The next morning as Sariah hauled her trunk onto the train, she collided with her fellow Hufflepuff roommate, Britta. The petite girl stumbled backwards and brushed her mane of wavy blonde hair out of her eyes. 

"Hey Sariah," Britta said happily. She tugged at the hem of her t-shirt, and the badger sprawled out on the bright yellow fabric righted itself. "How was your break?"

"It was alright," Sariah replied. There was a moment's pause before she asked out of politeness: "How was yours?"

"It was amazing!" her roommate gushed. "My family all went to Christmas mass together. My cousins and grandparents, my big brother who's usually at college -- I forgot how bad at singing he is! And then Liesel invited me over to her house. I will never forgive my parents for not being magical, you know? Her family gets to charm dishes clean, their beds make themselves, and they even have a house elf. That's all the stuff I used to make pocket money out of."

"I guess we'd both be out of the job then," Sariah replied.

Britta had embraced the existence of magic as strongly as Sariah had been alienated by it. She continued on happily while Sariah kept nodding, pretending that she knew who the Fifth Phoenix were. She toyed with the idea of them being a boy band, or maybe a quidditch team. It was Liesel who saved her from the rambling conversation. Liesel was in Ravenclaw, but the pair had been practically (and on one occasion, literally) joined at the hip since their first transfiguration lesson. Liesel even sat at the Hufflepuff table from time to time.

"Where have you been, Britta?" Liesel asked, taking her friend by the hand. "Quick: I found us an entire unoccupied compartment this time. It's perfect: not too close to the toilets, not too close to the engine. There's a group of Gryffindors eying it up too, though, so Dracula Cullen is keeping guard."

Bats and ferrets had been part of the updated pets mandate for two years now, and Dracula Cullen was Liesel's messenger bat. Sariah couldn't fathom why Liesel had chosen such an obviously muggle-based name. Maybe she thought it was fashionable.

"Sariah, want to sit with us?" Britta asked.

She shook her head. "It's alright, you two have fun."

"Well, bye then," she replied, waving cheerfully with one hand as Liesel tugged her down the corridor by the other.

Sariah frowned. She refused to accept Britta's offer, one she strongly suspected was offered out of pity. She didn't want to be anyone's pity friend. Besides, conversations between them flowed about as well as sandpaper against skin; Britta and Liesel had no appreciation for superheroes. But why would they? Practically everyone on the train would qualify for a spot on the Justice League or a place at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. Everyone except her.

She continued along the train, dragging her trunk behind her. The last compartments on the train were usually empty, which Sariah chalked up to two things: One was that the entire UK's muggle born records had been destroyed during the last Wizarding War, and the school roll still hadn't recovered. The second was that the sweets trolley started its journey from the esteemed Prefects carriage at the front of the train, and there was very little incentive to sit at the end of that line. The last compartments were for last minute homework attempts, sleeping, or savouring the last hours of solitude before returning to the hectic Hogwarts castle. After sliding her favourite compartment open --second from the end, right-hand side- she realised this would not happen. Scorpius Malfoy was already sitting in her carriage, his feet resting on the seat opposite him. At that moment, the Hogwarts Express blew its horn. She stumbled into the compartment as the carriage lurched into motion.

One look at his curled lip confirmed her initial reaction. "Sorry," she muttered. "I'll go."

He shook his head. "No, stay. I assumed you'd be sitting here."

Why was he so eager to talk with her all of a sudden? She considered the request and glanced into the empty corridor. There were no eyewitnesses; no one to see him affiliating with her. After sliding the door closed, she struggled to hoist her trunk onto the railing above the seats. Scorpius sighed and rose to help after her third unsuccessful attempt.

"What, in the name of Merlin, do you have in this thing?" he asked, wheezing under its weight.

"Engine oil, headlights, a battery and jump starter kit, sealant, anti-freeze-" she stopped after catching sight of his expression. "Just car stuff really."

"Yet another reason to choose a broomstick over a metal death machine. Why isn't your trunk enchanted?" he asked. Pink spots of effort appeared on his cheeks.

"This is my mother's travel trunk. Magic and I don't mix; we're like oil and water."

He stared at her blankly.

"You know, like Gryffindor and Slytherin?"

"Oh."

They pushed it onto the overhead as the train pulled out of the station, entering a narrow tunnel.

"So, how was Transylvania?" she asked, sitting down.

He feigned interest in the view of the tunnel wall. "Postponed." After not enquiring about her break, he continued: "Which was a good thing. It gave me plenty of time to think about that useless car. Headlights that turn on without human instruction, doors that move independently... It's almost as if it's enchanted."

A warning curled in her stomach. "I guess it might be," she admitted.  

"You know that enchanting a muggle object is against the law, don't you? The Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office would be very interested in it, I think. Especially if someone was actively trying to restore it."

"You told them about it? But- Scorpius, you promised you wouldn't!"

"You're really that attached to it? My highly tuned morals are insisting that I turn it in. How can you ask me to ignore them?" He smirked. "Don't look so worried, I haven't told anyone. Yet."

Yet. His voice was silky and cold, and it gave her goosebumps. Scorpius Malfoy trying to blackmail her. It almost didn't seem possible. What could he possibly want with her? Or more worryingly, what wouldn't she be willing to do to protect that car? Yet. You son of a bitch. She glared at his composed face.

"What do you want, Scorpius?" she asked measuredly.

"It recently came to my attention that you get the highest marks in every single Muggle Studies assignment. As a generous Hufflepuff, I'm sure you'll agree how unfair it would be to not share your answers with me."

"You want answers to the break's revision questions? Fine." She reached for her bag. "How many have you done?"

"Not just those. I want every answer until the end of the year."

She felt her blood rushing through her ears. Let him cheat and prosper off her hard work?

"I'd hate for my morals to get the best of me," Scorpius pressed.

Sitting there with his neat blonde hair, he looked the opposite of the devil's advocate. She felt a wave of loathing rush over her; he'd seemed so reasonable before the break! Her nails bit painfully into her palms and realised her hands had balled themselves up into fists. If only Scorpius had been savaged by vampires over the holiday break. The train emerged from the tunnel and sunlight flooded the carriage. She hadn't even considered that working on the car could be illegal. There didn't seem to be any way around it: give him the answers, or lose the car.

Sariah sighed, "If you keep your word, I'll help you out." She offered him her hand, which he stared at like it was a loaded gun, and inclined his head ever so slightly.  

"Let's begin then. I have an assignment due tomorrow, you know."