To Heal A Broken Heart (HP Story)
She traced a gentle finger over his defined jawline, peppering his cheeks with soft kisses. He lifted his hand to hold her's against his face, pressing his lips against her palm. She rested her brunette head against his chest with a sigh of contentment.
"Can I ask you a question?" He asked.
"Mmm," she agreed sleepily.
"Why do you want me?"
"Why are you asking that?"
"Because I wouldn't want me," he admitted, dropping his head down and pressing two fingers to his temple.
First Days Are Always the Worst...Until They're Not
My name? Ebony Bailow. My age? 15. My school, as of now? Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. My personality? Well, I'll let you figure that one out.
I was born in Athlone, Ireland, quite a small town smack dab on top of the River Shannon. It was a quiet neighborhood, but I loved it because it was home. From the moment I was brought home from the hospital as a newborn to the teenager stage that I'm currently in now, I ate, slept, cried, laughed, and lived in Athlone. I'd never been out of the country, not even to London. You can understand my shock, then, when my mother informed me that I'd be attending a school in Scotland. A magic school to be exact. I was a witch, with magical powers and an ability to thrive in the school. Yup, quite a lot to take in.
So here I am, sat on a mildly uncomfortable train bench that jiggle disconcertingly at every damn turn the vehicle makes. I'm sitting alone in a compartment. If you thought that making friends on the first day of a new school was hard, try doing it five years into the same school. Trust me, it complicates things more than a little bit.
The scenery whisks by before my very eyes, the tall buildings and rainy skies of the city transforming into rolling hills and quite a few roaming farm animals. I wonder briefly who they belong too. I estimate that it's been a good few hours before I am met with another human being for the first time since stepping aboard the train. It's a him, and he slides open the door of my compartment rather tentatively.
"Hello," he says shyly. "Mind if I sit here? My mate's a prefect and I haven't got anyone else to hang with."
I invite him to sit down with a nod of my head. The word 'prefect' has no meaning to me, but I decide to let it slide, if only for a moment.
The boy has dark blonde hair and pale skin. His eyes appear a clear blue at first, but there is evidence of a few flecks of green upon closer examination. His lips are thin, but they possess a pinkish tinge and when he smiles, as he does just now, you simply have to return the favor.
"My name's Blake," he introduces himself. I extend my hand to meet his. It is warm, and almost comforting in its texture.
"Ebony," I return softly.
"Like the color?" his eyes take on a curious look. I nod in confirmation.
"That's very interesting," he cross his legs and folds his arm, nodding at me as if thinking deeply. As if possessed, I burst out laughing, and in a moment, he joins me. As soon as we compose ourselves, he takes on a serious expression.
"Ebony... I haven't seen you around. You new?"
"Yes," I say. "I transferred here just this year."
"Cool!" He beams. "I love newbies. I get to show them around. Sure, most of them are first years and therefore they're cute. But you're cute too." He offers an impish grin, and I look downward at my clasped hands, clearing my throat. I don't have much experience with boys. I don't really know about flirting too much. But I can tell what Blake is trying to do, and I'm not sure if I'm comfortable with it.
"But anyway," he clears his throat, "You're Irish. So I like you already! I can tell we'll be the best of friends!"
I thank him inwardly for erasing the awkward situation he created. For the rest of the journey, he entertains me with stories of his past years at Hogwarts. We also talk football, a subject he tells me that is disregarded within the school, the students being partial to Quidditch instead. I haven't got the blubbering clue what Quidditch his, but I play along as though I do. Lucky for me, however, he's still got all his jerseys and footballs from when he was young, and can't seem to fall out of love with the sport. He tells me I'll be his football buddy. I laugh.
That's what Blake makes me do so easily. Laugh. He makes me feel at ease, comfortable with him and with my surroundings. He's so cheery, as well. He seems to generate energy within his body. I've never seen anything like it. In the five hours that we spend in each others company, I can already tell that our relationship together, if it continues, will be brotherly sisterly. I think he understands that too.
When the train slows to a stop, I can hear rain smattering against the windows. When I move to lift my luggage down from the rack above my head, Blake shakes his head.
"They transport it to your rooms magically," he informs me.
The blonde haired boy chuckles at my amazement.
"You've got a lot to learn," he says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and leading me off the train.
Please comment or rate! Blake is not her love interest in the story. I'm not sure
yet if I'm going to incorporate some of the original characters into the story, but
please continue reading to find out! I'm hoping all the best for this fanfic :)