One morning in May, when the students at Hogwarts are busy shoveling breakfast into their mouths with one hand and flipping through textbooks with the other, Rose Weasley decides she wants to make a new friend, because why the hell not? It’s the end of the school year and all of her fellow Ravenclaws are too panicked about final exams to have any fun.
So, as if it’s completely normal, Rose grabs her porridge and approaches the Hufflepuff table matter-of-factly, next to a boy with pale hair and even paler skin and a glimmer of misery in his eyes that only comes from being alone too often.
“Is someone sitting here?” Rose asks him politely.
Scorpius swallows a piece of toast, eyes wide, and shakes his head.
“I’m Rose, by the way. And you are?”
“Scorpius.” Rose takes a moment to digest this. Scorpius. The Scorpius Malfoy, the one her father had always warned her about, always told her to beat on every test, because he was nothing but cruel, and came from a cruel family. This was Scorpius. A small, scared looking Hufflepuff boy with big brown eyes and a nervous quiver in his knees.
She smiles at him.
And then she immediately starts chattering to him while she eats, about everything imaginable, from the new broomstick she’s had her eye on to how beautiful the grounds look when it’s springtime to how many wrackspurts she thinks she can hold in her mouth. And Scorpius is just staring at her, because no one’s ever done this, no one’s ever willingly sat near him and wanted to speak to him. He stares at her bushy red hair, and thinks it’s beautiful, and he stares at her long thin fingers drumming on the tabletop, and wonders with a surging feeling in his chest if this is what it’s like to have friends. Even when she leaves, he can’t stop smiling on his way to Potions.