Astoria Malfoy, née Greengrass, had one single row with her husband in the entire course of their marriage. She and Draco agreed on all points but one: Astoria refused to allow Scorpius to attend Hogwarts.
It wasn’t the riffraff - the mudbloods, the half-bloods, the blood traitors - who made the school so undesirable; unlike her sister Daphne (whose first letter home had made her mother gasp and forbid Astoria from reading it), Astoria had no strong feelings as to the inferior. They were, of course, the sort of filth that ought to be wiped from this earth - but she was sure that another Dark Lord would come along and sort that out. It wasn’t her job. The people her son might meet weren’t the problem with Hogwarts.
Nor, too, was it the slipping educational standards that her father had so despised; the eradication of the Dark Arts from the curriculum, a part-goblin teaching Charms, the hiring of a ghost to teach the history of the wizarding world! Oh, Astoria agreed that Hogwarts’ professors and classes were lacking in a multitude of ways; how could she not? But a substandard education wasn’t the problem with Hogwarts.
Nor was the problem that Hermione Granger was Headmistress, with her Muggle-loving ideals and her team of freed house-elves; neither, too, was the problem that Muggle subjects had been added to the curriculum. These issues were minor inconveniences, at best; Astoria disliked them, turned her nose up at them, listened to Draco rant about them, but they were not the problem with her son attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
The problem that caused Astoria to insist on Durmstrang, or Salem, or Beauxbatons, was the fear, the near-certainty, that Scorpius would be Sorted into Slytherin.
When she thought back on her years at Hogwarts, Astoria remembered, first and foremost, the prejudice she’d faced. Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws had hexed her in the halls, spat in her face, stolen her homework and ripped it up, spread rumours and lied to professors: all because she was a hated Slytherin. It didn’t matter that she was 11, and homesick, and just wanted to do well in school, and had tried to strike up a friendship with a Muggleborn on the train; once her tie had turned green and silver, she was, in their eyes, irredeemable. The worst of the worst.
And now, in the wake of the Second Wizarding War, in a time when she and her husband couldn’t walk through Diagon Alley, in a time when the wizarding children Sorted into Slytherin were pulled from Hogwarts the very next day, she could barely imagine the heights of that prejudice.
No, Astoria had said, staring at Scorpius’ Hogwarts letter. No child of hers would ever attend Hogwarts.
(Scorpius Malfoy attended the Salem Academy of the Magical Arts and excelled. He graduated Head Boy, with twelve O.W.L.s and eleven N.E.W.T.s, unmarred by an association with Slytherin House, with the whole world and its infinite potential open to him.
That night, Draco conceded, privately, that perhaps Astoria had been right; and thus ended the Malfoys’ single and only argument.)
(Image Source. Submitted by purewhiteferret. I love the possibilities presented in this piece and the way it unabashedly looks at the post-war Slytherin question.)