Control ▸ Ron Weasley [2]

XVI. RESOLUTION

CHAPTER SIXTEEN:
RESOLUTION

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      Astoria Greengrass remembered the first time she ever saw Blaise Zabini.

      It was on her very first train ride to Hogwarts. She was sitting in a compartment with her older sister, Daphne, who was going on an on about how much Astoria would love Hogwarts. According to Daphne, it was a given that Astoria would end up in Slytherin, "the best house in the entire world" (Daphne's words). A couple of Daphne's friends, Pansy and Millicent, were nodding their heads in agreement. Astoria's mind was whirling, trying to connect everything in her brain. What would happen if she didn't get Slytherin? Would Daphne be disappointed? Would her parents?

      It felt suffocating, especially for an eleven year old. So, Astoria Greengrass excused herself from the compartment, under the guise of the excuse that she was going to find the Trolley Lady and get some candies for the ride.

      She walked around the train for what felt like hours, peeking into compartments and seeing the sea of black robes with green, red, yellow, or blue badges attached to them. She hadn't heard much about the other houses besides Gryffindor, which according to Pansy she was "absolutely, positively, not allowed to be in." Gryffindors were obnoxious and brave to the point of stupidity. 

      Still, she wondered. What would happen if she did end up in Gryffindor? Or Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff for that matter?

      She didn't realize she was crying until a tear fell from her cheek and hit her hand. She hastily reached up and wiped away the lingering tears, hoping no one had seen them.

      "You alright?" someone asked. It was a head poking out from one of the compartment's open doors. There were three people in the compartment. There was a boy and a girl, sitting next to each other on one of the benches. They had the same facial features, though the boy looked soft and happy where the girl was hardened and angular. They had smooth pale skin and brown hair, though the boy's was a shade or two darker. Then, there was the boy who had poked his head out to ask her the question. His skin was brown, the color of the tea their house elf made for Astoria's mother in the morning before she added all her milks and sugars. His eyes were dark, so dark she could barely see the pupil, but they looked kind. He was giving her a hesitant smile, an expression caught between crying-girls-being-the-bane-of-his-existence and wanting to help.

      "What?" she asked stupidly, blinking at him. Another tear fell.

      "You're crying," he said, matter of factly. "Are you alright?"

      "Oh. Yes, I suppose. Just nervous."

      His dark eyes showed recognition. "Ah. A first year, are you? Well, not to worry. I'm Blaise Zabini."