Purple Hair Ties ♔ Draco Malfoy ♔

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" everything was beautiful, and nothing hurt "

Chatter filled the air as a young student pushed her way down the small corridor, hoping to get away from all the bodies and voices. Her heart pounded in her chest, praying for an empty compartment, but finding none. She wasn't ready to communicate with new people. She needed some space, she needed her personal space, she needed to get her thoughts together. Then, and only then, would she be able to communicate with her fellow students. But, so far, it looked like no such thing would be possible. Her heart raced faster, her eyes darted around corridor, and she began to notice that the crowd was thinning out. Everyone was finding a seat...Everyone except her. She kept on walking, though, wishing with every fiber in her being that she could find an empty compartment. She needed one good thing in her life. She needed one good thing after a life of hardships. And, just like magic, one appeared. A smile stretched across her face, and she slid the door open. This is was perfect, absolute perfection. She shut the door once more, and stretched across the plush, worn out bench. And her mind stopped spinning, and she felt like everything was going to be okay once more.

Once her heart slowed back to a normal pace, she sat up, propping her head on her hand, and stared out the window. The train was chugging out of the station, leaving the bright city for the quaint, rural areas of the United Kingdom. It was nothing like she had ever seen back home, back in America. At home, she was surrounded by the most beautiful architecture, designed and built by only the best her community had to offer. Back home, she was pressured to be the very best and, despite none of her family being with her, she still felt that pressure on her shoulders. It felt heavier than ever before.

She hadn't realized how much time had passed until she saw the sun starting to set. She sighed, knowing that soon she would be at Hogwarts, a magnificent school hidden in the rolling hills of Scotland. A creaking sound turned her attention back to the door, where a boy around her age was stepping inside. He offered her a small smile and held out a hand. "Hello, I'm Blaise Zabini. Do you mind if I sit with you? I can't seem to find anyone else who'll let me."

She nodded and motioned to the bench across from her. She took a moment to look him over, deciding if he could be a good friend to have. He was tall and thin, but not lanky, and had a dark complexion. He had an attractive face, with such stunning cheekbones that it made her wonder if the gods themselves had sculpted them. "I'm Romy Honey. Pleased to meet you," she replied, shaking his hand.

"Romy?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow. Even such a mundane gesture looked dazzling on his features. "Is that short for something?"

She nodded, excitement lighting up her eyes. Despite the mounting pressure her family put on her, she couldn't help but be proud of her roots. She had an honorable history, stretching back to the Pharaohs of old. "It's short for Romilly. I was named after my father, Romulus."

He smiled, chuckling at her childlike enthusiasm. He had to be honest, it looked rather attractive on her. "Did your parents like the Romans?"

"Loved would be a better word to describe it. Our history stretched all the way back to when the original Romulus and his brother Remus were saved by Lupa from the roaring waters of the Tiber River. The Roman culture is firmly integrated into our lives...And it's the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me." As Romy spoke, she used large gestures and sat at the edge of her seat, leaning towards Blaise. She knew that he would never be able to understand her love for Rome, but she had to get her point across. She was Rome, and Rome was her. They coexisted in such an unfathomable fashion that most people would be turned away. But not Blaise. He was smiling, nodding as he listened to her babblings, like he was genuinely interested. It was then that she decided he would be her friend. People like him shouldn't be let go, people like him should be cherished as the day is long. "And what about you? What's your family like?"

He shrugged, leaning forward like she was, and rested his elbows on his knees. "It's nothing to write home about, to be perfectly honest. My mum, she's something called a Black Widow...and it's not because of her skin colour. She's wedded many men...and she's killed them all. All to get their money, which I'm not complaining about."

Romy nodded. "Not to be rude, but why does she do this? What...sparked her interest in such things?"

He looked towards the window, to the door, and back to her. He moved a little more forward, and a dangerous smirk stretched across his lips, a strange spark in his eyes. He licked his lips and replied, "She was born into a poor family, despite being of pureblood descent. She hated it, despised it. She was pushed around all her life and, when she graduated, she swore she would never be weak again. She began courting many men, marrying the richest of the lot. But she didn't want to be tied down...And so, she kept them around long enough to ensure she'd get the money, and then she'd killed them. Because she was wealthy and was a pureblood, she never went to jail. And, during one of her marriages, she had me...Wasn't exactly planned of course, but it made the officials decide that they couldn't send a mother to jail, not when her precious, vulnerable child needed her."

She could understand where Ms. Zabini was coming from. Romy hated being weak, and she couldn't imagine what the lady was put through during her childhood. Of course she would want power, to show everyone that she wasn't going to be pushed around anymore. But Romy had a question, a question about something that had never been explained to her before. "Blaise, what's a pureblood?"

Blaise chuckled, leaning back. Romy mimicked his actions, but never took her eyes off of him. "It's when your whole bloodline has come from wizards and witches. The opposite of this is being a Muggle-born, when your entire family is Muggle, or non-magical. Then, there are the half-bloods, who come from a magical person and a Muggle. It's best to be a pureblood than a half-blood, and better to be a half-blood than a Muggle-born. I happen to be a pureblood, and you are?"

"Well, I suppose I'm a Muggle-born...Is that a bad thing? Will people not like me because of it?"

He shrugged. "Dunno, depends on the person to be honest. Some of the purebloods won't like you, but there aren't too many of them left around. And most of them don't really care that much for all that blood purity nonsense. It's pretty much a given that the half-bloods and other Muggle-borns will like you. Don't worry too much about it." He paused. "But I should give you a warning...Some of the purebloods will call you Mudblood, which means dirty blood. It's, like, the ultimate insult in our world. For the Muggle-borns, anyways. Just don't pay too much attention to it. Matter of fact, you should embrace it. That'll really piss them off. Yeah, that'll do the trick."

Romy smiled and felt some of the pressure lift from her shoulders. Maybe Hogwarts wouldn't be that bad after all.