches, preferring to watch.

She never found Uncle George's jokes funny.

And maybe, just maybe, she didn't want to be in Gryffindor.

It wasn't rebellion, it wasn't out of any resentment or dislike for the House, it's just that she didn't think it would be best for her, or that she'd fit in there.

She'd much prefer Ravenclaw.

She didn't think the House was inherently better, not at all.

But she'd be happier there; she'd meet more people like her there.

Already, at age eleven, most could see that she had indeed inherited her mother's brains.

But she didn't think she'd inherited her parents', her family's, courage.

She just wouldn't belong.

It was a little like why she was sitting in this compartment, with the boy who should be her enemy.

She didn't particularly like him, she didn't particularly dislike him.

In all honesty, she didn't know him, and as her mother had told her, she shouldn't judge if she didn't know.

It just so happened that she wanted to read and think in peace, and this compartment had happened to be quiet.

That it was occupied by Scorpius Malfoy didn't matter.

Yet Rose was rather sure that the Sorting Hat would place her in Gryffindor, for that was where Weasleys should go. She knew already that eyes would be on her, a child of the Golden Trio, and she would hate to disappoint.

She was also rather sure that she would grow to hate this boy.

Because I'm a Weasley and he's a Malfoy, and that's what's supposed to happen, right?

I think he's alright now, because I don't understand, right?

She refocused her thoughts on Hogwarts: A History.

At least books made sense.

And so the two First Years sat silently in their compartment for the entire journey.

One sat behind a book, one stared out the window.

Both carried the heavy burdens of expectation.

There were roles that they had to play.

Everyone around them was already sure who they would be.

It was a pity that they weren't quite as sure.

By Sorting's end, perhaps those around were a little less resolute in their predictions.

Scorpius Malfoy was indeed a Slytherin.

Though it had taken the Hat a full three minutes and twenty-four seconds, as counted by Rose Weasley.

Rose herself was a Ravenclaw, the first Weasley in living memory to not be in the House of the lion.

She was really rather pleasantly surprised.

It didn't really seem meant to be.

As the years passed, one could say that Rose was quite the oxymoron.

She would both meet and defy expectations in truly bizarre fashion.

Of course, she was top of her class, year in, year out.

That was what was expected from Hermione Granger's daughter.

But she also never played Quidditch, though she cheered on Ravenclaw from the stands and Gryffindor too, when her cousins, and later brother, played.

She was a Prefect; she also rarely lost House points or earned detentions, unlike many of her family before her.

She spent so much time in the Library, yet just as much time was for pleasure reading as was for studying.

She was indeed an insufferable know-it –all, and it drove the other students insane sometimes, but she employed the skill in a useful fashion, and was also viewed as one of the best givers of advice in the school.

She was well-liked, but not exactly one of the 'popular' students.

By Fifth Year, she was also Potions partner, rounds partner and study partner of one Scorpius Malfoy.

Her meant-to-be enemy.

Who wasn't really one at all.

Scorpius was another student who was really quite the surprise.

Many doubted his placement in Slytherin, for he never really displayed much ambition or cunning or many other traits associated with his House.

He played Quidditch, Seeker like his father, and was the fairest player on his team. As Captain from Fifth Year onwards, he also demanded fair play from his team.

He was a Prefect, yet he chose to make his rounds with Rose Weasley, instead of a fellow Slytherin, or a pureblood, or really, anyone expected of him.

He was surprisingly bright and hardworking, and many teachers found him quite likeable as a pupil.

He was also a natural loner.

He wasn't quiet, not always.

He kept himself relatively separate, disconnected, from the student population.

He wasn't exactly friendless, but he kept himself distant.

He was just one of those people that could escape notice, really. (If he wasn't a Malfoy.)

He wasn't really who he was meant to be.

In Seventh Year, it is to no one's surprise, and what everyone expected, when Scorpius and Rose are made Head Boy and Girl.

It is also, by now, particularly among the romantics of the school, expected that they will start dating and snogging in corridors, and fighting with their parents for this supposed true love.

Which is not an expectation likely to be met.

They aren't friends, not really.

They do study together, and work together, and patrol together, but they aren't friends.

Friends share secrets, friends laugh together, friends know each other's families, friends know each other.

They don't know each other.

Not really, anyway.

Slytherin is the right House for Scorpius.

He is extremely, extremely ambitious.

Not many people see it, but Rose does know.

He is driven. There is a goal in mind, and he will stop at nothing to get that goal.

He wants to prove that he isn't his father, he isn't his grandfather.

He wants to prove that being a Malfoy isn't what will define him.

He wants to be his own person, and that's what drives him.

And he is his own person, really.

He is different.

Yes, he does smirk too much.

Yes, he does have an over-inflated ego at times.

Yes, some might interpret his self-imposed exile as haughtiness.

Yes, some might interpret his sarcastic, dry, wit as snark.

But it isn't.

He is distant because his life is an act.

After much pondering over the summer before Seventh Year, that's the conclusion Rose has come to.

It must be.

Sometimes, his mask slips, and she can see who he really is.

Like in Fifth Year, after OWLs, when he is sitting by the Lake, reading, and she just happens to pass by after a swim with her cousins.

The book is To Kill a Mockingbird.

She knows because as she walks by, she can't help overhear him talking to himself.

'If only there were more people like Atticus...then maybe I'd have a better lot in life...'

She agrees wholeheartedly with that sentiment.

She also promises herself that she will try and be Atticus, for him, for all those out there with poor, unfair, lots in life.

Or in Fourth Year, when his grandfather passed away.

She'd walked past the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and the ballet-dancing trolls, and she practically saw him appear out of nowhere.

His eyes were red, as if he'd been crying.

Or at the very start of Sixth Year, when she'd accidentally bumped into him in the Library, sending books and parchment flying everywhere.

She'd caught a glance of a letter he was writing.

Dear Mother and Father,

You will be pleased to note that I beat Rose Weasley in the Potions OWL, an achievement that I truly wish I could proclaim from the top of the Astronomy Tower...

You see, Scorpius was truly a member of Slytherin.

For no one else save them could put aside so much for the sake of their ambition.

His life was indeed an act.

He could not show vulnerability, true emotion, distress. He could not get close to anyone, for that would make it all the more difficult to continue it.

Friends had the uncanny habit of realizing when their friend's life was a lie.

He could not complain about the injustice of his life, for then others would drown him out with tales of how his family had made theirs a living hell.

He could not show care for his family, even though they were his family, because of what they had done.

It didn't matter that they'd tried to repent, it didn't even matter that he should be allowed to love them and care for them, no matter who they were, without tarnishing himself.

He had to live his life under torturous self-discipline, for any tiny slip-up, any tiny misinterpretation, could bring all of his hard work crashing down.

Really, he couldn't grow close to anyone, not like that, for friends make jokes, and laugh, and tell secrets, and all of those things could well bring him down.

He used his wit as a shield, keeping people at a distance, keeping himself safe.

He'd had to sacrifice everything that being alive meant to even have a life, a chance.

And even then, people still whispered behind his back.

After all, he did make mistakes. He did slip up. Very occasionally, but it did happen.

But that was expected.

He was human.

What else did they expect him to be?

Ravenclaw is the perfect House for Rose.

She's an intellectual.

She loves to learn, loves to know.

She intends to never stop doing so.

She really wants that research job at St Mungo's.

She has a very strong appreciation for wit.

She's not terribly so herself, but she admires and enjoys that quality in others.

Rose is plagued with self-doubt.

Sometimes, she hates her surname, who her parents are, who her uncles and aunt are.

Sometimes, she cannot bear that huge and ever-growing crowd of cousins she has.

Sometimes, she hates that huge circle of family friends, the children of all the D.A, her honorary relatives.

Honestly, she hates being Rose Weasley sometimes.

There are times when she just wants to be Rose.

Not many people know this, but Scorpius Malfoy does.

She hides it pretty well, actually, but he's not a Slytherin for nothing. He's clever, and cunning, and a master of manipulation, and he knows.

He'd often noticed her sandwiched between three or four of her cousins, mobbed by all of those Golden Children, surrounded by the offspring of the D.A.

She'd looked distinctly uncomfortable. She'd never wanted to be there. Never asked for it. Avoided it all costs.

She'd just been born into it. She had no choice.

And he felt sympathy for her, solidarity with this girl, trapped by her name and family.

Two matters in which no one has any choice.

He'd watched her at their Flying lessons in First Year. She hated, hated being on brooms. Hated flying.

Everyone found that all very strange, for honestly, the Weasleys could have been born on broomsticks. They were supposed to be champion Quidditch players and flyers, right?

Didn't anyone remember who Rose's mother was? Didn't anyone know that Hermione Granger hated flying with a burning passion?

People were so stupid.

And she could never, ever complain about it either.

She could never, ever complain about being a Weasley, about being the child of two war heroes. She simply couldn't, after all, she was a Golden child. She was supposed to have everything, her life practically perfect in every way. She was one of the darlings of the wizarding world, everything was given to her on a silver platter.

She'd just be an ungrateful, whiny little bitch if she was anything but delighted with her life.

So she was stuck, unable to rant and rave, just like how everyone else was allowed to from time to time.

Which was terribly unfair.

She was human.

What else did they expect her to be?

Rose and Scorpius weren't really who everyone expected them to be.

However, they did end up doing what everyone expected them to do.

(Though, as Scorpius always reminds her, they only got caught snogging in the corridors once.)