Strange Connection (A Ron Weasley Love Story)

Chapter 1 - Brooke Riverstean

"Get up, Brooke Lee Riverstean! We have a busy day ahead of us!"
I grumbled, trying to push my mom away from me. I held up my flat hand with fingers outstretched, symbolizing the number five.

"No, you can't sleep longer!" She shouts happily. Her cheerfulness was getting on my nerves. I sat up in my bed and mumbled,

"I'm up, happy?!"

"Yes!" She chimed, then she twirled out the door, humming. What was up with her? I decided that it wasn't important, and went to the bathroom to get ready. I entered the bathroom and slid into the warm, soothing bath my mom promised me she would have ready before she woke me up. I let out a deep sigh. I layed there for a minute or two before I washed my hair, which went a little past my shoulders, and no matter how much I straighten it, there will always be gentle waves throughout. After that I washed my body, then shaved. After about ten minutes of 'waking up' in the bath tub, I decided I should get ready to go get my school supply for Beauxbaton.

I loved the school, but at times it became a bit much. There were guys constantly chatting it up with me just because I was 1/8 Veela.
None of these guys cared what I said or about my IQ whatsoever. It was all about my looks to them. That goes the same with my girl'friends'. They only hung out with me for the swarm of aforementioned guys. They didn't care about me at all... They were onmy around because there were few Veela as nice as me that would let them vulture on the guys they didn't want.

It was common myth about Beauxbaton that practically everyone had Veela blood in them, and while that once stemmed from truth, in the modern day this just wasn't true. A lot of different walks of life are accepted into Beauxbaton now with our new policies being less.... looks oriented.

Now, there are few Veela left at the school, as they feel more comfortable branching out to other schoolsand to other occupations.
My mother is from Beauxbaton, and was in tht top percentile in her class, which meant for me, attending wasn't really an option, but a requirement. I already had a reputation, it would be foolish to pass up an advantage like that. And, like I said, I loves the place. It was home.

I got out of the bath and wrapped a towel around myself. Since I am an only child who lives with her mom, I am not afraid to go around my house in a towel. I open my door to see my mom standing there, a tray floating behind her, controlled by her right hand. I backed up and let my mom come into my room. She looked around the room for a place to put the tray down, when her eyes feel upon an small, empty round table in the corner of my messy room.

"Accio table," She said, pointing her wand with her left hand at the table. Her voice was soothing like honey. I got mine from her, and it was one of the few things I liked about myself. The table glided across the room and stopped in front of me, just as a chair came from behind me, hitting the back of my knees and forcing me to sit down. She placed the tray on the table and said,
"Eat up!"
She then ran out the door. Something was wrong. The tray was filled with crépes (topped with linginberries), round sausages, cinnamon buns (glazed with caramel sauce), and a bag of Twizzlers... my favorites. The last time she did this for me, it was to tell me that my best friend, Raya, had moved away. She hadn't talked to anyone before hand, so no one knew where she was. I sent Alex, my beautiful barn owl with alternating dark brown and blood red feathers, out looking for her countless times, but he only ever came back worn out, with the same note I had sent to her wrapped around his ankle, unopened.

I can't eat, thinking about what my mom was going to tell me.
'Brooke, you aren't really a witch, that's why you suck at magic,' or 'Brooke, I am a death eater,' or 'Brooke, Raya was reported dead a long time ago,'

All of these ideas sent shivers down my spine. I walked over to my full body mirror and looked at myself. My dark brown hair was matted so much, because I didn't brush it after the bath, it appeared above my shoulders in length, when it really was quite longer. My aquamarine eyes glistened with tears that I didn't know were there from my earlier thoughts of dread. The shape of my small nose rose up very slightly at the tip (my friend always said I had an 'animé' nose). My lips were average size, if not smaller than normal. I had an oval shaped face altogether, which, when my hair was brushed, was complemented by my bangs that cascaded down the sides of my face. I was short for a Veela, about 5 foot, well, 5'1" if I stood on my toes. I stepped away from the mirror and got dressed in my tight, pale blue, short-sleeved polo shirt with "Beauxbaton" printed on front. For pants, I wore skin-tight black jeans. I wore pale blue socks, with black dress shoes on over them. I brushed out my hair and attempted to straighten it, doing no good, and finally just put it up in a ponytail. Then I decided to go downstairs. With a huge gulp, not wanting to confront my mother, I took my first step down the spiral staircase.